Steampunk Era: Mad Abield
Chapter 156: One Hundred Nineteen: Not a Blade of Grass Left_3

Chapter 156: One Hundred Nineteen: Not a Blade of Grass Left_3

"If that’s the case, then that’s for the best," the gaunt old man nodded, then he slowed down his pace, "Madam, from here on you’ll proceed alone. Please be careful."

"Don’t worry, this place is like our home," Susan turned and smiled at the old man, then she turned again and walked deeper into the sewer.

The old man watched her leave, then turned and walked towards the exit, the walking stick held behind him tapping rhythmically against the pipes on the wall.

Walking up the steps, a burly man reached out and helped the old man, "Mr. Ter, you seem very happy."

"Yes, it’s a great ritual, we are summoning a great deity, and just thinking that I could participate in it during my lifetime, really makes me excited to the point of trembling." The old man finished speaking, walked to the side, and sat down, "I will guard here, nobody is allowed to leave."

"But I need to use the restroom." The big man and his companion said simultaneously.

"...Stupid donkeys, go together, and keep an eye on each other!"

So, two big men left the room and went into the restroom together.

One stood on one side of the partition, and the other stood on the other side.

Both men undid their pouches and took out a piece of paper and a stone that they had prepared earlier, one threw it out the window, the other stuffed it through a hole in the wall.

Having dealt with everything, the two men stepped out of the stall, exchanged knowing smiles, and then left the stinking place together.

......

The gnome sitting in the alley caught the stone and paper in his lap, threw the stone at a rat by the roadside, and stuffed the paper into a message cylinder on the leg of a pigeon on his shoulder, then quickly let it fly.

Then he stood up and started to pack up his book stall.

At that moment, a half-human came out of the alley, a cat ran past his feet, through the gnome’s stall, and then out of the alley.

The gnome glanced at the rat knocked unconscious by the stone and then at the direction where the cat had disappeared.

He scratched his face, thinking whether there were cats that didn’t eat rats these days?

But what does it matter? His job was done.

"Brother, not doing business today?" The half-human walked past him, asking curiously.

"Yeah, little brother, you’re out polishing shoes at this time today?" The gnome glanced at him, equally curious.

"Life always needs to get better through our own hands," the half-human replied with a smile, "Today, I’m planning to go to the Central District to find opportunities, how about you?"

"I feel the same way, business isn’t good here, maybe I should go to the Western District," the gnome answered while packing books into a box.

He lifted the box and the folded table, "Shall we walk together?"

"Sure."

Just after speaking, a patrol officer appeared at the entrance of the alley. He saw the half-human and the gnome, "Hey! What are you guys up to?!"

Without any verbal exchange or hand gestures, the gnome and the half-human turned and fled headlong.

The patrol officer snorted, didn’t chase after them, and just laughed with his colleague, "Don’t they know the City Lord specifically issued an order allowing freelancers to set up stalls in districts other than the Central District for the coming month?"

"Who knows, maybe it’s a conditioned reflex."

"What?"

"Conditioned reflex. Their first reaction when they see us is to run."

"...That’s a good point, where did you learn that?"

"My kid’s teacher taught it."

At this point, the two patrol officers furrowed their brows, as the odor in the alley was unpleasant, and they had no choice but to step back.

......

Carter had just finished reading the serialized story in the newspaper when he heard the sound of his door being knocked. He frowned and walked over to open it.

He saw a small boy, dressed in a newsboy’s outfit—a grey short-sleeved shirt, its collar washed white; brown overalls that were too big and cuffed at the bottom, one strap sliding off the shoulder.

The boy had a large satchel on his back, with the corners of some newspapers sticking out: "Is this Yudam’s place? I’m the newspaper boy from the Daily Pamir. Mr. Vince said he wanted to subscribe to the newspaper. I’m here to deliver the contract."

"Don’t you know how to pull this string?" Carter asked, curious.

"What’s this?" The boy looked puzzled.

Carter was taken aback—well, it was indeed his mistake. The child was clearly illiterate; he didn’t recognize the words by the door or the meaning of this string.

So he backed away—it was his father’s favorite blood meal. He could stop himself, but he could not betray his family.

"Ah, is it the newsboy?" His mother’s voice came from behind, and as Carter made way for the boy to come in, he glanced back at his mother.

He saw his mother’s smile change to confusion, then progress to fear and dread.

At the same time, he heard the sound of the firing pin striking the cartridge.

Then gunshots rang out, and Carter, losing his balance, fell towards the door, while in his field of vision, the oversized soles of the boy’s boots were rapidly enlarging.

In the instant the nail penetrated flesh, Carter began to wail—the nails were laced with silver!

......

As a mother, Nofar watched as the boy stepped on her son’s face while holding the revolver in her fiery grip.

The experience of living long enough had made Nofar cancel the Illusion Technique and cast the Stone Skin Spell on herself immediately, but the gun was too big, and the bullet still pierced through her knee. The silence spell also forced the Spell Formation she was about to cast back into her mouth.

It was a silver-laced bullet!

The pain in her leg was nothing compared to the anguish in the mother’s heart. She struggled to lift herself, just in time to see the small boy lash out at her eldest son with a stick and her son’s convulsions and screams.

Yes, it was the Proxy of Nameless!

She immediately recalled the significance of the branch in her mind.

These devils! They came hunting!

Why! Why! These devils! They had fled to this world, so why were there still people hunting them down?

Crimson tears rolled from her eyes.

Nofar fell to the ground, until someone drove a silver-laced nail into her back. In agonizing pain, she was dragged out of the house.

Thrown onto the street, Nofar saw her eldest son, lifelessly lying there, his intermittent convulsions signifying that he was still alive.

And an old man came before Nofar: "Madam, hello, I am Constance, the Bishop of the Goddess of Harvest Church in Pamir. I have a question to ask you about your second child, Kata."

"Kata! What have you done to him!" Nofar’s eyes widened.

"That depends on you, madam. If you don’t cooperate with my interrogation, then I can only take him as the most precious specimen for the trophy room... just like you did in the Trafalian Kingdom." The old man crouched down, his expression sincere.

Nofar glanced at her eldest son: "I’ll tell you everything, but you must swear to keep my children safe, to let them leave alive," she said.

"No problem, I have many questions to ask you, madam." The old man smiled as he sat down on a stone chair that had risen from the ground: "Now, who will help this lady up."