Mr. Death in the Steam World

Feeling a little uncomfortable under Moen's gaze, Phils lowered her head and started playing with her cuffs.

After a moment of silence, she suddenly spoke:

"Mr. Marcus, have you... noticed any changes in your body? Like changes in your mana circulation or something?"

Moen paused for a moment, then asked, "Why do you ask that?"

"Because you were also at the ceremony that day, after becoming the agent, I gained twelve more magic circuits."

Phils raised her right hand, and her sleeve slid down, revealing the mark of the flame flower.

"I'm wondering if that ceremony might also affect you."

Moen's heart skipped a beat.

He instinctively reached under his pillow—the Death Note was lying there quietly.

"I haven't checked it carefully yet," he said calmly. "I'll take a look later."

Phils nodded and didn't ask any further questions.

She then brought up her twelve new loops.

Ordinary magic circuits are used to convert and output magic power, but these twelve circuits seem to be specifically designed to serve a particular ability.

When she tried to use them to manipulate magic, she could feel a very clear directionality.

Moen became interested: "Directional?"

"Hmm." Phils raised her left hand, and a flame rose from her palm.

That flame was completely different from before.

Its color is pure gold, carrying a sacred and solemn aura. The shape of the flames looks as if they have been carefully sculpted, with every line clearly visible.

What's most surprising is that the heat emanating from this flame isn't scorching; instead, it gives off a warm and comforting feeling, like a fireplace in winter.

"First of all, ordinary flames can't hurt me."

Phils held her left hand above the golden flame, the flame licking her fingers.

"I tried it before, I put my finger directly into a regular stove fire, and I didn't feel anything at all."

"Secondly, my control over the flames has improved significantly."

As soon as she finished speaking, the golden flame began to change shape.

It stretched from a ball into a slender fire serpent, coiled around Phils's fingertips a few times, and then condensed into the shape of a small bird, flapping its wings and flying to Moen, leaving a golden-red trail in the air.

Moen couldn't help but whistle.

Even a magician specializing in fire magic wouldn't be able to achieve this level of fire control without three to five years of training.

After acquiring these twelve loops, Phils mastered this control almost effortlessly.

"And what else?" Phils's voice held a hint of excitement. "I can teleport using fire."

"As long as I can see flames, or sense that there are flames somewhere, I can teleport myself to that location."

"The farther the distance, the more magic power is consumed, but theoretically, as long as I have enough magic power, I can teleport to any place with fire."

Moen's expression changed from "interested" to "Are you sure you're not kidding me?"

"What about observation?" he asked. "Can you see what's happening in other places through the flames?"

Fils paused for a moment, then actually nodded:

"I tried it once. I left a small flame in the fireplace on the first floor of the hospital, then came back to this room and focused my attention on sensing that flame..."

"And I actually saw the scene around the fireplace. It was blurry, like looking through a thin veil, but I could definitely see it."

Moen took a deep breath: "This is way too much."

Fils clearly didn't understand the meaning of the word, tilting her head slightly to look at him, a hint of confusion in her eyes:

"Exceeding the standard... what does that mean?"

"I'm praising you." Moen chuckled and waved his hand. "I mean you're amazing, incredibly amazing, ridiculously amazing."

Phils blushed instantly.

She lowered her head, pulled her sleeve down to cover the mark on the back of her hand, and spoke very softly:

"It's not that powerful... These are all from the marks, not from my own cultivation..."

Moen smiled at her expression and didn't continue the topic.

But what he was thinking was far from as easy as it seemed on the surface.

The twelve Olympian gods represent twelve agents.

One of them was Death, who granted him abilities related to death; another god granted Phils abilities related to fire, and these abilities were ridiculously powerful.

With fire immunity, superior control, fire teleportation, and fire observation, Phils alone can take on an elite combat squad.

What about the other ten main gods? What abilities did they grant to the agents?

Is it like Phils, where each ability is the ultimate enhancement in a certain field?

The most crucial question is—what exactly is the relationship between the agents?

Allies, enemies, or some other more complex relationship?

He instinctively looked at Phils.

Seeing the blush on the tips of her ears, Moen suddenly felt that his worries were somewhat unnecessary.

Regardless of the relationship between those agents, and regardless of what kind of script fate has arranged for him.

At least for this moment, the girl sitting by his bedside, her ears red and flustered by his praise, was his friend.

She chose to place all her bets on him during that ceremony, not because he was an agent of some supreme god, but because she trusted him.

This is enough.

As for those higher-level things, we'll talk about them when he encounters them.

After Phils left, Moen secretly summoned the Death Note.

He casually flipped through the pages, intending to glance at the contents he had already studied repeatedly—

On the inside of the cover, an unfamiliar pattern quietly appears.

It was a flower of flame.

"When did it appear?" Moen frowned and tried to touch it with his hand.

The moment his fingers touched it, a warm sensation surged from the mark and rushed into his magic circuit.

He focused his attention, imagining flames rising from his palm.

The humming of the magic circuit working soon echoed deep within his consciousness, and a ball of flame leaped from his palm.

It's completely different from before.

The flames used to be pure flames, but now their color has changed, shimmering with a faint golden luster, as if some kind of divine blessing has been infused into them.

Like Phils's flame.

Moen tried to control it, and the flame leaped from his palm, arced through the air, and landed next to the now-cold glass of water on the bedside table.

"The control precision has also improved," Moen muttered to himself.

Why is this happening?

He leaned against the pillow, his mind racing.

Why did Fils's Vulcan Mark appear in the Death Note?