Mr. Death in the Steam World

"Hahaha—" The devil's laughter echoed in his mind, filled with an almost insane pleasure.

"You've finally spoken! After all these years, you've finally taken the initiative to talk!"

"Twelve years! Arthur! Every time it's the same old 'Shut up, you devil,' 'Shut up, you devil,' 'Shut up, you devil!'"

"Now you're finally willing to beg me?"

"I'm not begging you," Arthur's voice remained calm. "I'm giving you a chance."

"Chance?"

"You've been trapped inside me for twelve years, don't you want to come out and get some fresh air?"

The demon was silent for a moment, then he laughed with pleasure.

"Interesting. Arthur Aldridge, you're more interesting than I thought."

"Then—as you wish."

Arthur opened his eyes.

A flash of pitch-black light appeared and disappeared deep within his pupils.

Silvery-white holy light surged from his body, but this time, it was mixed with dark red patterns that spread like blood vessels within the light.

His hair turned gray from the tips, and fine lines appeared on his skin.

The longsword trembled in his hand, the holy light on the blade was replaced by blood-red flames, and an ominous glow appeared on the edge of the blade.

On the battlefield, everyone felt that aura.

The combat monks instinctively took a half step back, while the members of the Truth Society stared wide-eyed.

That is not the power of the Holy Church.

That's not the magician's power.

That is--

demon!

Arthur looked up, his gray-green eyes now completely dark red.

A cold smile appeared on his lips, and his figure vanished from the spot in an instant.

The next second, he was already in the center of the Truth Society members' line.

The longsword swept horizontally.

There was no sword light, no spell, only a pure slash.

The three members of the Truth Society didn't even have time to scream before they were sent flying by the slash and crashed heavily into the rock wall of the mine.

Arthur did not stop.

His figure flashed across the battlefield, each appearance accompanied by a dark red sword light.

The Truth Society's defenses collapsed completely within minutes.

Those fire-attribute mercenaries recruited by Sidwin at high prices, those well-trained Truth Society combatants, were as vulnerable as paper in front of Arthur, who had unleashed his demonic power.

A mercenary attempted a flank attack, but Arthur didn't even turn around. He simply raised his left hand and waved it lightly, sending the man flying with a dark red shockwave.

Another member of the Truth Society attempted to cast a spell, but before he could finish the incantation, Arthur appeared in front of him and punched him in the chest, slamming him into the ground.

On the battlefield, wherever Arthur's figure passed, only a field of fallen enemies remained.

Moen knelt on one knee at the edge of the battlefield, watching Arthur's back as he charged through the enemy lines, a bitter smile appearing on his lips.

"It turns out he's been hiding his true abilities all along."

Emily knelt beside him, examining the injury on his arm.

"It's not about hiding his abilities," she said without looking up. "His source of power is questionable."

"I know," Moen said, "but so what?"

Emily looked up at him, a complex light flashing in her turquoise eyes, then lowered her head to continue tending to his wounds.

Arthur's charge lasted only a few minutes.

When the last remaining Truth Society member was knocked to the ground by him, Arthur's body suddenly froze.

He lowered his head and looked at his right hand, which was holding the longsword.

Dark red lines were spreading upwards from his fingers, as if something was eroding his body.

In his mind, the demon's voice carried a hint of regret.

"Unfortunately, this is the best we can go. Your body can't take any more."

Arthur did not speak.

He felt his vision begin to blur, and his legs felt as heavy as lead.

He heard shouts in his ears, someone calling his name, but he couldn't make out whose voice it was. He only felt that the voices were getting farther and farther away, and becoming more and more indistinct.

His body fell backward.

In the last second before losing consciousness, he saw Moen running towards him with an anxious expression on his face that he had never seen before.

He wanted to say something, but his mouth wouldn't obey him.

"Marcus..." he murmured to himself, "The rest... is up to you..."

Then, darkness swallowed everything.

Moen rushed over and caught Arthur's falling body, gently placing him on the ground.

Arthur's face was as pale as paper, his hair had turned completely gray, and the lines on his skin were slowly fading, but the rate at which they disappeared was agonizingly slow.

"Arthur! Arthur!"

no respond.

Two combat monks ran over from the front line and helped Arthur up from the ground, one on each side.

“Mr. Marcus,” one of the monks said, “we’ll get Priest Aldridge to the rear for treatment first.”

Moen nodded without saying anything.

His gaze shifted from Arthur's retreating figure to the battlefield.

The combat monks were cleaning up the battlefield, and the remnants of the Truth Society were scattering and fleeing. The situation seemed to have stabilized.

But Moen's intuition told him that things weren't over yet.

He looked up at the two figures still locked in combat in the sky.

The battle between the archbishop and the bespectacled man continued, but Moen could see that the archbishop had gained a decisive advantage.

The bespectacled man sustained more and more injuries, and his movements became increasingly sluggish.

The scales of victory are tipping in their favor.

Just then, the figure in the sky suddenly stopped moving.

The bespectacled man hovered in mid-air, looking down at the chaotic battlefield on the ground.

His Truth Society members have completely collapsed.

Some were subdued by the combat cultivators, some escaped into the depths of the mine in the chaos, and several lay motionless on the ground, their fate unknown.

On the battlefield, only sporadic fighting continues.

Among those people, he saw Moen.

The first-tier magician was kneeling on one knee at the edge of the battlefield, one of his arms already badly mangled, but his eyes were still fixed on him.

There was no fear, no retreat.

"Interesting," he murmured. "Really interesting."

He put his hands behind his back, and dark purple light condensed again at his fingertips.

His movements were very stealthy, and no one noticed what he was doing. He could even imagine how the first-tier reptile would turn to dust in an instant after this attack.

The light shot out, and a smile crept onto his lips; everything was just as he had predicted.

It should be so.

On Moen's body, the protective sachet glowed slightly, and a cat's paw suddenly appeared from nothingness, gently deflecting the beam of light.

「!?」

The bespectacled man was stunned and couldn't understand what had happened. Fortunately, the backlash wasn't too severe, and he prepared to make another move.

But this time, the archbishop did not give him a chance to act.