Alice in the Land of Steam

The torrential rain is swirling across the wasteland.

Centered on Nibelungen, the torrential rain within a radius of several kilometers seemed to be captured by an invisible force field. Billions of raindrops deviated from their destined fall to the earth, obediently rising, circulating, and then accelerating around the ship's hull. The abundant rainfall, comparable to the rainy season on the grasslands, instantly formed a dark, abyss-like vortex, like a monstrous beast lurking in the clouds, its jaws wide open, ready to devour everything in its path. The warship at the center of the vortex lost its metallic texture, its surface a crimson tide, like a vibrant, beating heart.

Thump, thump, thump—

Calm, powerful, and eager to try.

It is calling, a powerful soul is descending upon this place.

That was precisely the opponent the Titan craved, and the most suitable one for it. This construct, born from the most advanced magical technology of mortals, also absorbed the malice of mortals, always mistaking it for its own will, thus using slaughter as its means and treating life as worthless. But if the lost soul does not know how to return, and only vents violence and squanders its hard-won emotions, it will probably end up like that dragon.
Some people only understand this truth many years after they die, in a seemingly real but ultimately unreal dream.

But you only have one battle left.

Under Ovira's intriguing gaze, amidst Pereira's profound contemplation, and in the uncontrollable, not fearful but excited tremors of the Sky, the world is being torn apart.

The sky is a vast mountain range, the clouds are a scorched earth, and when the colossal object bursts forth from the ground, the thunder immediately turns into a cathartic roar.

From the vortex where clouds and rain meet, a pale, jagged dragon claw suddenly pierced out, gripping the edge of the cloud. The claw tip seemed to have gripped tangible matter, an abyss or a skeleton. With a slight exertion, it plowed five deep claw marks into the endless glacial continent.

Then comes the dragon's head.

Leticia stared at the scene from afar, her eyes wide with astonishment. She recognized it; in fact, she had witnessed it not long ago: the dragon climbing from the deepest abyss until it saw the light of day again. But this scene seemed completely reversed. The dragon was no longer climbing upwards, but downwards—a situation that should be described as "falling," and indeed, it conformed to common human understanding: if an object were not flying, what other possibility was there besides falling?

But for this dragon, it is still a climb. Even if the world has turned upside down, it will climb from the negative pole to the positive pole. This indelible obsession and arrogant, stubborn will is what makes it worthy of fear, flight, curses, and even remembrance from all life on this land, both ten thousand years ago and ten thousand years later.

The clouds were the earth, torn apart by the dragon's claws; the ice was the rock, pierced by the dragon's horns; the rain was the swirling sand, falling through the dragon's skull and eye sockets, staining the world with a sorrowful hue. As the dragon climbed downwards, slowly struggling to free itself from the eerie vortex, the sky began to collapse. Clouds, like tangible rocks, crashed down with deafening roars, killing thousands of fleeing beasts; the ice, frozen by the low temperatures, was ancient veins of minerals buried deep in the permafrost for years, now finally resurfacing, but before it could even reach the ground, it was evaporated by the uncontrollable heat generated by friction during its flight, melting into mist, leaving little trace other than making the rainstorm even more devastating. Perhaps only the thousands of rivers that had overflowed across the wasteland could prove their existence, high above the Atorica sky, overlooking the filth and decay of the world.

When its head was fully revealed, the torrential rain seemed to pause.

From its silhouette, one can vaguely glimpse the shadow of Nidhogg, that colossal beast that devoured heaven and earth, whose legends, along with those of heroes, still circulate in the memories of living beings. Those who have heard the legends but never witnessed it firsthand can still feel the call from ten thousand years ago in the dragon's aura, and tremble and weep for it. Is it alive? Why would a living creature, lacking flesh and blood, descend into the world with only an empty skeleton? Was it ever dead? And why would an inanimate creature, driven by obsession, stubbornly cross the sky to come? Therefore, it should be said that it is a soul forged, awakened, and reshaped between the boundaries of life and death.

