Mr. Death in the Steam World

A beam of holy light as thick as a bucket blasted from the side, striking the bespectacled man's shield and sending him flying.

The bespectacled man tumbled twice in mid-air before barely managing to regain his balance.

A trickle of blood escaped from the corner of his mouth, and one side of his glasses was completely shattered, with only half of the lens on the bridge of his nose still barely hanging on his face.

The archbishop appeared before him, holy light swirling around him, illuminating the entire sky as if it were daytime.

"You've lost." The archbishop's voice was calm and resolute.

The bespectacled man was silent for a moment, then slowly nodded.

Yes, I lost.

The archbishop appeared before him, holy light swirling around him, illuminating the entire sky as if it were daytime.

The bespectacled man wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth and narrowed his eyes, staring at the high-ranking combatant of the Holy Church in front of him.

The two faced off in mid-air, their air currents surging between them, neither making the first move.

The battle on the ground was nearing its end. The remnants of the Truth Society were divided and surrounded by the combat monks, and one by one they surrendered.

Those fire-attribute mercenaries recruited by Sidwin at high prices had little faith to begin with. Seeing that things were not going well, they simply threw down their weapons, covered their heads with their hands, and squatted on the ground. Their movements were so practiced that one wondered if they did this kind of thing often.

Moen knelt on one knee at the edge of the battlefield, wanting to get up and fight but being stopped by the pain in his right arm.

"Don't move." Emily squatted down beside him, tore a piece of fabric from her skirt, and skillfully wrapped it around his arm.

"Your bone is fractured, but not shattered. Your magic helped you avoid most of the damage."

Moen nodded, his gaze passing over her shoulder to the last few stubborn resistance fighters still holding out on the battlefield.

They were three mercenaries wearing leather armor, huddled back-to-back behind an overturned minecart, their pistols empty and frantically reloading.

Their eyes had lost all fighting spirit, leaving only the desperate struggle of cornered beasts.

Moen took a deep breath and closed his eyes.

Consciousness sank deep into the mind, touching that celestial mirror floating in nothingness.

"Your Highness the Queen."

"Hmm?" The Queen of Hearts' voice carried a hint of languor.

"What is it now? I told you, it's very difficult for you to release your first-tier magic power into me."

"I know," Moen said calmly, "but now it's time."

The Mirror remained silent for a moment.

Then, the white rabbit's voice rang out: "Kid, are you sure? With your current magic reserves, the possession might not even last a minute."

"That's enough."

The Cheshire Cat sighed softly: "Since you've made up your mind, then let's do it."

"But let me make this clear beforehand—after the possession ends, you will be much weaker than you are now, and you might not even be able to stand up straight."

"I know."

Moen opened his eyes.

"Miss Manluo, step back."

Emily paused for a moment, looked up at his face, a hint of confusion flashing in her blue eyes, but she didn't ask anything, she just stood up and took a few steps back.

Moen immersed his consciousness into the Mirror of Immortals, no longer suppressing the calls from the three beings within it.

The sound of pages turning exploded in his mind.

The Death Note opened on its own, the pages turning swiftly without any wind, stopping on a particular page.

Blood-red words emerged from the paper—

"Possessed by the Celestial Mirror - The Trinity"

"Queen of Hearts - Power Projection"

"White Rabbit: Time Distortion"

"Cheshire Cat: Mist Shadows"

Magic surged wildly from his magic circuits, pouring out in all directions like a flood bursting its banks.

A golden-red light exploded from his body, scattering rubble and slag from the edge of the battlefield.

Emily instinctively raised her arm to shield herself from the oncoming blast of air, peering through her fingers at the changing figure in the center of the light.

Moen's hair turned silver-white in the light, with dark red threads of light swirling between the strands, as if lava was flowing at the roots.

A crown woven from thorns appeared on his head, the thorns piercing his forehead skin, blood flowing down his brow and leaving two dark red streaks on his face.

His ears grew long and pointed, covered with a layer of fine grayish-white down—the ears of a white rabbit, trembling gently in the night breeze.

Behind him, a long cat tail extended from the tailbone, the tip of which was shrouded in a faint mist, the Cheshire Cat's ability to conceal itself in mist operating spontaneously.

He opened his eyes.

His pupils turned into vertical pupils, and his dark golden irises gleamed with a cold light under the moonlight.

The power of the Queen of Hearts, "Domination," circulates within him, molding three distinct forces into a single entity.

Moen looked down at his hands and slowly clenched his fists.

power.

An unprecedented power surged from the depths of my body, filling every muscle and every bone.

In the sky, the archbishop sensed the magical fluctuations on the ground and glanced down.

"This is..." he murmured, his gaze falling on the thorny crown atop Moen's head.

"Fourth tier? No, there's no spirit domain, it's just that the strength and speed have been forcibly pulled up to the fourth tier level."

He paused, a very faint smile appearing on his lips.

"An interesting young man."

The bespectacled man also sensed the change in the ground. He turned his head and looked in Moen's direction with the remaining half of his lens.

His expression remained unchanged, but his clenched fists betrayed his inner emotions.

A first-tier magician temporarily boosted his combat power to the fourth tier through some kind of spell he couldn't understand.

This method is difficult even for the Truth Society's technology.

Who exactly is he?

Moen didn't give anyone time to think.

He bent his knees, pushed off the ground, and his figure disappeared from the spot in the next instant.

With the White Rabbit's power of time distortion, "Meow's Swiftness" was amplified to an unbelievable degree.

He didn't even need to consciously control his direction; his body moved across the battlefield as if by instinct.

In the first second, he appeared beside the overturned mine cart.

The three mercenaries behind the minecart didn't even see his movements clearly; they only felt a blur before their eyes, and then a tremendous force slammed into them from the side.

Moen didn't use a gun, or even his fists.

He simply raised his right hand and waved it lightly.

The cat's tail lashed out from behind, its tip, wreathed in mist, striking the wrist of the nearest mercenary with pinpoint accuracy, knocking the pistol from his hand.

Immediately afterwards, he sidestepped the second man's dagger, reached out with his left hand to grab the man's wrist, and gently twisted his wrist joint with his thumb.

Click.

The sound of dislocated joints was crisp and short. The mercenary screamed and shrunk half his height.

The third person finally reacted, pulled a short knife from his waist, and stabbed Moen in the abdomen.

Instead of retreating, Moen advanced, his cat tail whipping out again, wrapping around the opponent's wrist and pulling it outwards, causing the knife to stab empty air.

He then punched the man in the chest, and the man felt like he couldn't catch his breath. His legs went weak and he knelt on the ground.

In just five seconds, all three mercenaries were rendered incapable of fighting.