Steampunk Era: Mad Abield
Chapter 98: Eighty-sixth - : The Performance is About to Begin (Part Two)

Chapter 98: Eighty-sixth Chapter: The Performance is About to Begin (Part Two)

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Malin looked at the tall and thin man before him, who appeared to be a very normal man. According to the guide from the Church, he was Crown Prince Mowish.

Faye’s brother?

Yeah, apparently the current King has two ladies, and Faye is the child of that elven lady, Anna. This one must be born to the other lady.

"You’re Malin?"

This lanky guy seemed puzzled, just like Malin.

But while Malin was wondering why he was looking for him, the tall man was puzzled... "Why are you so tiny? I wanted to duel with you, but you’re too small, I’m afraid I won’t win honorably," he said as he crouched down.

...Damn, being two meters tall is such a big deal, huh!

Malin inwardly scorned the Crown Prince and then nodded: "I am Malin. If you want to duel, we can go to the dueling arena right now."

"Hold on a second. I thought a guy who could make my sister fall for him would be a terrific young man, just like those fine boys over there." As he said this, he pointed to a group of seventh graders walking out through the back hall door: "Hey, guys, could you come over here for a sec?"

The leader of the seventh graders glanced at Malin, then looked at the prince with a bit of disdain: "We’re not coming over."

"Why?! Don’t you want to take my sister away from this little guy? Where’s your courage? My sister is Faye! She’s so cute!"

"We’re not idiots!" After the leading boy said that, he also called out "crazy" and then ran away quickly with his friends.

The lanky guy fell silent for a moment, then turned to Malin: "You seem to be more trouble than I thought."

"Yeah, big brother, let’s duel." Malin, holding the pure steel longsword he just took from the stone statue’s hand, and using it like a greatsword, grinned like a well-meaning citizen of Gotham.

...

Half an hour later, the bruised and battered lanky guy and Malin, who had just stretched out after a good fight, sat in a café near the Church—it wasn’t that Malin was too good at fighting, but that the prince... really couldn’t fight.

According to him, his specialty was firearms; close combat was just to keep his head on his neck. This time against an unusual opponent like Malin, he was on the receiving end for the entire duration.

But considering his status, Malin couldn’t exactly turn his great uncle into a wall painting. So after going back and forth for half an hour, they only fought for five minutes, the rest was spent making small talk—after one exchange with Malin, the prince was convinced. In his words, Malin could already take a few moves against his brother.

"Speaking of your brother, is that your brother there?" Malin, sitting at an outdoor table, said as he watched the burly man rushing on a horse to the church entrance, jumping off the horse directly, and then crashing into the church doors.

"Yeah, that’s him... ah, he flew out." Watching his younger brother fly out from triggering the Church’s counteractive array due to his recklessness, he, as a big brother, could only raise his hand to greet his brother—you can’t just watch him smash his head bloody in front of the array.

"Bro, you’re not dead?"

"...Can’t you say something nicer?"

The two brothers had just met, and Malin was almost killed by their banter.

Please, I’m not some killer from Texas.

Although his older brother looked a bit ragged, considering that he came for a duel, not a pleasure trip, it was clear that Malin had shown restraint.

So the younger brother also dropped his hostile gaze at Malin and started to reassess him.

While Malin wondered if the Mowish family had taken the wrong medication, he heard the younger brother start laughing: "Brother, leave him to me. I’ll break his legs."

Definitely the wrong meds.

...

Half an hour later, the two brothers, similarly bruised and battered, sat in the Church’s medical area, watching Malin’s post-lunch activity—the inter-apprentice competition is said to be happening next month in the Church, and Malin, being the toughest apprentice, was giving a ’supplementary lesson’ to the students from grades six, seven, and eight.

"Oh my God, isn’t that the Kaban kid? He’s flying so fast, wow, he hit the wall." The younger brother couldn’t help but exclaim as he watched the battle unfold.

"Dak, you were flying the same way just now," the older brother, Boone, kindly reminded his sibling, as it’s important not to forget the pain once the wound has healed.

"Boone, I wasn’t wearing anything just now. If I had my armor on, could he have moved me at all!"

As the younger brother defiantly retorted, the two watched as a mud elemental was sent flying midair by that kid named Malin, who then kicked the summoner off the field, screaming as he hit the cushion below.

"What were you saying just now?" The older brother asked the younger.

"I didn’t say anything," the younger brother replied very sheepishly.

Margaret, who was applying medicine to the two brothers, couldn’t stop laughing.

"My dear sister, don’t make fun of your poor brothers," the eldest brother pouted. He reached out his hand and kissed the back of Margaret’s hand: "By the way, I heard you’re engaged to Colin?"

"Next February, brother, how did you know?" Margaret was curious.

"Of course, it was my unlucky cousin who told me," Boone said, smiling at his sister. "Don’t worry, our mother took a big bribe from mother Anna, and she agreed to your marriage. Dak and I won’t interfere."