Everything was reborn. The empty eye sockets now burned with dark golden flames, searching for traces of the human world as they looked down; the power of the fairies purified the eternal resentment clinging to the skeleton, imprinting sacred patterns into that majestic body like an ancient covenant; on the empty wing bones, countless beams of flame, shining like a sun's corona yet dim like the darkness of night, like the trails of shooting stars, evaporated all the rain that had not yet condensed in the clouds, instantly turning into a sea of ​​mist that filled the sky; as it slowly fell and proudly flapped its wings, the storm turned into a tangible tide, sweeping across the entire sky and pushing the swirling rain clouds outwards by a whole circle.

It was enormous, blotting out the sky, yet it no longer evoked a purely malevolent sense of oppression. Instead, it possessed a mixture of sacred majesty and primal brutality, like a nature deity from ancient mythology, simultaneously wielding creation and destruction, inspiring awe and fear in all beings. This was completely different from the Nidhogg that Leticia remembered. Only Ovira knew that it was not a dragon that had truly existed in the mortal world, but an illusion extracted from Nidhogg's memories and obsessions through the power of the Holy Grail.

Perhaps, that's the kind of person it wants to be.

Coincidentally, this illusion seemed to simultaneously blend the ferocity and savagery of Nidhogg, the "dragon that devours heaven and earth," with the nobility and majesty of Herasvarg, the "dragon blessed by heaven and earth." Was this because both were deeply attached to each other, creating an echo in the mortal world? Perhaps the real reason was a peculiar phenomenon resulting from the fusion of the powers of fairies, evil gods, and demonic dragons. However, Ovira preferred to believe the latter explanation. After all, this was a battle about destiny, and destiny, isn't it just a matter of chance and coincidence?

So, did the Thai Sky sense the call of destiny?

Pereira felt the Skywarp tremble, not from fear, but from madness and euphoria. The crimson signal beam was locked onto the dragon beneath the sky; the magic reactor was overloaded, its eerie purple energy burning like flames; and the processor within the core crystal had long since discarded all data, leaving only the most primal whispers of instinct:
Finally...found it...

Real... valuable...

opponent.

"It seems you are quite satisfied." Ovira's voice, resonating through some kind of connection, echoed directly in the consciousness of Perec and the Sky, calm as if narrating an epic: "Hopefully, this will also be a battle that satisfies it." Because, like the Sky, it too yearned to gain something from this battle.

Both Nidhogg, the "dragon that devours heaven and earth," and Herasvalg, the "dragon blessed by heaven and earth," lost what was rightfully theirs due to their own or others' reasons.

If you've lost it, you must take it back.

This is the only irrefutable truth in the world.

The dragon's illusion detached itself completely from the cloud rift, hovering between the swirling storm and the shattered sky. It lowered its head slightly, its gaze falling, and raindrops touched by that gaze condensed into tiny ice crystals before evaporating, refracting iridescent colors and quickly vanishing. It made no sound, yet the entire sky resonated with a deep, somber cadence. Then, it extended its right claw towards the Nibelungen, anchored in the center of the vortex. This simple action elicited a groan from the entire world, as if a fragile glass ball were teetering beneath its claw. The claw closed, and the massive warships, as colossal as mountains, appeared as tiny as children's toys in the shadow of the dragon's claw, easily seized—not to mention the even smaller Taikong. The hurricane generated by the dragon's claw's descent tore at the Taikong's armor like a sharp blade, nearly capsizing it.

The Skyship remained motionless, its fanatical gaze never wavering. It saw a possibility in this new enemy, as if it were seeing its own departed self. It even had a premonition that if it could defeat this dragon and devour its power—the power of fairies, the power of evil gods, the power of demonic dragons, even the power of the young queen… perhaps it could catch up with that creature.

It won't remain just a copy forever; one day, it will gain its own legend.

