Steampunk Era: Mad Abield
Chapter 655: Section 460: Victory (Part 1)

Chapter 655: Section 460: Victory (Part 1)

The child seated on the brass throne watched the mortal battle with great interest. Although it could no longer be called a evenly matched fight, seeing his favored youth standing in the forefront facing danger every time still made him admire the mortal’s bravery.

What a pity, he thought, if the young man could become his champion, he would have prepared for him the grandest conquest, a battle to sweep across the whole world, an eternal war with only one victor. Whichever world he chose, he would grant him the finest champions and battalions at his disposal.

But the youth was not willing; the child had rejected him time and again, and the presence of Nameless made it impossible for him to bestow his blessings forcibly on the youth.

Moreover, his covenant with Nameless prevented him from directly sending legions to invade that world... But it didn’t matter. As Chaos, he had enough time to be called eternal, and this child named Malin, he was just a mortal, as he himself had said, mortals will eventually exhaust their strength. Such insignificant life always changes its mind at different stages of life. Perhaps when he grows old, he might change his mind.

This child is more suited to eternal life on the battlefield.

Leaning against the backrest of the brass chair, the eternal being raised a hand, and someone in his service brought him a fresh drink.

Hmm... that’s right, there was one more thing.

He looked up, and the prince standing next to him immediately bowed his head.

"Where are the souls of those two children."

"Imprisoned in our Underground Prison, sealed in fine Spirit Coffins, is it time to bestow a blessing upon them?"

Lacking any discernment, he waved his hand and reduced the prince to compost.

Standing aside, a girl with the same appearance approached him, "Your Majesty, do you mean to give them to Malin?"

"Ah, your intelligence indeed fascinates me, unlike that damned parrot mimic. Little one, go and prepare, let my messenger tell Malin, he is still the god-chosen champion I am most looking forward to. I await the day he has a change of heart. His talents should not be buried with him in the earth; he was born for eternal life on the battlefield." As he finished speaking, he watched the girl turn to leave and once again cast a puzzled glance over everything in his garden.

Both Nameless and I are superior deities, with nearly equal strength. Why are his kin so lively and clever, so understanding?

As for mine... He didn’t know how to describe these slightly stuck things, still puzzled today by the unsolved mysteries in his heart.

All of us are deities, why is there such a difference?

......

The attacks of the Rat-man’s slaves became more frequent. The Rat-men prepared to overwhelm the human contraption with flesh and blood, but the vast gulf between the eras of cold weapons and the long duration of the Second World War after the industrial revolution could not be bridged with Spell Formations and magical power, to say nothing of flesh and blood.

The act of spears piercing through tanks only exists in barbaric (civilized) tales.

The Rat-man slaves couldn’t even waste bullets; they had no other fate but to be pierced over and over by full-powered large-caliber bullets.

Even if their growth cycle could be described as brief, no matter what, such astronomical exchange rates were enough to bankrupt the Rat-men.

The cowardly Rat-men became even weaker in the face of Malin’s troops advancing again and again. Even a round of rapid fire was enough to shatter the morale of the Rat-man slaves, who fled with screams, even dispersing their own comrades, giving Malin a more direct experience of these cannon fodder.

The only trouble they caused Malin was that his logistics team had to make two rounds of supply runs with their carts, but in Malin’s view, a problem that can be solved with bullets is definitely not a problem. His soldiers would become the most standard killing machines through continuous killing, and in the coming era, Malin needed as many of these old soldiers who were accustomed to life and death as possible. The more the better.

"We are one hundred meters from the node." The person originally responsible for building the underground sewer asked as he ran to Malin’s side.

"I understand." Malin replied, pulling the trigger of the firearm in his hand. The shotgun blasts evenly spread into the rat crowd ahead, bringing down several figures hiding in the shadows along with the rat beings that were covering them.

Night Sprinter Rat? Probably. But their stealth was of no use in the face of such firepower; they could only be indiscriminately killed by the collateral damage.

The road ahead became wider and wider, more and more Dwarves originally in the reserve teams joined the front lines, while the figures of elven Archers also appeared more frequently in the forefront of the factory guard team. Although they had only touched these weapons for a short time, when it came to using them for slaughter, they possessed a talent far beyond that of humans.

Apart from Slave Rats, there were also armored Storm Vermin or censer monks wielding flails trying to break into the line amidst the chaos, but without exception, they were intercepted. If the numbers were small, no special measures were needed. When the opposition was in large numbers, the Dwarven Flame Soldiers, protected by their brethren with shields, would step forward, using Flamethrowers to teach the Rat-men a lesson in physical Purification.

During the time, Malin heard a strange noise similar to a motor turning. For safety’s sake, he used the Flame Burst Spell to conduct an indiscriminate bombardment in the direction of the sound. Six shots of Flame Burst Spell Formation—if not enough, another round.

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