Having been a "Great Musician" who had witnessed the prayers of the Church of the
"Should I use magic to erase their memories, so that if vampires capture them, this node won't be exposed?" Secrecy was Lucian's first instinct. But as his gaze swept the scene, he noticed the iron furnaces, steam hammers, and other equipment in the rooms flanking both sides of the hall, and a thought suddenly struck him: "They still have basic steam civilization knowledge? They can still carry out relatively complex smelting?"
"If alchemical goods are to be simplified and made widely available, isn't the missing piece precisely skilled 'workers' who can cast gears and such? If a large number of dwarves were recruited and set to training the next generation, that initial hurdle would be overcome." For a long time, alchemical items had been monopolized by mages, and the Council was reluctant to put its painstakingly trained apprentices to manual labor. In Hallam and other nations, apart from ordinary blacksmiths, there were virtually no common folk who could join an alchemical workshop. This problem had long plagued Lucian's ambition to popularize alchemical products — not only could it bring him enormous wealth, but it could also undermine the Church's foundations of faith. Normally it would take generations of cultivation and upbringing to establish anything resembling a sizeable "working class," but the appearance of these dwarven descendants from the steam civilization gave Lucian a glimmer of hope that the problem could be partially solved within a single generation.
"Mighty God of Steam, may your supreme name spread across the world!" The dwarves' fervent prayers drifted into Lucian's ears, and he quickly formulated a plan. "I'll have them serve the Arcane Magic Council under the name of their deity. This way their loyalty is maximally assured — they won't flee to the dwarven kingdom after being rescued, nor will they leak the core secrets of alchemical goods. Moreover, with divine instruction behind it, getting them to sign magical contracts will be much easier." Although a life-saving debt plus a magical contract could already handle most of the problem — after all, the vast majority of dwarves, when choosing between becoming vampire food and slaves versus becoming "new-era industrial workers," would unhesitatingly pick the latter and sign a harsh but at least not hopeless contract — since there was a better method to add an extra layer of insurance, Lucian wouldn't refuse it.
"I still have a mission to complete, and the teleportation circle set up at this spatial node can't transport large numbers of people out. Frequent activation would risk detection by the vampire prince. Better to let them continue 'lying low' in the Dark Highland and develop more of their kind. The current numbers are still far too few." Lucian decided that after completing his mission, he would request the Council to install a "Planar Gate," which would allow him to transport all the willing dwarves out in one go, avoiding a direct war with the vampire race. If the Arcane Magic Council suddenly launched a full-scale war against the vampires over the Dark Highland, the ones who would be grinning in their sleep would be the Southern Church. As for the dwarven casualties that would result, though Lucian felt a twinge of sympathy, he could still make the ruthless call. Liberation never came without a blood price — this wasn't some genteel dinner party!
The fourth-tier spell "Greater Invisibility" didn't dispel upon attacking, so the invisible Lucian pulled a crystal-like vial from his storage pouch and gently uncorked it. The dreamlike liquid instantly dissolved into a colorless, odorless mist that enveloped the great hall.
.........
Ecstasy, gratitude, and excitement drove the dwarves to pray ceaselessly, repeating their prayers over and over, as if a blissful new life was truly about to unfold. A world without the vampires' cruel enslavement and slaughter — how wonderful would that be?
Suddenly, Harold felt the cool breeze washing over him grow slightly warmer, and he opened his eyes to find, in astonishment, that the gray stone bricks of the underground palace had turned into scorching yellow sand.
"Go. Go deep into the desert and find my kingdom."
"Go. There you will find everything you have ever desired."
A grand, ethereal, majestic and holy voice drifted from the distant horizon, and Harold and the other dwarves bowed their heads once more, pressing them tight against the burning sand: "We revere your sacred name and shall carry out your will, O our supreme Master, who rules over all things in this world."
A long time passed, and no further voice came. The Grand Elder cautiously and humbly raised his head, only to see that the underground palace had been replaced by an endless expanse of golden desert, with the faint outline of an oasis on the distant horizon.
"Is this... the power of a god?"
The same question escaped the dwarves' lips once more, but this time it was filled with awe and submission. The scorching wind blew against their faces, and the dwarves stood frozen in place, stunned by a desert landscape they had never witnessed — only heard about — overwhelmed by the boundless, rolling dunes of yellow sand.
"That... is the sun? Is this what daytime looks like?" Harold murmured, gazing up at the blazing white fireball in the sky, waking the Grand Elder and the other dwarves from their stupor. Yes — this was a place utterly unlike the Dark Highland!
After a long while, the young dwarven woman Milna asked in a tone of puzzled confusion: "Grand Elder, where should we go?"
"Where should we go?" The Grand Elder blinked, then quickly remembered the God of Steam's oracle. "We go deeper into the desert! To find the Master's earthly kingdom!"
Hearing the Grand Elder's voice brimming with emotion and excitement, Harold was nearly wild with joy: "Grand Elder, will we be able to obtain the complete heritage of the steam civilization there? I want to build a Steam City just as you described!"
"Yes, Grand Elder, I feel the same as Harold — I want to see black chimneys rising like a forest, to see airships that soar freely like birds powered by steam alone, to see the terrifying dreadnoughts and great cannons!" Quinkins trembled all over with excitement. This was the ultimate dream of their ragtag dwarven resistance, who had stumbled upon an incomplete legacy — that magnificent and glorious megacity of steam!
Looking at Milna — her features delicate and sturdy, her cheeks flushed red — and at the other dwarves, their eyes reddened and their beards quivering, the Grand Elder raised his arm and declared in a ringing voice: "The great Master of Life and Death has told us: there, we shall receive everything!"
"March into the depths of the desert!"