But is it really possible for such a wish to come true?
The dragon's illusion retracted its right claw, and the skeleton in its chest cavity opened outward, revealing a huge cavity. Calmly and carefully, it placed the Nibelungen from its claw into this cavity, precisely where the hero had pierced the dragon's heart years ago. The ship's hull, like a jewel embedded in its base, or the core returning to its lair, was swiftly enveloped and swallowed by flowing energy, ultimately leaving only a faint, rhythmically pulsating, massive diamond-shaped outline on its surface, with the ship's internal structure still faintly visible.

When the newborn dragon found its heart, true power descended upon the world. The instant the Nibelungen was fully absorbed into its chest, the dragon's illusion contracted inward for a moment, as if all energy and matter were collapsing towards that newborn core. Then came an even more powerful release, transforming into an endless roar that swept across the heavens and earth. The remaining clouds in the sky were completely dispersed, revealing the eternally somber, dark green dome behind; the earth cracked layer by layer, and from its center, a massive rift valley sank downwards. In the farthest, deeper, unseen darkness, the soldiers remaining at Blackfire Fortress lost their will to resist at the mere sound of this roar; the stubborn, ancient rocks in the Feather Mine dried and crumbled; and the strange creatures and monsters dwelling in the darkness of the depths fled frantically towards the even deeper core, even if they had reached the end, they would still use their claws to dig new paths…

Only then did the Dragon Illusion slowly lower its head, its gaze falling for the first time on the tiny humanoid mech.

Are you the opponent this time?
As if to intimidate, or perhaps simply in response, the fuselage of the Taikong suddenly emitted a sharp, ear-piercing metallic friction sound. It could feel every inch of its armor plating resisting the pressure emanating from the enemy. Such oppression not only overwhelmed the mechanical structure, causing even the overloaded magic reactor to groan, but also made its surging blood boil. The dark purple energy pulsated under the mecha shell like uncontrolled blood vessels, and the high-temperature steam gushing from the joints instantly evaporated the rain curtain within a radius of a hundred meters into a white vacuum.

The two gazed at each other from afar, their dark golden, fiery pupils meeting the scarlet optical signal.

This distance was merely a breath away for both of them; launching an attack was a thought away, and hitting the enemy seemed to be just a blink of an eye. But neither of them had such thoughts. Perhaps carefully observing their enemy before the formal battle had become an instinct etched into their bodies. Whether it was a dragon soul controlled by the Holy Grail or a beast created by mortals using technology, they all possessed the same memory. Time seemed to stretch out infinitely. Every falling raindrop, as it passed through the void between them, eerily slowed down, distorted, and finally turned into dust.

Leticia held her breath. Although she was only gazing at the battlefield from afar, the pressure she felt seemed no less than that of the two confronting each other. She felt tense, had difficulty breathing, and even swallowing felt like a forced effort from her last remaining strength. But even the little bat herself didn't understand why she felt this way. Shouldn't the ones who should be tense be the Dragon Illusion and the Skyship? No, it should be their respective controllers: the Mystic King Ovira and the Plague King Perec.

Their battle would determine the fate of a land, tens of millions of people, and even the entire world. Few could face such pressure calmly. Even Leticia, who considered herself audacious and fearless, felt a heavy weight on her heart just imagining the scene, as if a large rock or a mountain was pressing down on her. If it were the Leticia of the past, she certainly wouldn't have felt this way, because what burdened her wasn't the battle itself, but rather the responsibility that came with it. But back then, before meeting Ling and the others, and living a naive life under her grandmother's protection, did the little bat truly understand what responsibility meant?

I don't really understand it now.

But at least they know how to worry.

Is this considered a form of growth?

Gazing towards the battlefield and sensing the tense atmosphere, Leticia, anticipating an imminent battle, suddenly gritted her teeth, turned around, and flew without hesitation towards the cave where she was temporarily sheltering.

As she flew, she thought, even if she couldn't fight alongside her companions, there must be other ways to help, right?

Ovira, if it's you, if it's the all-knowing you, if it's the you who made a promise to me, you can definitely do it!

and so.

Don't let us down... (End of Chapter)