Steampunk Era: Mad Abield
Chapter 668 - 467: Song of the Deep Diver (II)

Chapter 668: 467: Song of the Deep Diver (II)

When Malin opened his eyes once more, he found himself in an entirely different room, sitting alone on a plush sofa in the middle of the hall.

Another Deep Dive? Malin wondered if he had been diving too often of late.

As he pondered this, he heard shouting from outside the window. Walking over, he saw a strange city with factory chimneys in the distance spewing white smoke, and in the streets below, people gathered in the same era-style he had seen before.

"The North Sacred Conglomerate has announced the end of the war! We’ve won!" a newsboy shouted in his youthful voice.

Hmm... times have changed, haven’t they?

With such reflections, Malin watched the city before him, feeling a mix of admiration and confusion, but ultimately, the scene before him was somewhat comforting—it seemed there had been some changes. Last time, that kid Mars mentioned that the South Pact Group had apparently spent their last penny after the war, but this time, it looked even better than before.

With Malin’s keen eyesight, he could tell that the faces of the people on the streets looked healthier than the ones Mars described, who could have starved to death.

Looking at himself in the mirror, well, just a normal kid.

Although it wasn’t him, Malin thought that perhaps once again he was seeing the future world through his progeny, wondering if Mars would appear this time, too?

Well... it’s possible, but either way, Malin decided to go downstairs to have a look.

Dressed, he took his wallet from his pocket, went downstairs, and from a newsboy, he took a newspaper. He was about to pay when he heard the boy shout, "Sir, today the entire Carterburg Press Group, including the Carterburg Times Weekly, will be distributing newspapers for free. We’ve won!"

"To victory," Malin nodded with a smile.

He took the newspaper and glanced at the headline—The North Sacred Conglomerate announces unconditional surrender, ending the five-year war.

Malin didn’t look at the newspaper again; he simply felt that... all the extra investment he made seemed to have finally paid off.

That was enough.

Walking in the streets, more and more citizens left their apartments, and an increasing number of workers in blue uniforms also appeared on the streets.

More and more people joined the jubilant throng.

Every now and then, little girls would come over to hug Malin, or even give him a kiss.

Malin always responded with a happy smile and a hug.

Dwarves began pushing carts loaded with barrels of booze, handing out alcoholic drinks to anyone they met.

Half-humans followed the dwarves, pushing carts filled with various foods, marked with prices. Malin didn’t understand the value represented by the numbers, but judging by the way they were snatched up and the happy faces of the people, the city’s supplies hadn’t run out yet.

"Come on, human boy! Drink!" A dwarf handed Malin a cup and filled it with booze.

"To victory!" they shouted loudly.

"To everyone," Malin raised his cup with a smile, then downed the drink.

The dwarves laughed and hugged Malin before pushing their carts onwards. A half-human with an empty cart came up to Malin, opened the bottom cabinet of his cart, and took out a loaf of bread: "Here you go! It’s free!"

"Thank you," Malin took the bread and bit into it... It was white bread, tasting mediocre, with an unidentifiable additive, but it implied that flour was still being supplied and the farmers’ income wasn’t too bad... no, in this era, perhaps it’s better to call them farm owners.

"Next time come to the Three-And-A-Half Feet Bakery at 193 Maya Avenue, kid. Once this year’s new flour is out, we can have the best Carterburg white bread again." The half-human hugged Malin and then pursued the dwarves with his cart.

Malin fell silent for a moment, looking at his clothes—something was wrong. Why did it feel like everyone in the city knew him, and everyone liked him?

Who could the owner of this body possibly be?

Malin had seen the appearance of this body before: a plain human exterior, not old in age. It didn’t seem like someone who should be universally loved.

While pondering this, Malin spotted an old veteran—one leg had a prosthetic, and half of his skull was fixed with a steel plate.

The veteran looked at him and eventually came over, ruffling Malin’s hair: "Kid, the war is over, we’ve won."

"Yes, sir, we won," Malin said, looking at the middle-aged man.

"In what year did your father and mother die in battle?" the middle-aged man asked before looking at Malin’s puzzled expression. Sighing with a tinge of self-reproach, he added, "I’m sorry, I’ve asked a question that would upset you. The only child in Carterburg who could be wearing a double-breasted military coat is none other than Engma Jane Haus, Mister."

"Salute to you, young sir. The intelligence your father and mother paid for with their lives saved countless others," he said, then hugged Malin: "I must go now, may you live in peace and joy."

"And may you live a life free of pain and sorrow," Malin said with a smile—he understood. This child bore the name of Haus. His parents had given their lives nobly to save many others.

This is indeed the lineage of Malin, where dying with honor is preferred to living in shame.

Malin moved forward with the crowd.

Some began to sing in celebration, while others wept, as the war had ended, and everyone showed their emotions in their own unique way.

Arm in arm, men and women danced and laughed to the rhythm, young girls kissed their young lovers in the streets, and Malin also saw old couples walking hand in hand.

Elderly veterans played their instruments, the off-tune melodies too painful to listen to closely.

Watching it all, Malin’s heart was full of joy—his actions had changed the world, and it was truly wonderful.

Feeling somewhat tired, Malin sat at the edge of a fountain—which was empty and looked as though it hadn’t worked in some time, so there was no fear of getting wet from the water spurting out.

Malin looked around, his attention eventually caught by Mars—the child had scarcely changed at all.

Malin waved at the child, who immediately noticed him—it seemed that, just like last time, to the child’s eyes, Malin must still appear as an energy being in human form.

"It’s a pleasure to see you again, child," Malin said, looking at the little one. Whether it was this child or the one whose body he was now using, these offspring brought joy to Malin.

Though losing them had been hard for Malin, the knowledge that they had sacrificed themselves for their ideals made him feel his teachings were correct.

"I’ve managed to escape to District 10, thank you, ancestor. I used the method you taught to kill the two guys who were after me. They’d never expect bullets to turn corners," Mars said excitedly—a rare trait in this era, given the lack of creative thinking akin to Malin’s.

"What’s your next step?" Malin asked.

"I must become stronger. I’ve found my father’s latest journal; he was undercover to find the true mastermind behind Dead Eyes in the upper third layer of the Nest City. He died at the hands of Dead Eyes for the justice he wanted to protect... I will take my revenge for him."

Malin felt both relieved and frustrated to hear the child speak those words—relieved that the child loved his father and was bent on avenging him; frustrated that the brat thought he could avenge his father with no real skills and did not understand the concept that a gentleman’s revenge could wait ten years.

"Child, think about it, is your current strength enough to take your revenge?" Malin asked.

"No, but ancestor, if I don’t think about revenge every day, I’m afraid I’ll forget it all one day."

The child’s face was etched with both determination and sorrow.

"But at least learn how to smile, child," Malin said, patting the child’s head and then getting up: "Come, child, back to my room. I’ll teach you some survival techniques."

The child followed Malin back to his residence. When entering the room, the child hesitated: "Is your current body Engma Jane Haus?"

"It should be, what’s the matter, do you know him?"

"Of course, he’s quite an odd Haus in this era... how should I put it..." the young man hesitated.

Malin thought for a moment and decided to let the youngster explain.

"Engma Jane Haus established a gang named Dead Vine when he was barely in his teens, a man with a great deal of experience," he recounted.

Listening to Mars speak, Malin was silent for a moment: "Does he understand what a gang is?"

Malin posed the question.

"Are you questioning the strength of the underground Pope of Carterburg? It’s all written in the history books," Mars countered.

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