Steampunk Era: Mad Abield
Chapter 366 - 248: Maya (Part 3)

Chapter 366: Chapter 248: Maya (Part 3)

Malin took his seat and watched as the leading mentor of his team stepped forward to negotiate with the mentor from the Church of the War God. He couldn’t help but glance at the swollen-faced mentor Emet Selk beside him.

The latter, belatedly aware, looked at Malin with a trace of confusion on his face, "Why do you keep looking at me?"

"I’m thinking, if it comes to a mentor’s battle later, should you go up or should I?" Malin said to Emet Selk as he watched the two leading mentors on the verge of confrontation.

Emet Selk fell silent for a moment, sighed and asked, "Just how much do you know?"

Malin crossed his legs and looked up at the two mentors, "One dead, two seriously injured... according to past situations, if the negotiations are successful and compensation is duly made according to the rules, that would be the end of it. But if the talks fail, it’s quite normal for one or two mentors to die as long as the gloves hit the ground. Someone always has to pay the price."

Honestly, Malin didn’t quite have the stomach for this method of negotiation, but after all, it was the rule, and proper compensation was not just empty talk, so Malin wasn’t prepared to disrupt it. He just felt that if the Western division of your Church of the War God has already overstepped on the first day of the lunar month, don’t expect Malin from the Southern division to wait till the fifteenth to respond.

"After all, accidents happen in competitions," the leading mentor on the stage said with a smile, taking out a white glove and looking at the furious leading mentor from the Church of the Goddess of Harvest. He tossed it at her feet, "You choose someone to come up."

Emet Selk was the first to stand up, but he couldn’t move as a World Tree Sapling’s cord had tied up his legs.

Malin stood up, with Lorrin helping him to his staff. With the staff’s support, he walked to the front of his Church’s leading mentor under the gaze of the audience, all the mentors from the Church, and the apprentices. He pulled out a handkerchief and wiped away the tears from the young lady’s eyes, "My lady, I’m here."

"Malin, you shouldn’t come up, this isn’t for you," the young lady sobbed.

"No, I’m needed here. My lady, you go down and rest," Malin patted the back of her hand.

Lorrin picked up the glove for Malin, who took it and turned around to look at the leading mentor from the Church of the War God, a smile blooming on Malin’s face, the new mentor scarcely concealing the murderous intent in his eyes, "Who will come forward?"

The old Bishop’s face turned ashen, and then a glove was cast onto his back.

The crowd below erupted into commotion; a few young mentors from the Church of the War God charged forward, but they were all driven back by the old Bishop. Then the old man turned to Malin, "We will make compensation. Today’s event was the fault of the Church of the War God, my fault. I will resign from my post when I return. Is that enough?"

"Not enough, you choose someone to come up," Malin said, pulling out his own glove and throwing it in the old man’s face.

"I’m sorry, I am a coward," the old man said, trembling as he turned and walked off the stage, then scattered the young mentors surging forward once again.

Malin frowned, but there was nothing he could do—the old man, as the Bishop of the Church of the War God, had discarded his dignity, and Malin could hardly stab him in the back.

It went against Malin’s principles, so he could only help his own leading mentor down from the stage in the end.

In the next two matches, perhaps due to the warnings of both sides’ mentors and a switch to all-wooden equipment, there were no further deaths. Nevertheless, the last match between the teams of the Eastern provinces turned into a brawl, with the front row entangled in a fight, eventually separated by the Paladins from the Church of Justice.

Malin would not get involved in kids’ scuffles, so he had to sit below and watch as the little ones put down their weapons and joined the fray with fists and kicks.

Well, at least they knew to drop their weapons. Wooden objects are still weapons after all, and it wouldn’t have been difficult to shatter a throat or an eyeball. This made Malin feel somewhat better, especially since that old Bishop was so forbearing. Malin was genuinely afraid that the crazies from the Church of the War God would force him to kill someone in the upcoming matches—these fools take life and death lightly every day. The old Bishop had been so craven today, beyond Malin’s expectations. When he threw his glove in the old man’s face for the second time, Malin was already prepared to kill someone on the spot with a set of extremely effective fifth-circle Super Ability spells.

The first Spell Formation was the zero-circle spell, Water Droplet, to dampen the old man and increase penetration for a specific spell.

The second Spell Formation was the Super Ability-enhanced Lightning Spear; Malin had used it once when hunting, harvesting a deer that was completely carbonized from the inside out.

So Malin thought that, given the Bishop’s strength, it would be remarkable if he could resist half the power of his spells; Malin was ready for his spells to penetrate fully—whether or not the losers behind him could catch this lightning spear. If they couldn’t, it would mean death.

But to Malin’s surprise, the old man endured it and even kept his Church’s young mentors in check. When he humiliated his own leading mentor, several mentors stood up; the young lady could not command respect, but he could.

