The grand, majestic voice and the fantastical, wondrous city left the dwarves struck with profound awe. Everything they saw and heard was something they had encountered for the first time in their lives — things they could never have imagined, not even in their wildest dreams. Skyscrapers dozens or even a hundred meters tall made them feel even more diminutive. The countless pinpricks of light, like scattered stars, lent the city an air of vast, boundless grandeur. Every marvel on display — in intricacy and complexity far surpassing steam civilization — dwarfed anything they had ever known. Facing such a city, confronted with one dreamlike wonder after another, Harold and the other dwarves felt as though they were standing in the midst of a boundless cosmos, rendered utterly insignificant by comparison. It was the same feeling of reverent awe they had experienced when they first learned of steam civilization — that sense of being humbled by the brilliance of a greater era. This was the power of civilization itself.
It was a long time before the Grand Elder finally snapped back to awareness. Trembling with emotion, he dropped to his knees, heedless of the scorching sand, and prostrated himself. "Great God of Steam, your kingdom is the dwelling place of all gods, your kingdom is the ultimate expression of steam!"
His prayer recalled the others' souls. Harold and the rest of the dwarves knelt devoutly before the city that seemed the very incarnation of a divine realm, and joined in prayer. "Your grace is vast as the ocean, your majesty heavy as the mountain."
That holy, solemn voice rang out once more: "Those who do not walk my path must not reveal my name before others."
The Grand Elder paused for a beat, then quickly caught on and led Milna and the other dwarves in the response: "Those who do not walk the path shall not speak the sacred name."
The voice, as if descending from the heavens, continued: "All who forsake me shall be devoured by steam."
Prepared now, the dwarves answered in unison: "All who forsake the glory of our Lord shall be devoured by steam!"
The voice grew ethereal and distant: "As my servants, as my chosen kin, you shall never again be slaves to others."
The dwarves spoke as one: "We shall never profane your glory!"
After several rounds of call and response, the voice in the sky gradually faded. Then, abruptly, Harold saw the city before them begin to swell.
It dissolved into countless phantasms that surged toward them like a rushing tide. Within those "phantasms," the strange vehicles forged of iron grew ever larger and ever more transparent, revealing their complex, exquisitely crafted inner structures — pistons, bearings, and all manner of core machinery utterly unlike a steam engine, along with mysterious, arcane patterns of unfathomable meaning.
Within the "phantasms," the great iron birds similarly expanded and turned transparent, exposing orderly rows of seats inside, as well as the precision mechanisms and networks of conduits hidden beneath their steel shells.
Within the "phantasms," the rough outlines of skyscrapers, factories, smokestacks, bridges, and countless other structures surfaced one detail at a time.
…
The sight left them dizzy and disoriented. Harold, Quiggins, and all the other dwarves felt as though their heads were about to explode. It was all far too complex to comprehend.
They simply could not understand!
The phantasms collapsed into clusters of luminous motes that crashed into their chests. Everything before their eyes rippled like water, then began to shatter and fragment.
"This is what you sought. As for the rest, you must find it through strength, courage, perseverance, and fearlessness."
The grand, boundless voice seemed to whisper at the ear of every dwarf.
In his trance-like state, the Grand Elder did not forget to lead the others in prayer: "We revere your sacred name and walk your path. We shall establish your kingdom upon the earth!"
The desert of golden sand shattered completely. Harold and the rest felt the world spin around them, and they sank into slumber.
They did not know how long they slept. Slowly, they began to stir, opening their eyes to find themselves in an underground cavern — familiar, yet somehow strange.
"What… what happened?" the Grand Elder asked blankly, staring at the altar before him, which looked oddly unsettling.
Harold sat in a daze, staring at the thick book that had materialized in his hands. He had only studied dwarven script under the Grand Elder for two years, and the complex words on the cover were agonizingly difficult to make out: "Introductory Mechanical Forging."
"God — the God of Steam truly descended!" Harold blurted out.
He was trembling with excitement. The other dwarves too had discovered the books in their own hands. Startled by Harold's unrestrained shout, they then burst into tears — weeping for the first ray of sunlight to pierce the darkness and despair of their lives.
By now, their "memories" had returned to their minds: the dwarven resistance fighters they were had stumbled upon this cave — a place where the steam civilization once worshipped its god — and had made it their hiding place, restoring the rites of worship. Today, Harold had accidentally let the vampire Tess, Galata, and their entourage track them down, and many of their kin had been slaughtered. Just when all hope seemed lost, the altar had suddenly blazed to life. The deity descended and instantly purified Tess and her companions. Then the "deity" had guided them into an underground palace adorned with dwarven murals. When they pushed open the palace gates, they beheld a vast desert of golden sand. After a grueling trek through countless hardships, they had finally reached, deep in the desert, an oasis where they saw the miraculous, utterly unimaginable city — "Atlantis," the heavenly kingdom of the God of Steam!
The Grand Elder Augustus, whose own memories felt hopelessly muddled, sighed: "So the underground palace, the murals, the desert, the oasis, and Atlantis were all visions that the great God of Steam allowed our souls to perceive — not real, physical things."
In their current state of confusion, most people who knew of Arcane Magic would suspect that their memories had been tampered with. But these dwarves, having just witnessed a "divine miracle" and with their hearts wide open, took it all as perfectly natural.
Sometimes, whether an illusion works or not depends entirely on how it is employed. Just as the Curse Eye Atlant had written in one of his treatises: "As long as you find the right vulnerability in a soul, you can plant false memories without even using a single spell!"
"No, Grand Elder — it is real. It simply exists in the heavenly kingdom of Steam!" Quiggins, the battle leader of the dwarven resistance, shouted in protest. "One day, we shall make the Lord's path walk upon the earth!"
