Steampunk Era: Mad Abield
Chapter 245: Section 181: Intertwined Fate (Part Three)

Chapter 245: Section 181: Intertwined Fate (Part Three)

There were no Chaos believers pouring out of the campsite as Malin had imagined. Instead, he, along with the armed citizens and the Punishers of the Church of the War God, walked into the campsite only to find it deserted. Tracking down the Chaos cultists proved to be a troublesome task, as the Church had mobilized their entire families except those not skilled in combat, including trackers. The citizens of Carterburg, though honest and simple, were hard-pressed to immediately find a hidden entrance in a large campsite that housed hundreds, if not thousands of people.

So, after walking around the campsite twice, Malin realized he had come up empty-handed—he could sense traces of Chaos, but as he had mentioned before, there were too many people around, and the scent of Chaos was everywhere. It was impossible for Malin to pinpoint the exact location where these scents were coming from.

"Looks like the Chaos cultists got away, I thought we were in for a tough battle," the veteran said with a tinge of disappointment, but Malin could feel the sense of relief deep in his heart. It made sense; to have lived to such a ripe old age as a soldier, he clearly had no intention of dying at this age with any regrets.

In Malin’s view, dying from the last bullet on the last day of a war would be the most foolish way to go.

There was nothing more foolish.

"Tell everyone not to mess with things, dying from a booby trap or something of the sort over some trash is just too stupid," Malin said as he kicked a kid away from a tent he was about to enter. The kid turned around with an angry glare, but upon recognizing Malin, his face broke into a wide grin, "Your Excellency is absolutely right."

In the previous battle, Malin had led the charge with his huge axe, witnessed by almost all the citizens.

Malin nodded at him and tossed him a green badge—it was a pick-up token at a food processing plant, which could be used to collect a can of pickled offal. Although it was just scraps, the strong flavor was a hit, and customers from Carterburg and all over the Union praised the taste.

It so happened that Malin was planning to collaborate with Clovis to produce a very cheap type of glass—unlike the glassware used for experiments, this glass just needed to be translucent. It would be used to replace the metal cans for storing third-rate meats and pickled offal.

"Thank you, Your Excellency!" The boy was thrilled, the epitome of a stereotypical Carterburg countryman.

"Today, every person who took part in the battle will receive a can of pickled offal, free of charge!" With the pickled offal being inexpensive and plentiful, Malin didn’t mind using it to curry favor. What’s more, he could later request a tax refund from the city hall, a clear policy to those in the Church of the God of Commerce—no need for Malin to say anything.

The citizens were of course delighted, but Malin also didn’t forget the members of the Church. Considering the War God Church’s courage in valuing life and death so lightly, Malin planned to give away some first-rate canned goods to the Apprentices to improve their diet.

As for wanting more after tasting it, that would have to be bought with money.

"Lord Malin! We’ve found an underground passage!" Just as Malin was idly musing, an exciting piece of news arrived, leading him to rush over and see the passage being pried open. "Who found it?"

"Your Excellency, it was this child. He has a natural ability to detect these subterranean voids," one of the citizens pointed to a child standing nearby. Malin waved the boy over, "Come here, lad, what’s your name?"

This young boy with a runny nose approached, looking somewhat nervous, scared, and hopeful, "Your Excellency, my name is Cain. My father and I came to Carterburg from Const County in the Rodham Kingdom."

"Where are your father and mother?" Malin glanced at the boy, noticing he appeared to be alone.

"They work in your factory, Your Excellency," the child replied before sniffling, and as Malin watched the disgusting, sizable strand disappear into the little chap’s nostril, he patted the boy’s head, "Well done, kid. Do you have a faith?"

"No, but both of my parents believe in the Church of the Goddess of Harvest," the boy answered, causing Malin to raise an eyebrow. He turned to the old Bishop, "You see, this child is fated with the Goddess. I’ll take him away." Generally, whatever Church the child’s parents followed had the first right to test the child for spell affinities and abilities. The old Bishop had no objections—in fact, he had no other opinions as long as Malin was present.

After saying that, Malin turned back, "Cain, for discovering this entrance, I shall reward you." He pulled a five-gold coin from his pocket and tossed it into the child’s embrace, "Consider this pocket money, to be received every week until you come of age."

