Steampunk Era: Mad Abield
Chapter 315 - 219: World of Conflict (Part 1)

Chapter 315: Chapter 219: World of Conflict (Part 1)

"I thought someone like you, a high-order lich, wouldn’t even pay attention to Prairie Elf threats," Donald said, standing in the middle of the street and smoking his cigarette, as he remarked to the lich before him.

"Even if I am legendary, I must hold at least a minimum level of respect for the Prairie Elves and their master. Otherwise, destruction and death will be the most pressing issues I have to face," Ails replied, taking the tobacco Donald offered. He lit it for himself, took a puff, and with a sigh amid the smoke, he reminisced, "Good stuff, reminds me of when I was still alive, young and watching the nobles smoke these, naively thinking perhaps this time they would leave me a cigarette butt."

"I never imagined you had your downfalls," Donald said in surprise—he had always remembered liches as the epitome of aloof nobility, and to see one as approachable as Ails was something he had never encountered in his many years.

"A lich is born in two ways: one is from the ashes regenerated on top of bones, losing everything from before, retaining only instinct; the other, like me, chose to become a lich while still alive... Hence, I still cling to the pleasures only the living can have—fine food, women, and even after another thousand years, I think they will remain my favorites."

"I envy you. In our world, people with Mage talents are few and far between. To become a Transcendent like a Mage, some even resort to drinking Magic Potions," Donald lamented because he was someone without Spell Talent and could only become a shadow assassin. He had fallen once but eventually reclaimed himself. However, the time he served Chaos had inflicted indelible harm on him.

"Magic Potion, I have heard of it. It’s not something unique to your world of Abield but truth be told, the development of Magic Potions there is still quite primitive, my friend. To drink Magic Potion and become a Mage, it’s no different from committing suicide by poisoning. Such artificially induced Mages can only obtain Spiritual Energy through chemicals and rely on various casting materials to communicate with the void. If they’re unlucky enough to encounter Chaos, who eats whom is a very real question," Ails continued, taking another puff of his cigarette before looking at Donald, "I feel that the old fellow is overly concerned with that kid from your world. So, out of goodwill as a regular customer, I personally advise you to stay far away from that kid. I’m experienced and understand those pointy ears better than you—they are harmless to anyone who doesn’t impede their path of righteousness. But if you become a rock that must be moved, then you’re as good as dead."

"Thank you, I understand."

"You’re the first to thank me after I became a lich, how interesting... Well, little brother, I’ll take my leave," the lich said, turning and walking away into the distance.

"Goodbye."

"Yes, goodbye. I hope to see you in the shop next time."

Watching the lich depart, Donald finished his last bit of tobacco and turned to enter the shop, where the old man was still there. He sat down at the table: "About that kid named Malin, I have some information, if you’d like to know."

"Why wouldn’t I," said the old man drinking tea, setting down his cup as he looked at Donald, "I’m someone who likes an equivalent exchange. What do you want to know."

"I want to know what you gave Ails that makes him work so loyally for you."

"Then you go first," he replied.

"Of course." Donald cleared his throat and then looked at the old man, "Someone wants to kill Malin, from some young Nobles in the Capital of Abield’s Sydney Union. I can provide the name of the organizer. He has accomplices, but I don’t know how many people are involved."

"That’s quite interesting information. We have a deal," said the old Hunter, taking another sip of tea before revealing the answer to Donald’s query: "A half-divine crystal of a lich from the Orderly Neutral alignment."

Damn, you old man, spiking sugar with poison!

Donald rolled his eyes—Ails was obviously a lich of Chaotic Neutral alignment. Giving him this object seemed like a shortcut to demi-godhood, but to assimilate the crystal, Ails would have to change his alignment, or it was a dead end road.

The old Hunter seemed to sense the little secrets in Donald’s mind and smiled at him, "Mr. Donald, I trust you’re a man of your word, aren’t you?"

"Of course, you can count on me." Although they were friends, under such circumstances, Donald had no choice but to prioritize his own life.

"You need not worry, though. Even though Mr. Ails is addicted to the pleasure of gaining power, I trust he is not a lowly lich that merely craves strength. If he slowly absorbs the power from the crystal, it won’t affect his mind," the old Hunter explained.

This explanation took Donald by surprise, and he looked at the old Hunter, "Aren’t you worried that once he becomes strong, he might become a threat to you?"

"I have more crystals here," the old man said, taking out a bag, untying its mouth, and through the opening, Donald saw many white crystals.