Harold recalled "Atlantis" and immediately grew wide-eyed and slack-jawed. "I always thought that steam metropolis, with all its mechanical wonders, was the grandest, most awe-inspiring city in existence. I never imagined — never in my wildest dreams — that there could be a miracle city like Atlantis, something that defies imagination entirely!"
"Every single mechanism, every little detail in it was so wondrous — it was as though steam civilization had been developed to its absolute pinnacle. No — it had gone completely beyond what steam civilization could ever achieve," another dwarf declared, half-mad with fervor.
Under ordinary circumstances, the other dwarves — who revered ancient steam civilization — would have mercilessly mocked, ridiculed, and cursed him for such a statement, perhaps even beaten him senseless. But now, nearly all of them could not help but nod quietly in agreement. Not merely because it was the God of Steam's heavenly kingdom, but because of everything they had witnessed with their own eyes.
A dreamlike city!
Harold's expression grew fervent, his fists clenched tight. "Atlantis… Atlantis… My goal is to build an Atlantis on the surface — even half as wondrous would do. No — even a third!"
"That dazzling, resplendent river of starlight… I will never forget it," Milna murmured, as if speaking in a dream. "What a pity I couldn't see the structure of that enormous metal flying arrow."
"Yes… what a pity…" Every dwarf wore an expression of deep regret. They both longed for and feared that weapon the "deity" had apparently forged to annihilate the world. In that moment, it had seemed as though a new sun had been born.
"Besides, my memory of the other structures is rather hazy…" Harold said with some dejection. But he rallied quickly. "We have to lay a solid foundation first!"
He raised the book in his hand, then noticed, puzzled, that a piece of parchment was tucked between its pages.
He pulled it out and found it was a contract — one that formalized everything promised in the dream.
"The great God of Steam has issued a divine decree: we are to follow the principle of 'equivalent exchange.' This is a cardinal creed of the Kingdom of Steam and Machinery," the Grand Elder said, sensing the deity's implication, his voice brimming with excitement. Without a moment's hesitation, he signed the contract.
For a God of Steam who had saved their lives and possessed the miracle city of Atlantis, Harold and the others harbored not a shred of doubt. They followed the Grand Elder's lead and signed. And for them, the most important provision was the very last clause: "In the near future, the faithful dwarves shall receive new life. They shall leave the Dark Highlands and be freed forever from vampire bondage."
A flash of light — the contract took effect.
Hidden outside the cavern, Lucian gave a quiet nod, then turned and departed.
After the illusion ended, he had gone to considerable effort to transfer the dwarves to this underground cave — discovered by his "Arcane Eye" — without alerting anyone. He then scrambled the sequence of their memories and fabricated a few guiding falsehoods, all to circumvent the fact that he did not yet have the ability to weave fully convincing true memories. But if they became firmly convinced of these memories, then after enough time had passed, it would become nearly impossible to distinguish truth from fiction.
As for the desert of golden sand and the city of Atlantis, those had been conjured by Lucian using a 5th-ring illusion spell — "Mirage" — cast with Afreus's blood. The specific template was drawn from some of Earth's great metropolises. As for the mechanical structures and other hazy details, he had woven in a host of arcane symbols. Even if a Legendary magician were to discover it someday, they would likely conclude it was the ultimate product of mass-produced magical alchemy — a future born from someone's imagination.
After leaving the underground cavern, Lucian's expression grew gradually more solemn. From the dwarves' openhearted recounting of their memories, he had learned that the two dead vampires were the wife and butler of the nearby lord, Count Vlad. The female dwarf vampire, in particular, was a newlywed bride whom Count Vlad doted on extravagantly.
"Ordinary vampires going missing is one thing," Lucian thought. "But the disappearance of these two will surely send Vlad into a rage. He will pursue the matter to the end. Through the bloodlink with his progeny, his familiarity with his domain, and the keen instincts of a high-ranking vampire, there is a real chance he will discover the underground palace — and the spatial node within."
"This matter must be dealt with."
Lucian began walking toward the castle of Count Vlad.
…
The next morning, when the constellations had shifted and dawn arrived, the dwarven laborers were once again set to work under the lashes of several overseers. As for the fact that the mistress and butler had not returned all night, the overseers paid it no mind. The "deputy butler" had already informed them that they had found traces of the dwarven resistance and had gone in pursuit. It was entirely normal for such matters to take two or three days.
In the basement of the ancient, gloomy castle — within a space enveloped by layers of dark magic circles — rested a crimson coffin. Thick black mist seeped from it at intervals. This was where the vampire Count Vlad slumbered to heal his wounds, and it served as the command core of the entire fortress. Every time Vlad entered his slumber, he fully activated the magic circles and traps surrounding the basement to prevent any rival vampires from infiltrating and assassinating him.
According to Vlad's own boasts, the defenses of his castle's core had taken over a thousand years to lay. Even a vampire Marquis or Duke would find it utterly impossible to breach the circles without alerting him. A brute-force assault would require at least a Duke-class powerhouse and an exorbitant amount of time to break through — a veritable paragon of defensive engineering. By comparison, the offensive capability of this core defensive formation was rather lacking.
The means of communicating with Count Vlad while he was in the basement was held by Mistress Tess, Butler Galata, and two other vampire brides. In principle, the best way to assassinate Count Vlad would be to fabricate a message and use the remaining two vampire brides to lure him out. However, if one could not kill or immobilize him swiftly, the self-preservation and escape abilities of a high-ranking vampire were astonishingly formidable. Everything would be exposed in an instant. Moreover, an ancient vampire count who had survived the Dawn War was no fool to be easily duped — the slightest inconsistency in the ruse would be spotted and turned against the attacker. This was a mission that could not afford to fail.