Steampunk Era: Mad Abield
Chapter 103: Ninety-One: Reactions from All Parties

Chapter 103: Ninety-One: Reactions from All Parties

The next day, the pursuit of the assassin continued, but Malin felt that if they hadn’t caught him yesterday, it was even less likely they would catch him today.

During the replay of yesterday’s battle, Malin discovered a problem—from the very beginning to the end, he had never been able to truly confirm the assassin’s form: whether the Transcendent had used abilities similar to vaporization or something like an Elemental Avatar from a Spell Formation. Neither Malin nor anyone else could figure it out.

Colin said there were none of the fluctuations that are unique to Spell Formation use, but in the obscure world of the Transcendents, no one knew if such abilities existed in all Sequences.

Besides those very common Sequences that let the public know their abilities, who could guarantee it wasn’t some magical item causing this effect?

However, during that one kick, Malin genuinely felt the force of impact—it was the kind of sensation that only comes from kicking something solid. Given Malin’s understanding of his own strength, a kick to someone’s leg like that would definitely result in a fracture, no escaping it.

Therefore, the assassin’s unharmed reaction afterward left Malin very puzzled and very curious: was the culprit a shadowy incarnation or an Elemental Avatar, or was it simply using a tool to conceal his movements?

But obviously, the culprit wouldn’t be foolish enough to come back again. In Malin’s opinion, he should not appear... at least not for the time being.

He might not even target Malin at all, after all, under the protection of his own legendary father and his mother, a Legendary Battle Mage, who doesn’t know that Malin’s presence could be another dragon’s lair and tiger’s cave? The Church of the Goddess of Harvest might seem disconnected from worldly conflicts, but it’s for this reason that more of its members live on to become legends—like old Hoffman. Malin was stunned when he heard that this man was a standard Legendary figure.

After all, nobody could imagine an old man in a wheelchair being a Legendary figure.

So Malin quickly decided to carry on with his life as usual—considering the mindset of an assassin, since he could devise such a refined assassination plan, he definitely wouldn’t be rash. Seeing Malin continuing his life as if nothing had happened, he surely wouldn’t strike recklessly and might instead retreat altogether.

After all, Malin was not his target.

.........

"Mr. Mischael, you are really unfortunate, to have tripped on flat ground and injured your leg like this," the Sister of Merciful Love with her medicine cart walked into the ward. Mischael, who was reading the newspaper, responded with an embarrassed smile: "Sorry, dear sister, I have no idea what happened. I just stepped down yesterday, hoping to go to the corridor for some air. Who would have thought I’d end up like that?"

The Sister of Merciful Love shook her head with a smile, handing over some pills and potions to Mischael: "The physician said that, since your body just underwent extensive Divine Arts healing, in order to avoid developing a resistance to Spell Formations, your foot can only be treated with potions and Thanan medicine now."

"How long will it take?" asked Mischael.

"Half a month, you can receive Divine Arts healing after half a month," explained the Sister of Merciful Love with a smile.

Mischael watched the sister push the cart out of the room, his smile never fading. He lay down on the bed, the young man who had never tasted defeat on his path of vengeance finally savoring the bitter fruit of failure.

The assassination attempt yesterday had failed, and in a bewildering fashion.

The assassination plan was the result of meticulous investigation and confirmation, no mistake in the intelligence beforehand. He adopted a Black Mist form, and adhering to the shadow of that Panso cat-person named Maya who was entering the Church, his target was the boy named Malin, who was nearby. Everything was supposed to flow smoothly, but when that little leopard girl approached the target, all he needed to do was to emerge from the shadow to kill them.

Then he would slip into the void, returning to the present world using the coordinates he had memorized before. Even after five hundred years, records of this operation would remain in the Assassin’s Guild for review.

Unfortunately, things changed unexpectedly at the last moment. The little leopard girl took a few steps back and then called her brother.

From that point on, as it seems now, things spiraled out of control. Feeling something was off, he attempted to force the assassination, but missteps led to failure at the last moment, the two daggers thrown even injured bystanders due to the loss of balance.

Mischael felt as if the sky was falling. Why had it turned out this way?

What exactly was the deal with that little leopard girl named Maya? Had she discovered him? Impossible, he had followed her for a full twenty minutes; if she had noticed, she could’ve simply called out in the hall, erected a Dimensional Anchor, and he would’ve died right there. But she did not, yet she somehow sensed something was off at the training ground.

Was it a Transcendent ability?

Mischael was puzzled, perplexed.

