Mad Hatter's Guide to Clearing The Game
Chapter 131: Ch129. The war that was

Chapter 131: Ch129. The war that was

The world around them shuddered, moved and warped.

Alice did not move, but the Spire did. The space between them bent, cracked, and unfurled like the pages of a forgotten book, a story buried beneath layers and layers of time.

The Hatter-Miles felt it all at once. A pull, a shift, and then a sudden, terrible weight that pressed down on his soul, like stepping into a place where history had been burned into the ground.

***

The air smelled of ink and roses. Of spilled tea and war drums. The Hatter-Miles was not in the Spire anymore.

He staggered as his boots touched soft, dewy grass. He blinked, his breath unsteady as he took in his surroundings. The sky above was painted in a twilight hue, bleeding shades of violet and deep blue, and in the distance, he could see the towering shape of a castle – her castle – looming over the heart of Wonderland.

His Wonderland.

And he was standing in his own parlor.

The great, endless tea table stretched before him, a beautiful mess of porcelain cups, silver cutlery, and plates stacked to the sky. Lanterns swung lazily from invisible strings, glowing like captured fireflies. The wind hummed a song through the trees, rustling the leaves in a rhythm that had once been familiar. But this was not the present.

The air felt wrong, something dark curled at the edges of this memory, and then a voice.

Frantic. Breathless.

"My good sir! My dear, you must listen to me!"

The Hatter turned, and there he was.

The White Rabbit.

He had not seen the creature in ages, and yet the sight of him sent an ache through his chest. The poor thing looked exactly as the Hatter remembered. Flustered, twitching, his spectacles slipping down his nose as he fumbled with his pocket watch. His white fur was matted with dirt, his little paws trembling.

He had been running.

The Hatter frowned. His past self stood near the table, one hand resting on the edge of a teapot, watching the White Rabbit with an expression that was far too calm for the storm brewing around them.

"What is it this time, old friend?" The Hatter asked, voice laced with amusement. "Late for another execution?"

The White Rabbit flinched.

"This is no time for jests!" He snapped, ears twitching violently. "The Queen, she is preparing for war!"

The words struck the air like thunder.

The Hatter-Miles felt his stomach twist, even before his past self responded.

The man he had once been smiled, but it did not reach his eyes.

"Well, of course she is," the Hatter mused. "She’s always preparing for war. If she had her way, Wonderland would be nothing but battlefields and gallows."

"This time it is different." The White Rabbit’s voice dropped, urgent and quiet. "This time, she has declared war against Alice."

The world stilled.

The Hatter did not speak at first, only staring at the Rabbit, the mirth in his expression draining away like ink in water.

"She is coming for her," the White Rabbit continued, his voice tight with fear. "For Alice, for the rebels, for all those who seek to remove her from her throne. She is raising her banners in numbers never seen before. The Red Kingdom marches upon us!"

The Hatter exhaled, long and slow. He set down the teapot with careful precision, his gloved fingers lingering on its handle. His other hand twitched, curling into a fist against the tablecloth.

"War, then..." He murmured. "So, it has come to this."

"I beg you," the White Rabbit pleaded, stepping closer. "You know how much influence you hold. There are those who will follow you into battle. You could tip the scales in Alice’s favor!"

The Hatter chuckled, but it was empty, hollow. He tilted his head, tapping a finger against his temple.

"Do I look like a soldier to you, old friend?"

"No," the Rabbit said, firm despite his shaking paws. "But you are mad, and that is far more dangerous."

Silence stretched between them, and in that silence, the weight of the moment pressed down. The Hatter-Miles remembered this conversation. He remembered his hesitation, the uncertainty gnawing at him, and he remembered the truth beneath it.

It had not been hesitation.

It had been dread.

Because deep down, he had known. He had known that if the Queen had truly set her sights on war, then there would be no more tea parties, no more riddles, no more laughter at the table.

There would only be ruin.

He had known it then.

And yet...

The scene shifted, the memory unraveling like threads coming loose, dissolving and reforming into something darker.

The sky above turned black. The twilight hues vanished, swallowed by storm clouds that crackled with streaks of crimson lightning. The distant castle flared to life, the Red Queen’s banners unfurling from its towers like rivers of blood.

The first horns sounded.

The ground trembled beneath the Hatter’s feet as a terrible thudding filled the air, a rhythm both unnatural and precise. A march toward war. And from the darkness beyond the trees, they emerged.

The [Card Soldiers]. Row after row of them, their grotesque figures imposing and fearsome, their armor gleaming like polished steel under the storm-lit sky. Their faces were devoid of any emotion other than bloodthirst, the glowing insignia on their helms – the Queen’s sigil – burning bright on their metal plates.

The White Rabbit gasped, stumbling backward.

"W-what are they?"

"They’re death..." The Hatter-Miles answered, even though his old friend was not able to hear him.

The Hatter remained still, watching as the first wave of soldiers crossed the threshold of his domain. The endless tea party stood between them, a flimsy barrier against an army that would not stop. The cups, the plates, the lanterns, they were nothing before the tide of war.

The Queen’s forces had arrived.

And Wonderland would never be the same again.

The memory pulsed, the weight of it so heavy that even the Hatter-Miles felt it pressing against his chest. He had thought he had buried this moment long ago. That time had swallowed it, but now...

He saw it for what it truly was.

The beginning of the end.

The Hatter-Miles watched as his past self reached into his coat and drew his hat from his head, turning it over in his hands.

Not a soldier, no.

But mad enough to fight.

"I’ll take the deal." The Hatter said.

A cold, chilling breeze blew from nowhere, and as if from nowhere itself, a voice – chilling, devoid of emotion, cold and calculating – resounded.

"I knew you’d come to me..."

And Miles knew that voice.