Steampunk Era: Mad Abield
Chapter 1058: Section 668: Sharp Turn (3)_2

Chapter 1058: Section 668: Sharp Turn (3)_2

"By the way, I haven’t introduced myself yet. My name is Lynn, Lynn Valter. My paternal lineage is of Westland origin, but according to our family records, our family has lived in the Eastern human world since before the Great Devastation." The woman approached and introduced herself to Malin: "What’s your name, young sir?"

"Malin." Malin answered with a smile, completely unconcerned about how this girl and her soldiers might have imagined his name to mean he was born of a Thainan father and a Westland mother.

After all, humans only place absolute trust in beliefs they hold with unwavering certainty.

Besides, Malin’s name really is Malin, isn’t it?

......

When Malin followed these soldiers onto the bridge, it was already on the verge of falling. The Bleeders were launching a fierce assault on the bridge, and several human warriors were desperately holding the line. Malin heard someone screaming on the bridge to bring explosives and blow it up.

Now Malin couldn’t delay any longer. He turned and blessed the hundreds of men and boys gathered, opened a pathway, and rushed to stop the sappers under the bridge.

As he stepped out, Malin dodged a thrust from a Xiuchun Knife and kicked a Gnome wielding an armor-piercing spike into the water—though the Gnome was secured by a safety rope, ensuring he wouldn’t actually submerge.

The youth wielding the Xiuchun Knife was trapped, unable to move, flanked by two magic swords on either side. Malin grabbed the already lit dynamite, opened a random coordinate rift, and tossed it through.

Then, carrying the two magic swords, he walked back to the bridge: "Don’t just sit there like fools; go pull your friend up. If you’re quick, as participating fighters, I might even spare a few Bleeder heads for you."

With that said, Malin ignored the two youngsters entirely, climbed back onto the bridge, and delivered a kick that sent the burly man cursing him for ruining the dynamite flying. Leaping forward, Malin plunged into the crowd of Bleeders; the whirlwind slash from his Giant bloodline cleared a swath of enemies instantly. His battle roar echoed, and the Bleeders on the other side were forced off the bridge.

A Flesh Hound with three heads leaped from behind. Before it landed, two of its heads were skewered by the magic swords on either side. Malin, grasping the beast’s upper jaw with both hands and stomping its lower jaw, tore the foul creature’s mouth apart. As the Hound howled in agony, a Mana-transformed spear appeared in Malin’s hands, which he used to pin the middle head to the bridge deck the next second.

The Flesh Hounds charging forward began spontaneously combusting under Malin’s gaze, howling as they jumped and eventually leaped off the bridge.

A Thainan youth risked his life to run to Malin’s side: "Legendary Lord! Young foreign sir, can you understand my words?!"

"Yes, I understand. Behind the enemy are your comrades! Follow me and fight through!" Malin said, pulling two longswords from the beast’s heads as the Frost Giant’s war cry blessed the human soldiers. In the next moment, these burly fighters, seemingly bursting with newfound strength, launched forward like catapults, slamming into the Bleeder ranks disrupted by Malin’s war cry. Although they wielded short axes and blades, their coordinated shield formations proved effective. Malin even noted that the wooden shields they used could withstand magic swords—no wonder these fighters adamantly refused metal shields.

That wood really is fascinating.

As Malin tucked the shield’s peculiarities away in his mind, he noticed the burly man he had kicked earlier staggering toward him, clutching his belly: "Young sir, I was wrong to blame you earlier."

His words were heartfelt, almost as if he were about to fall to his knees and beg forgiveness.

"It’s fine. You took my kick; let’s call it even." Malin didn’t want to dwell on idle talk. After all, he knew the big guy meant no harm—men willing to risk their lives to blow up bridges in such times were admirable.

Thinking this, Malin casually severed the three-headed Flesh Hound’s heads, kicking the middle one to the burly man: "Killed by me, take it as a gift."

Then, spotting the two hapless individuals climbing back up the bridge, Malin tossed the other two heads to them, one on each side: "These are yours."

The human youth caught the dog’s head, but the Gnome avoided the rolling head, stretched out to grab it, and Malin watched as he screamed, dragged off the bridge by the head. Thankfully, Malin reacted quickly, raising his hand to lift the struggling Gnome and his trophy back onto the bridge. The startled Gnome slapped his chest and looked at Malin: "Young sir, would you really gift such a precious trophy to someone like me?"

"Yes, you stabbed me earlier, I kicked you down the river—call it even. Now it’s time to reward your courage." Unlike the bridge’s warriors, the sappers who lit the explosives wouldn’t escape alive. Malin trusted the bridge’s soldiers would never retreat to prevent Chaos from crossing. Thus, these Thainan soldiers had earned Malin’s approval with their bravery and fearlessness.

"Thank you, Lord!" The Gnome smiled joyfully, but as he smiled, he began crying. He dropped to the deck and wept, even as the front-line warriors regrouped.

He began speaking of his family, who were all in the northern part of the city.

The Gnome’s sapper companion sat beside him, comforting him for a while before he too started crying—the young man’s two brothers had been stationed on the northern city walls during the siege. Their unit was the first to be sent to defend the bridge, but his brothers’ unit hadn’t been pulled back.

And so he cried too.

Malin didn’t know how to console the two young men until he noticed the burly man’s reddened eyes. Strongly composed despite his heartbreak, the man noticed Malin’s gaze and forced a smile.

Malin offered him a cigarette, earning his gratitude. The burly soldier lit the cigarette and walked to the rear, where the bodies of countless fallen warriors lay. One by one, he knelt and wiped the last vestiges of regret from the faces of the young men.

Finally, clutching a boy who bore a striking resemblance to himself, he broke down wailing.

Malin lit a cigarette for himself and handed the cigarette box to Mana, who passed them to the surviving soldiers.

A daring young soldier approached Malin to thank the Legendary Lord before noticing the crying Gnome on the bridge. Pausing briefly, he returned to his unit.

Soon, he led several other Gnomes over, among them an elderly woman who called out the Gnome’s name. The Gnome tilted his tear-streaked face upward, and with a sob, buried himself at her feet.

"You’re from Unit 224; have you seen Zhang Mingxing and Zhang Mingjun?" The young sapper noticed the soldier’s unit insignia and stood up.

"Yes, do you know them?" The young soldier seemed puzzled but turned and shouted: "Mingxing! Mingjun! Someone’s looking for you!"

Malin then saw two men, deeply resembling the young sapper, walking over.

The sapper was overjoyed and rushed to his brothers, who held him tightly in their arms.

Malin sighed—Fate may be merciless, yet at times it reveals a glimmer of kindness.

With that thought, Malin noticed a giant eagle descending. A Sage’s disciple, who had briefly met Malin earlier, leapt from the bridge and walked over upon spotting him.

"Greetings, Lord. It’s truly great to see you here. I’ve just received news: our army is only twenty nautical miles from the harbor; the two Lords will arrive soon."

"That’s excellent news." Malin nodded, offering the young man a cigarette. The latter caught it, lighting it with ease: "Good smoke, thank you, young sir."

"Cheers to all the unyielding souls in this city."

"The enemy is approaching!" A scout rushed over from the other side of the bridge.

"What are you waiting for?! Form ranks! We hold this bridge!" The burly man, who had somehow regained his composure, stood beside Malin.

Soldiers like this were Malin’s favorite—they were brave, loyal, and fearless. Among all commanders in the world, who wouldn’t treasure such warriors?

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