But all of that was immaterial; after all, it’s impossible for everyone to achieve victory all the time. For every loss, there’s a win.

But what really troubled Mischael was Malin.

Mischael admitted that he had underestimated Malin. He seemed like just a little Priest, a seemingly frail and helpless child, yet in yesterday’s battle, he burst forth with such immense power.

In their one exchange of kicks, Mischael had even pulled his punches, fearing he might kick Malin to death, only to nearly get killed himself—if he hadn’t vaporized in time, his entire leg would’ve been done for.

The kick from that child was infused with the power of ice and snow elements. It took Mischael five minutes to dispel this frosty force, only then did he realize that his leg was swollen beyond recognition.

What’s even more frightening was the tree branch in the kid’s hands.

```

That was... the divine weapon bestowed upon the most valiant warriors by the God of Justice.

This signified that Malin had been noticed by the God of Justice; regardless, Mischael had to let go of his vengeful thoughts—indeed, one could find an opportunity to kill the child with patience, but if he really killed him, he would have to face the pursuit of the God of Justice.

That was a formidable power wielder from a foreign land, and Mischael felt there was no need to offend a deity over pride—so, just as that kind sister had said, it was best to focus on healing. After all, as the Thanan people say, there’s plenty of time; let’s wait and see.

.........

"Mother, don’t worry, I’m fine." Boone felt that his mother was really too... too sensitive.

Although the injury was severe, it wasn’t the worst he had sustained over the years. During that time, Boone had been injured numerous times in the battle against Chaos, the most serious one even resulting in his intestines spilling out.

But that damn Chaos bastard didn’t fare any better; Boone settled it with a knife in the mud and water.

"Shut up, here’s your medicine, I got it from the Hospital of the Goddess of Loving-kindness, eat it!" Manli stood with her hands on her hips, looking at her eldest son: "You child, if it weren’t for little Mr. Malin’s intervention, you would be dead!"

"Mother, I’m not a child, look at Gene, he’s the one who needs your strict discipline."

Sitting on the side and reading a novel, Gene looked up, and the child who had been sold out by his father sighed: "Father, could you not diss me like that."

"Diss? What does that mean?" His father and mother asked concurrently.

"It’s roughly saying false things about someone." Gene said, pointing to the book in his hand: "Mr. Holmes said it."

"Young man, you should read fewer books and spend more time in the training grounds." Boone rolled his eyes—he detested the so-called rational persuasion; with a strong fist, one Chaos folk after another, who would bother to reason with them?

However, his father didn’t appreciate this statement: "Shut up, it’s precisely because you are young that you should read more and gain some insight. Otherwise, you’ll end up just like your brothers, all you remember is fighting and not even knowing how to save your life."

Dak tried hard to curl up on the couch, reducing his presence.

"Dear, Boone’s injury is severe, and he received a high amount of Divine Arts recently. He also consumed quite a few Spell Formations yesterday; now the wound can only heal on its own—so let him be," Anna, seated on another chair and not lifting her head from her daughter’s novel, replied.

"...You’re reading that book too, by the way, is it any good?" As head of the Mowish family, Goethe had a bit of curiosity— it had been over a decade since the last time his wife, son, and daughter sat together reading novels.

"Very interesting, it’s written by Malin, and Faye helped as well, these two kids are really something," Anna smiled, turning a page, then replied.

Without a word, Manli sat down next to Anna and began to read with her: "Speaking of which, Anna."

"Sister, what’s the matter?" Anna turned to glance at her sister.

"If I wanted to express my gratitude to Malin, what gift should I give him?" Manli inquired with a smile, looking at her sister.

"Well," Anna pondered for a moment: "I think you could just give him some money, but I heard he’s awakened his Frost Giant bloodline and is probably eager to choose a weapon. I remember the Stansen family has quite a few Frost Giant weapons; those old scraps of metal are now outdated for any berserker, but for a Frost Giant, a weapon in hand is always better than none. If you want to give something formal, such a weapon would be a good choice."

"Good idea, thank you, Anna."

"You’re welcome, sister."

After the mothers’ conversation, Boone’s eldest son carefully approached Faye, which made her warily look at her big nephew.

"Aunt Faye, you know the guy who writes novels."

"Yes, what is it?"

"I want to duel him! Aunt Jane and Uncle Holmes are so clearly meant for each other, why can’t they be together!"

Faye shook her head: "I don’t want to introduce him to you."

"Why!" Gene screamed: "I want to beat up this author!"

...That’s exactly why I don’t want to introduce him to you, you silly nephew.

```

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