"O great God of Steam, Master of Life and Death, your servant
"...By your guidance, we have infiltrated the entirety of Vlad's domain, influenced the castles of all nearby mid-tier vampires, and caused twenty-three thousand seven hundred and eighty-six dwarves to chant your name, hailing you as the Holy One..."
"...Two thousand six hundred and nine faithful have already perished in battle against the vampires and their blood thralls. We have begun to draw the attention of high-tier vampires, and our actions grow ever more dangerous..."
"Please descend once more with your guidance, that these devout dwarves may be freed from vampire slavery, depart from the Dark Night Plateau, and receive new life."
"Steam Supreme."
The holy icon before Augustus was rather peculiar—a thick, tower-shaped dart, round and squat, gray and dusty, carved with countless strange patterns. It had been modeled after the shape of that world-annihilating weapon they had seen in "Atlantis"—in Lucian's words, this was called "the Nuclear Bomb God Cult."
Prostrate on the ground, Augustus prayed devoutly for the God of Steam to send down another divine oracle. Even though more than three years had passed without receiving any further guidance from the God of Steam, he harbored not the slightest doubt, believing it merely a trial from the divine.
Yet his heart was filled with urgency and worry. In the early days, when their numbers were still small, the dwarves had managed quite well in this domain thanks to favorable conditions—
But as the dwarves of the Steam God Cult grew more numerous and spread into the territories of nearby mid-tier vampires, the situation had suddenly become dire. The vampires' formidable melee strength, quasi-magical abilities, and terrifying speed meant that the dwarves often had to suffer over a hundred casualties just to wound a mid-tier vampire and force it to retreat. Even the later invention of indiscriminate explosive bullets had proven of little use.
According to Harold and Quiggins, unless they could recreate the massive warships and great cannons of the ancient steam civilization—a single shot devastating a vast area—there would be no hope of killing the astonishingly swift mid-tier vampires.
"But with our current knowledge, capabilities, and resources, there's simply no way to build that kind of terrifying cannon..." Dwarf rebel leader Quiggins had said at the time, his words tinged with despair.
And Augustus, Grand Bishop of the Steam God Cult, had replied with even greater worry: "And these are only mid-tier vampires. If we were to alarm a high-tier one, or if Count Vlad were to awaken, then even the great cannons would be useless, unless..."
The "unless" was left unfinished, but whether it was Quiggins, Harold, or Milna, all of them understood perfectly well what the Grand Bishop was referring to—the ultimate weapon of the steam civilization within the city of Atlantis, one that seemed capable of annihilating the entire Dark Night Plateau, that could briefly conjure a legendary sun.
At this thought, Augustus prayed all the more fervently. The most perilous of circumstances was the greatest test of faith.
"You rule over all, holding dominion over the boundary between life and death. You are King of Kings, God above Gods."
Having finished his prayers and about to rise, a solemn and majestic voice suddenly resounded in Augustus's mind:
"The distant future has drawn near. Take up the scepter and guide the dwarves to new life."
Augustus's eyes flew wide open. Trembling with excitement, he prostrated himself fully once more, stammering: "We chant your name, we obey your command."
He felt light bloom before his eyes, the dim underground cavern becoming as bright as if bathed in the glow of a silver moon. It was a hallucination born of his tremendous joy.
After calming himself slightly, he came to his senses and asked in humble reverence: "O great God of Steam, I do not know how to guide the dwarves to leave."
Though he knew from ancestral oral traditions that the dwarves' forebears had come from somewhere else, he had absolutely no idea how to depart from the Dark Night Plateau.
"Follow my guidance. Do not ask why."
"We hail you as the Holy One. May we, under the radiance of your glory, be freed from all suffering and evil." Receiving his instructions, Augustus's aged face blazed with radiant light. He strode out from the altar platform, opened the stone door, and announced to the dwarves outside with vigor and excited confidence: "Relay the command to every dwarf of the Steam God Cult—assemble here within three days. The great God of Steam has issued a divine oracle! We shall leave the Dark Night Plateau!"
After a brief silence, led by the dwarf maiden Milna, all the dwarves present cried out in unison: "Steam Supreme!"
Tears of joy and excitement streamed freely across their faces.
…………
Three days later.
In this vast underground cavern within Count Vlad's domain, dwarves who had secretly rushed over from surrounding areas were gathered in massive numbers—nearly twenty-one thousand strong.
Some carried high-pressure steam backpacks and wielded enormous steam rifles, guarding the entrances to the labyrinthine cave network. Others wore tattered rags, their bodies covered in whip scars. The one thing they all shared was the radiant gleam of hope shining on every face.
"The time appointed by the oracle has come. I am gratified that every living follower of the Steam God Cult has made it here—this is a testament to your devotion, and you shall receive your salvation." Augustus wore a robe that, by human standards, would be considered a short tunic, and he held aloft a silver-gray scepter shaped like a "missile." "And I, the earthly voice of the God of Steam, shall lead you forward."
"Along the way, no matter how dangerous, no matter how desperate, do not be afraid, and do not hesitate. We have the protection of the divine!"
"March!"
The dwarves responded as one with "Steam Supreme," then, following the Military Training Manual bestowed upon them by the god, formed ranks and advanced through the underground caverns in orderly, silent formation.
They all understood. Staying on the Dark Night Plateau offered not the slightest glimmer of hope for a life worth living—sooner or later, they would die in humiliation. The appearance of the God of Steam had instantly given the hopeless a spiritual anchor. Left was death, right was death—they might as well risk everything once. Even those few dwarves who hesitated and feared were swept along by those around them.
They passed through cavern after cavern, the terrain gradually rising, until dense clusters of gravestones appeared all around them.