Steampunk Era: Mad Abield
Chapter 241: Section 177: Your Name (Part Three)_4

Chapter 241: Section 177: Your Name (Part Three)_4

"Why has the city gate been closed!" The carriage driver asked Malin.

"Find a place to hide!" Malin replied as he controlled his horse to gallop past.

Stopping the horse below the signal, Malin dismounted and looked around, finally fixing his gaze on a small alley by the street. "Who’s there?" In the darkness, Malin detected the fluctuation of life that only the living possessed; it was fearful, it was anxious, it even dared not come out.

Hearing a sound from behind, Malin turned his head and saw a Drownghoul squirming out of an alley that resembled a mud pit.

Extracting an axe from his bag, Malin skewered it with a World Tree Sapling and tossed it onto the ground: "Kill that spirit."

The combination of Blood Roar and the World Tree Sapling sprouted multiple feet, swiftly charging at the Drownghoul and then cutting it in two with an axe.

The bisected Drownghoul hadn’t died, but in the next second, Blood Roar split its head open.

At that moment, the fluctuation from the alley informed Malin that it was no longer afraid, so he saw a first year Apprentice named Nagen step out from within.

"It’s Sir Malin!" he exclaimed.

"It’s me," Malin nodded, glancing at the Drownghoul. "What’s going on? Was it chasing you?"

Nagen explained everything in detail, and Malin felt his scalp tingle. He turned and whistled. His war horse trotted over. "Come! Get on the horse!" Malin reached out to lift the boy onto the war horse before jumping on himself. "We’re heading back to the Church..." If it had been just a few Drownghouls, Malin felt he could have handled them by himself.

But evidently, the situation had already gone beyond what Malin could control. Charging in alone with unknown enemies was equivalent to suicide.

Thinking this, Malin’s war horse also slowed down. Looking at the citizens stepping out onto the street blocks, some had recognized Malin. They made awkward gestures of etiquette, some saluted him, while others approached. "Sir Malin, what’s happening?"

Malin eventually dismounted his war horse. He patted Nagen on the leg. "It’s okay if you can’t ride, I’ve told it to take you to the Church." After speaking, Malin patted the war horse, which, having been granted sentience through a Spell Formation, calmly turned around and left.

"Sir! Why are you staying behind?" Nagen turned and shouted at Malin.

"Nothing much," Malin smiled, then turned to look at the civilians. "We’re having a little trouble. Do any of you have weapons at home?"

"I have a hunting shotgun my father left me," someone said.

"I only have a hunting knife," another answered.

"We have a hunting shotgun at home, a double-barreled one!" someone else told Malin.

"Sir! What kind of trouble?" an older man asked as he brought out a machete from his house.

"If it’s trouble for you, Sir, then it’s trouble for us too!" a young man leaning on a windowsill shouted.

"...Alright then," Malin walked over to the Drownghoul, decapitated it, and then lifted its head, addressing the crowd. "A young Apprentice was attacked by this spirit! He said there might be many more, of this kind or others... Are you afraid?"

"Drownghouls are troublesome, but they can be killed. A team with polearms can hold them down for good," an old veteran with a disability declared, "We’ve got plenty of poles at home; they’re for hanging clothes. Maybe building street barricades isn’t a bad idea, Sir."

Some citizens ran home to fetch poles, and even more began moving out furniture.

The people of Carterburg are simple and honest, indeed.

Malin thought this with satisfaction, watching as he loudly gave orders to the citizens. "Alright then... Citizens! Arm yourselves! Gather and protect the children! We start building street barricades!"

Malin couldn’t bear to watch the perilous camp exist unchecked. If Nagen had escaped, they would certainly not sit idly by. It was possible they would launch their conspiracy early, and if Malin didn’t stay to arm the citizens of the Western District... who knows how many would die.

The education Malin had received didn’t allow him to ignore such a situation unfolding.

Trouble always comes uninvited, but as human beings, we mustn’t let trouble always have its way.

With this in mind, Malin glanced at the old veteran, "What’s your name?"

"A citizen, Sir," the veteran grinned, "Salute to you, Sir."

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