Steampunk Era: Mad Abield
Chapter 1012: Section 652: Caucasus Trip (Part 3)_2

Chapter 1012: Section 652: Caucasus Trip (Part 3)_2

Then, he invited over that great woman. From the moment Malin laid eyes on her, he immediately understood the leader hadn’t exaggerated—this was indeed a legendary warrior. Though the years had left countless scars on her body, her appearance remained vigorous and far from aged.

In this world, it’s common for legendary War Practitioners to live for a century or two without issue.

"Hello, guest from our homeland," the lady greeted Malin. Similar to her husband, the moment she saw Malin, her pupils noticeably widened. It was evident that, like her husband Wanda, she had seen people resembling Malin before.

"Greetings, madam. It’s truly a blessing to witness a pair of people so genuinely in love. I understand now why you didn’t reveal yourself earlier, and I can relate." Malin reached out his hand to shake hers.

The appearance of the zombies wasn’t appealing, no matter how clean Mr. Wanda seemed to be. To the average person, they’re practically an entirely different species. That Mr. Wanda managed to win over a legendary War Practitioner as his wife was... well, a role model for men everywhere.

See? Even though this lady’s arm was thicker than Malin’s waist, and it seemed like a single punch from her could leave Wanda begging for his life, the love between them was clearly real.

This realization caused Malin to ponder further. Since these two had seen people like him before, combined with their prior statements, he couldn’t help but question the Sage Raphael and the clues he had gathered earlier. Malin began to suspect his father’s identity.

Who exactly was the father of this body?

While carefully hiding his curiosity, Malin noticed the child approaching: "By the way, your child..." "My name is Quetos."

The child’s voice was sharp enough to make Malin glance at her mother.

"She’s a girl." Her mother’s face was filled with a tender smile.

"A lovely girl." Her father’s expression was brimming with joy.

Ah, alright then, Miss Quetos.

Malin awkwardly chuckled.

"My child is the best hunter aside from me. Don’t be fooled by her young age—she inherited her mother’s gift."

Though Malin was slightly concerned, Wanda assured him repeatedly, prompting Malin to let this young girl hit him with her full strength.

"But I’ll hurt you, sir." Despite living in the City of the Living Dead, the child spoke in a flawless dialect of the Eastern Kingdom’s standard language.

Matilda and Miss Meng both burst into laughter simultaneously.

"Uncle, I’m a legend, you know." Malin placed his hands on his hips.

The child stepped up to Malin, though slightly shorter, and shook her head: "I’m really strong. I’ll definitely hurt you."

"Indeed, Mr. Malin, my child is very strong."

After much deliberation, Malin stepped to the side and tore the lamppost—converted into a decorative flowerpot base—straight out of its steel foundation.

It had been a long time since he’d done anything like this. Malin mused over this as he lifted the several-hundred-pound pure metal base—ancient people must’ve been out of their minds to fashion such an item entirely out of metal. The size of the crater in their heads must rival the Moon.

As he marveled at this oddity, Malin glanced at the girl: "Now, do you still think you’ll hurt me?"

"Wow, Mr. Malin really is a legend!" The little girl beamed. "When I train with Dad, I always have to be careful not to hurt him."

With these words, she stepped into the spot Malin had just vacated: "Sir, go ahead."

Malin set down the lamppost and flowerpot, striding over to the child. He extended his hand: "Hit my palm with all your might."

The girl swung her fist and struck.

Malin felt the force—it was impressive—but that was the extent of it. Still, considering this strength came from a child, it was astonishing.

"Do you possess giant bloodlines?" Malin turned to the lady. She blushed slightly and nodded.

In his heart, Malin thought Mr. Wanda and his wife must have complemented one another beautifully—it truly was genuine love.

......

After equipping himself and the group, Malin boarded a small wooden boat. The rower, also a zombie, didn’t speak any conventional language but could understand it, which deepened Malin’s understanding of the zombies’ utility. Even after eight millennia, these beings still carried embedded traits to obey orders within their genetic code.

To come to this point, humanity had no right to blame the zombies.

Perhaps one day, once Chaos dissipated, humans and zombies would find themselves in conflict for survival. But for now, all life on this planet was struggling to endure. Malin saw no reason not to arm those willing to fight Chaos.

After crossing the river and agreeing on the next day for pickup, little Quetos took the lead—Malin had outfitted her with soft armor and a machete crafted from top-grade alloy steel, which, when compared to the zombies’ crude weapons, resembled an artifact in terms of combat effectiveness.

She didn’t know how to wield a revolver, or Malin would have given her one.

This arrangement was already excellent. The young girl led Malin down a shortcut—about three kilometers south was an ancient highway with minor damage but in relatively good condition. Merchants and tribes used this road frequently for trade, which inevitably attracted trouble such as powerful predators. Even as a legend, Malin couldn’t entirely quell the human fear of being targeted.

So the girl took them down a narrow path—one commonly used by messengers, offering greater safety. The forest trails made aerial assaults by Spirits impossible, which was Malin’s current biggest stressor—after all, they could attack from anywhere.

As for ground-dwelling Spirits, the forest’s trees acted as obstacles, rendering ambushes difficult. Moreover, if Malin’s team were to still allow Spirits to get close, they might as well give up altogether—Malin joked internally about hanging himself from a lamppost.

Despite her small stature, Miss Quetos inherited the robust physical genes typical of her giant lineage.

This made Malin increasingly curious. The zombies he saw during the deep dive into the Great Cataclysm truly resembled humans, but how had these artificial beings escaped reproductive isolation with humans?

Was this a design flaw from the start, or was it an adaptive trait acquired over millennia?

Wanda had mentioned that he brought his tribe here decades ago. His wife must’ve reached legendary status during this time, and they had no children until then. Based on Malin’s knowledge, this was likely due to the differences in their bloodlines. Once Wanda gained Spiritual Energy, they conceived this child... Could it be that Spiritual Energy corrected the zombies’ genetic defects, thus bridging the reproductive gap?

And then there was his own bloodline—Wanda and his wife clearly recognized Malin’s paternal lineage. Could it be that the father of Malin’s current body was truly the enigmatic Sage Raphael?

Why would this Sage let his bloodline wander alone? Was it because he had perished?

The identity of his body was a puzzle—both his father and mother were enigmas.

This train of thought brought Malin to a melancholic realization about his descendants.

They still didn’t know who their ancestor was.

But Malin had considered this: if he were to die while battling Chaos and driving them away, and for some reason history failed to record his name—he could live with that outcome.

That said... Malin would never be the type to resign himself to his so-called Fate.

Want to kill me?

Fine, but first ask my sword if it agrees.