"Young man, since you’re willing to share your secret with me, I have a potion here that can resolve the Chaotic Energy in your body. Although it will lower your strength, you’ll no longer need to fear the holy Spiritual Energy. What do you say, are you willing to take such a risk?" The old Hunter took out a bottle of emerald-green potion from his pocket, placing it on the table, then sliding it towards Donald.

Looking at the potion, Donald felt every cell in his body roaring wildly, urging him to stay away from the potion. But ultimately, Donald reached out, grabbed the bottle, put it to his mouth, and then bit down on the bottle, shattering it.

As he was being scorched by the holy energy, Donald laughed.

It was a potion made from the acorns of the World Tree, how wonderful.

I never thought... I would have a day of redemption.

Praise the gods!

.............

Yesterday, I strolled around The Capital with Logan and his cousin Cohen. I have to admit, in order to stall for time, this son of an Earl really went to great lengths. Considering how easily he spent money and how much fun Logan had, I saw no reason not to go along with them.

So, when we finished our day’s itinerary, I mentioned that the next day I needed to accompany my own girl to the combat arena to watch their training battles. I couldn’t join the two of them in their fun, and I noticed that he nearly cried out.

Of course, he must have been crying tears of joy for his wallet. What a pitiful child, such a sad existence without financial freedom.

With such thoughts in mind, I entered the huge Combat Arena—this is the largest building within Sidney Union, accommodating at least thirty-two thousand people. The exterior was adorned with a large amount of stone, making it seem like a product of this age. But once inside, I found that beneath the wooden floors of the corridors were pure metal floors. It seemed that later renovations had changed the face of this place. When I let Fio and Lorrin touch the floor, based on their feedback, I realized this must be an ancient building from the First Era, with a basement that appears to be sealed off.

Thinking about it, thirty-two thousand people is about a tenth of The Capital’s population.

The Church of the Goddess of Harvest and the Church of the Goddess of the Night had their respective practice matches on the eastern and western sides of the arena today. Some members of the Mage Tower in charge of maintaining order came over to question me. After I showed them the coach member ID of the Church of the Goddess of Harvest, they even specifically checked with the local Bishop of the Church of the Goddess of Harvest. After confirming my identity several times, they signaled for me to head east—coach members are not allowed to observe practice matches at other churches’ arenas.

So, I went to the east side and found that the seniors, a combined group of seventh and eighth graders, were having a spirited match on stage. The young ones below watched excitedly while I sat in the coach’s seat, drowsy.

All the ones on stage were strangers to me, and I felt I had nothing to do. I thought that if I fell asleep like this, someone might take issue, but until the seniors from over a dozen districts finished their matches, no one bothered me. They even occasionally pointed and gesticulated at me.

Perhaps the church’s internal communication was quite efficient, as I ultimately did not manage to wait for a dragon-slaying hero. I had to perk up and get ready for the middle-grade group’s matches—Jessica was in this group.

Then a young man in the robe of the Church of the Goddess of the Night approached me, "I saw you yawning just now, right?"

"Yes, aren’t you wearing the robe of the Church of the Goddess of the Night? How can you come over here?" I asked, somewhat puzzled.

"I’m in the senior apprentice group. Your seniors’ matches just ended, so I can come over here. I want to tell you that with your attitude, you don’t qualify to be a coach. You really are an embarrassment. Are you here just to pad your resume?" The young man looked at me with disgust, "I challenge you to a duel, you waste of space!"

After saying this, he threw down his glove.

I caught the glove and first glanced at Instructor Ails, who smiled and nodded.

So, I turned to look at the coaches of the Church of the Goddess of the Night and found that they seemed rather amused, apparently enjoying the drama without worrying about the consequences.

Then I stood up, stretched my muscles, and looked at the young man, "How shall we fight?"

"Barehanded, I am a Martial Monk!" he declared, ripping off his robe to reveal the solid muscles worthy of a bodybuilding champion.

I nodded, for I was wearing only a simple shirt and did not need to tear off my clothes. I just took off my jacket and gestured for him to attack.

Without another word, the Martial Monk spun and delivered a whip kick towards my head.

I didn’t dodge, but simply used my right hand to block his whip kick. As his lower leg twisted and deformed due to improper force, I pushed with both hands. The young man flew across the middle line and landed right in front of the coaches.

Then I sat down again.

Remember, adults should not stoop to a child’s level.

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