"Thank you, Your Excellency!" The child was overjoyed—five gold pieces were a fortune to a refugee child, and Malin could not risk giving him a large denomination of paper money, as he couldn’t wager the child’s whole family’s life on the conscience of the Western District’s populace.

"By the way, considering your talent, I can arrange a Spell Formation test for you." As Malin spoke, he noticed the child’s stupefied expression and the coin falling to the ground, "What’s the matter?"

"No, no need, Your Excellency, we don’t have the money..." the child said with a look of fear.

Malin was puzzled, but the veteran by his side chuckled and explained, "Your Excellency, the Rodham Kingdom is to the north, a very conservative kingdom. There, having money is the most important thing for a child to become an Apprentice, as the Northern Churches never conduct spell tests for free for children of poor families."

"I see, don’t worry, over here, it’s free," Malin said with a smile. Once the child had picked up the coin, Malin continued, "Don’t even think about running away. Remember, if you don’t come to the Church of the Goddess of Harvest to see me within three days, I’ll have your parents kicked out of my factory."

"Your Excellency, I promise to come, please don’t kick my parents out!" The boy hurriedly swore.

Malin patted the child’s head and thought for a moment, "Never mind, you’ll just follow me today. If you see his parents, tell them he’s with me."

"No problem, Your Excellency!" The big man who had introduced the child to Malin grinned and said, "I’ll tell his father and mother that their child is really lucky."

Turning his head, Malin snapped his fingers in front of the child and walked with him out of the camp, "Everyone, scatter!"

"Thank you, Your Excellency!"

It was clear that everyone had been notified about receiving one can each, and the citizens all expressed their gratitude to Malin, who waved back at them.

Later, Malin thought, how nice it would have been if things could have been resolved like this. There was no need for the citizens to risk their lives following him into battle. Battles were not dinner parties; they involved death.

"Thank you, Mr. Malin!" An old man with a hunched back said to Malin, approaching him as he spoke.

Malin was taken aback for a moment and smiled awkwardly, "No, thanks to all of you," thinking to himself why this frail figure was adding to the commotion.

While thinking, Malin felt as if an evil intention was watching him. He looked around and even glanced behind, seeing Bishop with a similarly puzzled look on his face.

Malin took another look at the old man and noticed that he was slowly yet firmly approaching him. After thinking for a moment, Malin activated his detection ability.

The old man before him turned a deep shade of red and purple in an instant.

Malin sighed and drew his revolver from his waist, pointing it at the old man, "Stop."

In the next second, a gunshot was heard from behind, and the elderly man who had suddenly attacked screamed and fell to the ground.

Malin turned around and saw Bishop blowing the smoke from the barrel of his revolver, "Wait a second, how come a Bishop of the Church of the War God is using one of these things?"

In Malin’s memory, the so-called War God was synonymous with strong men using cold weapons. For them, using a gun would seem like a profoundly inept act.

"Times have changed, Malin," the old man said, holstering his gun. His Punishers had already pounced and subdued the old man even before he had finished speaking.

At this point, Malin realized the old man was not old at all. After wiping away the powder and grime from his face, he looked to be just a standard middle-aged man. However, his acting skills were impressive; Malin had been deceived at first glance. Coupled with the makeup, if Malin hadn’t been able to sense the situation and use detection to confirm the target, he might have fallen for his trick.

Nevertheless, at this juncture, the man was nothing more than prey for the Punishers, so Malin turned to Bishop, "I’ll leave this guy to you then. I suppose he’s a Chaotic Believer."

As they spoke, the Punishers found a sawed-off, loaded revolver on the man, "The barrel’s been cut down, and to hit Mr. Malin, he even decided to make a close-range assassination attempt; he’s truly a madman."

"There’s no need for you to wonder now, he is a Chaotic Believer. Take him back to the Church, and I’ll make sure he starts talking today," Bishop said, turning to Malin, "I personally suggest you leave quickly."

"... Alright then." Just after Malin had spoken, he felt a tickle in his nose and bent down to sneeze.

At the same time, he heard a gunshot.

Malin turned around only to see an unlucky fellow standing behind him now lying in a pool of blood.

Without needing to think, Malin quickly ran to the bottom of the wall on the south side of the street—he had just been on the north side, and the direction the unlucky victim had fallen was northwest, which meant the bullet had come from afar in the south—if the gun was in the north, it wouldn’t have been able to see him at all.

Then it occurred to Malin—all of this was what they called luck?