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"Then why did you guys come looking for Malin? Anna’s mom also agreed to this, right?" Margaret said, forcefully wiping Dak’s bleeding forehead with a cotton swab soaked in alcohol.

"Wait a second, why are you treating my wound with medical tactics when there’s Divine Arts?" Dak complained, almost rolling his eyes in pain.

"Today, someone made fun of my surgical knowledge," Margaret replied, scrubbing harder.

Colin also walked over at this time. He looked at Malin, who was fighting on the field as if hanging paintings and then glanced at the brothers. "Dak, Boone, what is this..."

"They had a duel with Malin," Margaret said cheerfully to Colin.

"It seems Malin did hold back," Colin nodded. "That’s what I find reassuring about him; he always tries to spare people when he can."

"He held back? It felt to me like a fully armored horse smashed into me!" Dak exaggerated, pointing at himself.

"Believe me, Dak, the force of Malin unleashed is something the average person simply can’t withstand," Colin spoke, watching as a just-summoned Otherworldly dog was pummeled into a blood rain by Malin’s hammer.

"Wow," Boone reacted. "Dak, what did you just say?"

"I think Malin really did hold back," Dak wiped the sweat from his forehead, his hands trembling like quails in the autumn breeze.

"Malin! Lighter! Nobody in the apprentice competition can take a hammer like that and turn Otherworldly dogs into parts," Colin shouted loudly.

Malin on the stage nodded, then with a small gesture, another Otherworldly dog successfully combusted under the care of an instantly cast Supernatural Flame Ray, filling the air with the scent of cooked meat, as the summoner girl shouted "My Butch!" and fainted.

"He knows Spell Formations?!" Boone and Dak’s eyes bulged at the sight of the young lad.

"Blessing ten, Curse nine, Shaping seven, don’t spread it around," Colin advised the two, as they could be considered Malin’s uncles.

"I’m starting to feel like my sister’s marrying up," Boone rolled his eyes—Margaret had begun to treat the wounds on his face with alcohol.

"If I knew he was this kind of monster, why would I have crossed him?" Dak held his swollen face, feeling it was a wasted beating. "Truly, Anna’s mom has extraordinary insight."

"Speaking of which, Colin, you can’t really be considered a genius youth compared to him," Boone turned his head to look at Colin.

"No, Colin still is my genius youth," Margaret said with a smile, turning to look at Colin. "How about we have barbecue tonight?"

"Sure, we could invite Maya and Malin over. That girl’s barbecue is unbeatable."

"That would be perfect."

The conversation between the affectionate couple ended, and Malin had knocked down the last apprentice, dusted off his hands, and walked off the dueling field.

"No, tonight Malin and I are going to Clovis’s place for dinner."

"Clovis? The Clovis from Mage Tower, the Rabbitfolk?" Boone blinked, then asked doubtfully.

"Yes, do you know her?"

"Of course, I know her father—biologically," Boone laughed. "But all that should be none of your concern. I won’t bring it up, and if one day you have to kill him, just do it. I won’t plead for him."

"Should I say thanks in advance?" Malin was curious; this didn’t sound like a friendly relationship.

"No need, just let me know when you’re ready to slaughter him," Boone answered with a smile.

Malin thought for a moment, shrugged, and then took the training sword handed to him by his mentor. "What, are we still hitting?"

"Why don’t you spar with a group team?" the mentor asked, smiling.

"Five people? Just me?" Malin asked, frowning.

"I think you’ll be fine," the mentor nodded. "I trust you. In this match, apart from Shaping Spells, please improvise. Let those kids see the real you."

"All right then," Malin, taking up the wooden sword, entered the arena.

Boone and Dak exchanged a look and then turned to Colin. "Colin, can he really take on five people by himself?"

"Never tried before," Colin took out a cigarette case, pulled out two cigarettes for his uncles, and gave himself one. "But this time Malin can use his spells, so it should be a good fight."

No sooner had he finished speaking than they saw Malin on the field immediately hitting a charging warrior with a ray, sending him face-first into the dirt, then using Blink to evade an incoming spear, appearing in front of the Healer and kicking her onto a cushy, padded wall.

The spear thrower turned and hurled a second Longsword, which Malin deflected; a branch then extended from his sleeve, turning into a whip before everyone’s eyes, and with a single lash, sent an elf drawing a second bow flying through the air.

Turning, Malin used his Longsword to knock down the Gnome attempting a backstab, danced around the warrior’s second rush, grabbed the third Longsword hurled at him, and threw it back at the thrower who, shocked by its speed, screamed as the blunt spear floored him.

Then, without looking back, Malin tossed his wooden Longsword behind him, hitting the just-turned-around warrior in the chest, knocking him down.

"That’s it?" Boone glanced at Dak.

"Can’t beat him," Dak turned his head away.

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