"Steam above all! March into the depths of the desert!"
The other dwarves answered in unison, their voices mighty and resolute.
.........
There was no set road, no clear directions. Yet every dwarf seemed to faintly sense something in the distance calling to them, and so not a single one lost their way as they trudged on through the sand.
No one knew how long they had been walking. The dry, scorching sunlight and the sand-laden gale gradually revealed to even these hardy dwarves the true terror of the desert. Throats grew parched. Heads began to spin.
"Milna, are you all right?" Harold saw the young dwarven woman beside him swaying and hurriedly steadied her.
Milna gritted her teeth and shook her head: "I'm fine. This is the Master's trial, and I will endure it until I reach the Master's earthly kingdom!"
Her resolute words straightened the backs of the other dwarves who had begun to waver. She was right — this was the Master's trial. If they couldn't even endure this much hardship, what right did they have to the God of Steam's favor?
Suddenly, the Grand Elder's elated voice reached everyone's ears: "Look — look over there!"
The dwarves followed Grand Elder
"It's there! It's the place the oracle spoke of!"
At their most desperate, most parched moment, finding a "clear spring" — the dwarves erupted with every last ounce of passion and surged toward the hazy, giant city. The distance shrank rapidly, the city grew clearer by the moment, when suddenly a tremendous roar thundered across the sky.
The dwarves all looked up to see a terrifyingly enormous monstrous bird bearing down from the opposite horizon, heading straight for the giant city. As the strange behemoth passed over their heads, the roar grew sharper still, setting their ears ringing — and they caught a clear glimpse of the creature's true face.
It was no bird. It was a mechanical creation sheathed in silvery-white metal!
Its sheer bulk was staggering — it looked as though it could swallow every dwarf present in a single gulp.
The "bird" flew lower and lower, slower and slower, gradually disappearing near the city.
"Grand Elder, is — is that an airship?" Harold asked, shaken and stunned. It looked nothing like the murals!
The Grand Elder shook his head blankly: "No, not an airship — airships aren't that fast. But it was definitely built!"
"Then what is it?" Every dwarf seemed to be asking the same question.
The Grand Elder set his jaw: "We'll know once we reach the city."
And so the dwarves pressed on, silence settling over them. They had no idea what else they would see as they drew closer.
The distance proved far shorter than they had imagined. After roughly ten minutes, they reached the edge of the oasis and saw the city in full detail.
A chorus of sharp intakes of breath rippled through the dwarven ranks. This was a city beyond their wildest imagination!
On one side of the city rose the towering chimneys and strangely shaped factory buildings that they knew and had yearned for — reaching so high they seemed to scrape the clouds. On other sides of the city stood buildings even taller than the chimneys, structures that no tale of the steam civilization, however exaggerated, had ever described! These densely packed high-rises were clad in smooth tiles of various colors — black, gray, silvery-white, brownish-gold — and from top to bottom, rows upon rows of transparent windows were arranged in perfect, orderly lines. They reflected the sunlight, casting an air of dreamlike wonder.
Between the high-rises and the factory buildings ran wide roads, and spanning the air like bridges over water were elevated land-bridges. On the bridges and roads, one after another strange vehicles of steel raced by — their lines sleek, radiating a beauty all their own. The hazy figures guarding the city's outskirts held metallic objects shaped like steam rifles, but smaller, lighter, more refined.
Harold did not know his eyes could be this sharp. He could clearly see the elevators gliding slowly within the towering buildings, and countless indistinct figures holding strange devices, conversing with companions in other buildings. Milna, too, saw those hazy figures holding flat, plate-like metallic objects — with a gentle press, images would bloom across their surfaces: distant desert vistas, aerial views of the world from high above, as though another entire world lay contained within.
Before they knew it, night had fallen. Light after light blazed to life throughout the city until it blazed with brilliant illumination. Seen from afar, it looked like a "river of stars" that had fallen to the earth — dazzling and fantastical.
The dwarves stood gaping at the unimaginably splendid cityscape, unable to utter a single word for what felt like an eternity.
Suddenly, the ground at the city's edge split open, and a gigantic "metal arrow" blasted out of the fissure, trailing flames, shooting toward the far horizon.
"What — what is that?" The dwarves' eyes instinctively followed the trail of fire, unable to fathom the purpose of this enormous "flying arrow."
The arrow struck the earth at the horizon, and a deafening blast erupted.
The dwarves felt the ground lurch violently beneath their feet, their ears ringing, as a second sun seemed to appear in the distance — blazing, searing, radiating an aura of world-ending destruction. The brilliant sun flashed and vanished; a colossal "mushroom" slowly "bloomed" in its place, the ground below writhing in infernal flames, the black smoke above coiling like the depths of an abyss.
"Tr — truly terrifying," Harold managed, swallowing hard amid the cataclysmic shaking. That "flying arrow" could probably destroy the entire Dark Highland in a single stroke!
The Grand Elder and the other dwarves wore expressions of deep, primal fear. They had never witnessed an explosion so devastating — an explosion that seemed capable of annihilating everything that existed!
Overwhelmed beyond measure, they turned their gaze once more toward that fantastical city, watching the river-of-stars brilliance of its countless lights.
"Grand Elder, where exactly are we?" Harold blurted out, caught between terror and exhilaration. "This is even more — even more unimaginable than the Steam City you described!"
"What — what kind of city is this? How can it surpass even the legendary Steam Paradise of myth!" The sheer magnitude of the shock struck every other dumb as well, and they had all but forgotten the reason they had come here in the first place.
Milna stood trembling from head to toe, murmuring: "This is..."
The grand, majestic voice rang out once more:
"This is Atlantis."
"This is my kingdom."