Steampunk Era: Mad Abield
Chapter 240: Section 177: Your Name (Part Three)_3

Chapter 240: Section 177: Your Name (Part Three)_3

The definition of a human... Little Nagen had seen it in a book, that is, a heart that beats, a free soul, not bound by evil, nor deceived by Chaos.

Watching the refugees walk out from their tent-surrounded camp in the distance, and seeing the bags in their hands, Little Nagen descended from the ruins and hastened onto the avenue. He had to inform the sisters in the organization, so they could tell Lord Malin.

He always said, "The world doesn’t need unearned beauty, because that’s just the favorite trick of Chaos when it deceives Mortals."

Passing through the intersection, similar children approached him, "How’s it going?"

"We have a problem," Nagen nodded. The two youngsters stopped in their tracks as a carriage approached. An upper class apprentice of the Church greeted them from atop, "Do you need a ride, little ones?"

"No, thank you," Nagen smiled and shook his head, while tugging at his companion’s sleeve.

The other was confused and turned to look at Nagen.

Foolish, my friend, when have you ever seen a Noble’s carriage traverse the Western District?

Nagen smiled while imperceptibly stepping back, then turned and ran, "Run!" he yelled loudly.

His companion froze for a moment, then was pierced through the chest by tentacles that emerged from the void.

In Nagen’s gaze, a cloaked figure, concealing its appearance, materialized behind his friend, "Catch him."

The apprentice from the carriage jumped down and began to chase him. Watching the apprentice clawing his way forward with hands and feet, Nagen reached into the inner pocket of his small vest and crushed the thin wooden board containing the Acceleration Spell Formation.

Although he hadn’t been reading for long, Nagen understood that everything he saw was an illusion; the senior apprentice was fake because the real ones would never let the mud of the Western District’s alley soil their hands; and that human form was fake, for the true Lord would never kill his own Church’s apprentices.

Don’t be afraid, for that is the poison of the mind.

Reciting Lord Malin’s teachings in his heart, Nagen slapped himself with a Stamina Enhancement Spell Formation. A first-tier spell that would increase his endurance, allowing him to run further, more steadily, and not die in this alley from exhaustion.

As the apprentice closed in behind him, Nagen occasionally pushed over the piled-up rubbish in the alley to hinder the chase, while also noticing the exit ahead.

Pulling out the Mire Scroll from his pocket, Nagen turned the ground in front of the alley into real mire, then activated the Spider Walk Technique—Lord Malin had prepared this for all the young apprentices. Although the upper class apprentices thought it occupied a valuable Sequence slot, for children like Nagen, it was a life-saving Sequence, the foundation of their strength.

He leaped up, walking and running on the walls, and eventually, as his senior apprentice also jumped, he leaped to the opposite wall. The senior apprentice, having lost his target, fell fruitlessly and plunged into the mire.

Bursting out of the alley, Nagen jumped over the back of the carriage and, amid the curses of the coachman, ran along the wall to the rooftop.

Drawing the signal flare from his waist, he pointed it towards the sky and pulled the trigger.

......

A well-fed Colin was chatting with Mischael about Malin, and after hearing that he had also invested money and support in the production of certain Alchemical Potions, Colin had a much more favorable view of this peer; after all, this was tangible production, unlike the financial services of making money with money, which after all were not quite proper.

As they were talking, Colin and Mischael heard a scream of surprise from a girl behind them.

They turned to see a red firework bursting in the distance in the west.

"It’s not even fully dark yet, what’s with the fireworks now?" the butler mused curiously.

"I don’t know, but it’s not even pretty," Shela remarked.

And Mischael glanced at Colin, "It seems to be our Church’s emergency signal flare."

"Red, that’s what Malin gave to those kids; one of them must be in trouble," Colin stood up, "I apologize, Mr. Mischael, but it looks like I must go and see what’s happening."

"Do go, Mr. Colin, and Mr. Camilla; if my legs were fine, I’d accompany you both," Mischael gestured for them to leave quickly.

......

Malin, riding his horse around the corner, saw the open streets ahead. He was about to speed up when he saw the distant firework.

The red, which he had provided for the children.

Before him lay a three-way intersection, heading west would take him to the Western District gate, and to the south, the direction of the town hall.

Glancing towards the town hall, Malin ultimately chose west—the town hall had his own mentor, which likely meant no trouble there; but in the Western District, only first-year apprentices were present. If they were able to use the signal flare alive, it was already their greatest fortune. Malin could not let the little ones face danger alone.

He had to go over.

With that thought, Malin spurred his horse, dashing through the streets. At the city gate, he yelled at the somewhat puzzled City Guards to close the gates, then rushed in.

From the location where the signal had gone up, right behind the gate and not too far off, for safety, closing the gates of this area was the right choice—even a false alarm was okay, but who could guarantee the absence of a true emergency.

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