So Malin had prepared for the worst. After all, if you all want to fight to the full extent, Malin can’t stand such wickedness: your children kill someone and walk away without apologizing, thinking the Church under the Goddess of Harvest has no one to fight back? That’s fine, I’ll play with you. If you play the same way tomorrow or the day after, Malin is prepared to switch places with Logan.

After all, who can avoid an accident in this arena?

......

Maya, controlling the scarab, observed the target finally returning to the Apprentice resting area of the Church of the War God. These rooms, partitioned by brick and stone, were not made before the Great Destruction Era. The beetle burrowed into the wall and, seeing them talking, Maya pondered for a moment, then steered the beetle to land and scurry into a mouse hole in the wall corner. Taking control of a mouse, she used it to eavesdrop—the beetle couldn’t hear a thing.

"The mentors have all told you! You need to control your emotions! The opponents of your age on the stage are not your enemies!"

"Mentor! In battle, one should not hold back!"

"But that up there is a competition! Not a battle!"

"I am a Mage! Not a trickster! If you think I can’t control my power, then replace me!"

Listening to the argument outside the wall, Maya felt puzzled—were the people from the Church of the War God also dissatisfied with this man, and if so, why were they still protecting him?

As an Orc, although living in the human world, Maya still could not understand this contradiction. It was clear they thought he had done wrong, so why protect him, why still pose as if ready for battle? Even though the old man was chased away by her brother, Maya was truly angry.

Because her brother had said, power should not be used like this male was using it; power is a sword for protecting oneself and the innocent; it is a shield safeguarding conscience and kindness. Perhaps in others’ eyes, power can manifest in countless different ways, but her brother wanted Maya to remember that power is just power, the tool with which many races of this world change their fate, as well as the plow and sword with which all people build civilization.

We are masters of power, not slaves to it.

Before scurrying away from the rat, Maya had ordered the beetles to inject poison into this rat—rats are harmful, and whether they are spirits or not, they deserve to die.

...Faye’s few Rat-man girls are an exception.

Thinking of this, Maya turned her head; her friend was still sobbing, seemingly because a recently made acquaintance appeared on the casualty list.

Maya pondered for a moment and finally laid her tail on her legs.

Her friend turned, tears filling her eyes, and looked at Maya with a gaze mixed with confusion and incomprehension.

"Don’t cry, tears are the epitaph of cowards," Maya told her friend.

"But he’s so powerful, we can’t beat him," her friend replied with regret and fear.

"No, leave him to me. He is a Mage, I am a Shaman; in the Ancient Era, we were hunters and prey," Maya said, patting her friend’s head. "When the time comes, you just need to block the arrows shot at me."

In truth, there was no need for that, Maya was already prepared; as soon as he dared to make a move, she would just counter his Spell Formation, and then, his countdown would begin.

Because the speed of an Elemental Arrow is 670 meters per second, far surpassing ordinary arrows.

And the widest part of the competition field is only 70 meters.

...

When Lillim followed the team onto the field, she had already heard about the conflict between the Church of the War God and the Church of the Harvest Goddess, and the rumors about Malin confronting the elderly Bishop of the Church of the War God also reached her ears. She was surprised that the old man and Malin didn’t end up fighting—because in Lillim’s view, the Church of the War God has always acted with a disregard for life and ready to fight attitude, and her fiancé, Mr. Malin, is also someone who can’t stand injustices. That they didn’t actually come to blows was truly strange.

"Is it true that Malin from the Church of the Harvest Goddess is really your fiancé?" a friend asked from behind her.

Lillim smiled and nodded in response: "It hasn’t been announced yet, it needs to be mentioned by Sister Faye first."

"I’m so envious. I’ve heard he’s a true gentleman who pities others, charming and adorable. You are so lucky," her friend said, then suddenly popped her head out from behind and looked at Lillim: "Count me in, too."

"No way, there are already too many people, besides, you’re not Mr. Malin’s type," Lillim observed her human classmate.

"Eh, why not?!" her friend cooperatively countered.

"I’m a Sheep-person, Maya is a Cat-person, Faye is an Elf half-blood, Clovis is a Rabbit, Jessica is a Werewolf, what qualification does a human girl with no tail, non-pointy ears, and not even white hair have to be Mr. Malin’s bride? You’re daydreaming," Lillim said, then pushed her friend: "The battle is about to start, you go to the front row."

"Stop, why would you say that, are furry ears, white hair, and pointy ears really Mr. Malin’s strike zone?!" Her friend asked while moving forward and turning her head.

"Of course, isn’t that obvious?" Lillim replied, lifting her eyebrows—right, there’s another thing, Malin also really likes her horns.

They are a perfect fit.

Thinking of this, Lillim stretched out her arms and blessed everyone.

Once the battle was over, she would find some time to take good care of her horns.