Steampunk Era: Mad Abield
Chapter 1030: Section 657: The Madness of the Year 2000 and Beyond (Part 1)_2

Chapter 1030: Section 657: The Madness of the Year 2000 and Beyond (Part 1)_2

A piercing scream tore through the air, prompting the few remaining people who could still move to rush into the crowd.

Malin understood what that scream meant—it was the same tone and pronunciation as the pirates from earlier this morning. Apparently, it was just another way of saying "run for your lives."

He reached out to catch a falling kitten, and with a quick flick of his small hand, the wallets of the few guys lying sprawled on the ground floated into Malin’s grasp. Using his spiritual energy, he rifled through them, pulled out what seemed to be paper money, and casually tossed the wallets back onto their owners’ faces.

As Malin walked away with the kitten in tow, the crowd parted to make way for him. He noticed a small goat-person in the crowd and, after a moment of thought, greeted the little fellow in their native tongue.

The goat-person froze, clearly shocked that this cold-blooded killer could speak their mother language.

After Malin made it clear he wanted the kid to lead him to the Thanan settlement, the little goat readily pounded his chest and assured him it was no problem.

See, that’s the Thanan for you—still the same after eight hundred years, and unchanged even two thousand years later.

With this thought, Malin reached out, summoning two large golden chains from the necks of the fallen men nearby—one flew over independently, while the other dragged its wearer along for the ride.

Holy hell, steel chains? You’re really carrying this thing around without worrying it’ll crush you?

Malin inspected the massive golden chain, pinching it to confirm the fake material before slapping the wearer hard enough to send him collapsing to the ground like a sack of potatoes.

He tossed the genuine golden chain to the goat-person as a reward, causing the kid’s steps to lighten considerably as he led the way. Perhaps thinking Malin wasn’t local, but someone from the Western Human World heading to the Thanan enclave, and considering his appearance, the goat-boy started speaking fluent Thainan official dialect—surprisingly free of errors, except for a slight regional accent.

Your teacher must’ve come from up north, right?

Still, fair enough. With this guide, Malin confirmed his current location: Mumbai, exactly two thousand years later, around the time when Mars would just have graduated from university.

The kid probably wouldn’t show up here though; cat-hybrids despise hot places like this, especially in equatorial regions. Even Malin found the heat unbearable here—how could a feline endowed with luxuriant fur possibly enjoy being in such a climate?

The goat-person continued describing the situation here—Mumbai’s under control by three factions: Thainan’s Oracle Company, Mumbai’s own Night Raven Group, and the Sydneyan Holy Covenant Guild from the Western Human World. Though there’s no outright conflict yet, the three are competing fiercely for dominance over the area, making this place a mercenary’s paradise. All the mercenaries are simply waiting to see who will offer the highest bid for collaboration.

It really is a troubled time, Malin remarked.

Following the goat-person to the Thanan enclave, Malin bid farewell to the kid and randomly entered the Adventurers’ Guild’s "Adventurers Paradise."

"Hey, brat, we don’t... Master, please enter."

The guard at the entrance initially underestimated Malin, but Malin didn’t blame him. With a snap of his fingers, he used spiritual energy to transform the guard’s assault rifle into a blooming metal flower. The stunned man immediately dropped the now-sizzling weapon and bowed humbly to Malin.

Malin nodded in acknowledgment and, as he passed the guard, grabbed a few large-denomination paper notes from a pile and handed them over: "Go buy yourself some tea."

"Thank you, Your Excellency!"

Though Malin wasn’t sure how much tea the amount could buy, judging by the guard’s ecstatic expression, it was evidently quite satisfactory.

Walking into the Adventurers’ Guild, Malin cleared the way effortlessly with his spiritual energy. Everyone in his path, first scowling indignantly, turned submissive and bowed politely upon recognizing him.

"Sir, is there anything I can assist you with?" An elderly gentleman at the counter addressed Malin as he approached, pushing aside the younger attendant and taking his place at the desk with the most professional of smiles.

Malin posed his first question, "Is your Adventurers’ Guild interconnected?"

"Indeed, all adventurer rosters are networked throughout the guild. We exchange updated lists daily," the elder responded with a smile.

"Check for me if there’s someone named Mars listed here. No need to search by surname—Mars wouldn’t stoop so low as to adopt something like Gaiate or Haus as his family name. While those names may mean little among mortals, they’d certainly instill terror in any transcendent circles, scaring crying children silent in the night."

"As you wish, sir." The elder expertly navigated his computer while Malin, curious, jumped on the counter to get a closer look—a CRT monitor and a horizontally-laid computer tower, complete with a sturdy keyboard and old-style mouse, all of which looked distinctly Middle Ages in design.

"Is this the latest model?" Malin asked out of curiosity.

"Certainly not. Mumbai’s Adventurers’ Guild is still in its infancy, and even this desk was brought directly from headquarters," the elder explained as he pulled up several files.

"First candidate," he said, opening the first name—Mars Sayer.

A young white-skinned fellow appeared on the screen, and Malin promptly waved him off—he wasn’t even feline, let alone Mars, the little dork.

Smiling, the elder switched to the second name—Mars Golden Cake.

A dwarf who looked to be at least a century old.

Malin shook his head again, prompting the elder to move on to the next profile.

The third Mars... surname Mars.

Malin raised his brows, then stared at the photo showing a Thanan, briefly falling silent: "Not him either. Who else?"

"Currently, we..." The elder began, but was interrupted by a chime from the machine. He clicked open what seemed to be an inbox, displaying a new roster update on the monitor.

The first name on the list—Holmes Mars.

Malin’s sixth sense rang loudly. He gestured for the elder to open it.

And there he was—a boy who shared eight out of ten features with Malin, with messy short hair, the vertical pupils distinct to cat-hybrids, squared ears echoing Malin’s paternal lineage, a mouth flashing feline fangs, and the unmistakable traits of a cat-hybrid small breed.

Kid, don’t think I wouldn’t recognize you just because you’re using some Transcendent mimicry.

Malin smiled faintly.

"Sir, is he a relative of yours?" the elder asked.

Malin smiled back, not offering a direct answer nor denying anything either.

The elder, still smiling, moved to delete Holmes Mars’s information, but Malin stopped him.

"I just need to know these," Malin said, confirming the address left in the boy’s entry.

He also noted the alias the kid had given himself—"Divine Detective."

"Is there anything else you require?" The elder smiled with the kind of sincerity reserved for trustworthy professionals.

Malin nodded, "I wish to register."

"Your name, sir."

"Moriarty. Moriarty Svenson."

Using a pseudonym instead of his real name, the elder nodded and added Malin’s alias to the new roster.

He then turned the form around, letting Malin fill it out himself.

As the elder watched Malin’s elegant handwriting, his Sydneyan bloodline shone through with an astonished comment: "Your penmanship is exquisite. It’s been ages since I’ve seen such noble-style calligraphy."

"Well, you’ve seen it today, haven’t you?" Malin replied with a smile, finishing up his form using some outrageously fabricated personal details, before sliding it back to the elder.

"You haven’t filled in your alias yet, sir," the elder reminded him, pen poised and waiting for an answer.

From his perspective, it might seem eccentric for someone like Malin, so powerful and imposing, to leave something so personal unwritten.

In truth, Malin feared that if he wrote down his alias, the name might vanish on the spot.

"Professor. You may refer to me as Professor Moriarty," Malin replied with a halfway smirk, giving the elder his desired answer.