Steampunk Era: Mad Abield
Chapter 1029: Section 657: The Crazy Years After 2000 (Part 1)

Chapter 1029: Section 657: The Crazy Years After 2000 (Part 1)

Sitting on the railing of the ship, Malin and Sostak No.3 stared at the city on the shore. The full moon spilled the sun’s brilliance onto the human world at night, but it could not illuminate the city.

"This place is crawling with the different kind. My infrared vision can’t detect any humans, but with my normal visual optics, I can see those specters... Sometimes I wonder, why can an AI like me see these ghostly things?" Sostak No.3 mused as he leaned against the ship’s railing.

There was a trace of helplessness in his voice; Malin, naturally, understood that feeling. Malin had been in the same boat—back when he first arrived in this world, the sight of rats larger than cats and machete-wielding mutant monsters had left him speechless... Though looking back now, they were merely fleeting guests in the journey of life.

This was the offshore area of Mumbai. Looking eastward, the city before Malin was eerily silent, a chill rising instinctively within him. In every direction, wraiths wandered the ruins. This futuristic metropolis of towering skyscrapers had long since lost its former vibrancy, leaving nothing but crumbling walls and countless wandering spirits.

"Actually, in Thainan, there are plenty of cities like this. The cities on the surface—at least humans can pass through them during the day, but some of the underground nests are truly hazardous," Meng Quyi said, gazing at the city through his binoculars. "Although, some of those wraiths do retain their intelligence, and much of what we know about the Great Destruction Era comes from them."

"Is that so?" Malin glanced at Meng Quyi, piqued by curiosity.

"Certainly. Take the Sigher, for example—he’s from the era of the Great Destruction. He said that during that time, humanity had already left the planet beneath our feet, heading toward new worlds, new planets... which, I suppose, meant new worlds untainted by Chaos," Meng Quyi reflected aloud.

But Malin didn’t share the sentiment. He simply gazed at Mumbai until the fleet moved southward, and the city’s silhouette disappeared from the horizon.

This world held aspects familiar to Malin, and yet many parts remained foreign—a world both intimate and estranging.

Murmuring with a sigh, Malin returned to his small tent at the rear deck. The lower deck was simply too hot. Malin often cursed his paternal lineage—it lacked any of the appealing traits his maternal lineage possessed. His mother’s bloodline thrived comfortably even in temperatures dozens of degrees below freezing and had resistance to heat. Not so with his father’s side.

Sprawling flat on the deck, Malin began drifting off to sleep—thinking about why he’d ended up inheriting his father’s bloodline. It all came down to how his mother’s side had started growing a heavy beard. Her face was covered with coarse, bristly whiskers. After breaking three razors attempting to shave it herself, Malin had abandoned any plans to keep shaving her.

It was better to remain small; small people didn’t need to deal with sharp enough stubble to punch through skin. And besides, being small had the tactical advantage of unpredictability—just like earlier this morning, when a group of pirates from Ah San approached the fleet. They thought their numbers would give them the upper hand in a sea-battle. But as they boarded the ship, not one of them noticed Malin, who, crouched in a corner, sent a stone whizzing from his slingshot to crack one of their skulls. He gleefully played sniper while remaining hidden—until his stone broke against the skull of a particularly tough pirate.

Upon discovering a legendary pirate onboard, the remaining invaders promptly screamed and fled into the sea. The Ah San pirates retreated at breakneck speed.

After this incident, Meng Quyi took notice of Malin’s mischievous streak. Malin, of course, merely shrugged it off with a grin—"Why else would I choose to stay small? Not shaving every day is just the good life; and wouldn’t it be even better if waking up each morning was accompanied by a good-natured, nurturing girl?"

Hahaha, living the dream indeed.

......

Malin woke abruptly to the sound of gunfire. Sitting up sharply, he found himself in a dingy alley. The place was dirty, but at least it wasn’t littered with skeletons and wraiths. Instead, there was only a frightened little cat—a physical cat, no less.

Getting to his feet, Malin calmed the small creature by using animal empathy before picking it up and walking out of the alley.

Before him stretched a city entirely unfamiliar. The second-floor storefront signage bore a cacophony of lettering in various scripts. Beings clad in futuristic, lightweight attire conversed in a multitude of languages.

Malin could understand Mandarin and Sydney dialects, alongside traces of Northern accents. As for the other languages... he found it hard to believe: after two thousand years, Mumbai had transformed into a sprawling international metropolis.

Looking up, he saw floating vehicles traversing fixed paths in the sky. Feeling a wave of gratification, Malin mused—"See, what was once a haunted wasteland has now become a thriving metropolitan hub. The future truly is remarkable."

His reflections were cut short when a hand trying to cover his mouth was met by his own, shoving it away. Turning around, Malin stared at a burly figure nursing his arm—and the gang of not-quite-human companions surrounding him.

Malin couldn’t understand their words, but the flash of their knives told him all he needed to know—ah, so they thought Malin’s size made him easy prey for a big score.

Malin tossed the small cat upward, letting his spiritual energy cradle the creature. At the same time, he extended his left hand to send the approaching thug hurtling into a nearby shop.

Before the rest of the group could react, Malin’s kick hit another goon squarely in the crotch, rendering him unconscious as he crumpled backward. Fluidly spinning in mid-air, Malin’s rising whip-leg slammed onto a nearby attacker’s neck—the burly man’s bent figure flew into a store across the

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