Mr. Death in the Steam World

Chapter 159 Rejection and the Sacred Fire

The next morning, the group continued its journey.

The further northwest you go, the denser the demonic power in the air becomes.

Gregory walked at the front of the group, and his face didn't look too good.

His brows were furrowed, and every now and then he would raise his hand to signal the group to stop and wait for the people behind to catch up before continuing.

"Sir," a young priest ran up from the back of the column, his voice weak, "a few of the brothers are starting to give out."

Gregory stopped and turned to look at the back of the group.

Several priests were kneeling in the snow, their faces pale and their foreheads covered in cold sweat.

Some people were bent over gagging, some were clutching their chests and gasping for breath, and one person was slumped on the snow, his legs shaking violently.

"Rejection reaction," Gregory said softly, a hint of helplessness in his voice. "The demonic power is eroding their bodies."

He walked over, squatted down next to the priest who was slumped on the ground, and reached out to touch the man's forehead.

"How is it?"

"My head... my head hurts..." the priest's voice trailed off, "It feels like something's churning inside my stomach..."

"It's normal," Gregory patted him on the shoulder. "You'll be fine after a rest."

That's what they say, but Moen could tell that Gregory himself wasn't much better off.

There were several dark red lines on the back of his hand, marks of demonic power's erosion. Although they weren't deep yet, the signs were already visible.

Moen looked away and turned to Phils.

Phils walked beside him, her complexion relatively normal. After all, the power of the Vulcan protected her, and the demonic power had a much milder effect on her than on others.

The rejection reaction is just the beginning.

In the afternoon, an even more serious problem arose.

"Commander Gregory!" A priest ran back from the front of the group, his face showing panic. "Someone—someone's started grabbing snowflakes and stuffing them into their mouths!"

Gregory's expression changed, and he quickly walked to the front of the group.

A priest was kneeling in the snow, scooping up handfuls of snow and stuffing them into his mouth, his lips covered in ice and mud.

His eyes were wide open, with a red glow deep in his pupils, making him look like a ravenous beast.

"Hold him down!" Gregory shouted.

Several priests rushed forward, grabbing the priest's arms on either side, trying to drag him up from the snow.

But the priest was incredibly strong. With a sudden swing of his arm, he sent the man flying, crashing into the snow and sliding several meters away.

"Food—give me food—"

Seeing this, Moen couldn't help but recall the High Priest's words:

Beelzebub, the original sin demon who presides over "gluttony".

The so-called "binge eating" is not just greed for food, but greed for everything that can be devoured.

Flesh and blood, life force, magic, soul—everything is His food.

And now, his power is affecting everyone who gets close through the demonic energy permeating the air.

Except for Moen, who has no appetite.

Gregory didn't waste any more words. He stepped forward, pressed his right hand against the middle-aged priest's nape, grabbed his wrist with his left hand, and twisted it sharply.

The priest groaned and his body went limp.

"Tie him up." Gregory released his grip, stood up, and said in a cold, hard voice, "Wait until he comes to his senses."

Several priests hurriedly tied the priest up tightly with ropes and carried him to the back of the line.

Gregory stood still, his gaze extremely serious.

"Listen up, everyone!"

"From now on, anyone who senses something is wrong must report it immediately. No hiding anything is allowed!"

"Anyone who disobeys will be expelled on the spot!"

Everyone nodded silently.

The group continued forward, but at a slower pace than in the morning.

Moen walked in the middle of the group, his eyes constantly observing the state of those around him.

Everyone is consumed by hunger, just to varying degrees.

However, after the chaos of the morning, they have found a solution.

Just then, a commotion suddenly broke out in the middle of the group.

"not good"

Moen stepped forward and reached out to grab the boy's shoulder.

But the boy reacted faster than he expected.

He suddenly turned his head and bit at Moen's wrist.

Moen's pupils contracted, but before he could make a move, Phils had already rushed over.

A golden-red flame suddenly ignited in her palm.

The flame wasn't large, but the aura it emitted sent a chill down the spines of everyone present.

That was the power of the gods, pure, warm, and imbued with an inviolable majesty.

Phils gently pressed the flame onto the boy's forehead.

The student's body stiffened abruptly the moment the flame touched his skin.

Wisps of black mist evaporated from the top of his head, and a few seconds later, he collapsed to the ground.

Phils withdrew her hand, panting heavily, her forehead covered in sweat.

"It's alright, he—should be awake now."

Soon, the student opened his eyes, looked around blankly, and his expression changed from confusion to fear, and then from fear to shame.

"I—I just—" He lowered his head, covering his face with his hands, "I'm sorry—I don't know what happened—"

"It's not your fault." Moen patted him on the shoulder. "Take a break and catch up with the group."

Phils gave a weak smile, her body swaying slightly. Moen quickly caught her shoulder.

"Phils? Do you want some...?"

"6

"I'm fine, just a little dizzy—" Phils shook her head. "Using the Holy Fire is more taxing than I expected—"

Moen stiffened, and Phils rested her head naturally on his shoulder, her hair brushing against his neck, making him feel a little itchy.

"Don't move, let me lean against you for a bit...zzZ"

She closed her eyes, and her breathing gradually calmed down.

The surrounding priests and students smiled slightly as they watched this scene.

"Ahem." Gregory cleared his throat and said in a businesslike tone, "Take a fifteen-minute break, then continue on."

Moen stood there expressionless, one hand on Phils's shoulder, the other in his pocket.

This was a rare moment of relaxation for the team members during the oppressive march.

Similar scenes played out repeatedly throughout the rest of the journey.

Every so often, someone will be corrupted by demonic power and lose their mind, frantically searching for anything they can eat.

Some people started grabbing snow and stuffing it into their mouths, some tore off their clothes and stuffed it into their mouths, and a few people almost got into a fight, biting each other and bleeding profusely.

Each time, it was Phils who used the sacred fire to help them regain their senses.

Each time, it consumes a great deal of her mental energy and magical power.

By the fifth time, her face was frighteningly pale, her forehead was covered in cold sweat, and her lips were bloodless.

"Phils," Moen reached out and put his hand on her shoulder, "you can't keep going like this."

"But—" Phils bit her lip, "they need help—"

"I know," Moen said calmly, "but if you fall first, who will save the others?"

Phils remained silent.

Moen is right.

Her magic power was limited, and each use of the Holy Fire drained her strength.

If this continues, she might completely exhaust herself before she can even seal the core.

But seeing the pained expressions on her teammates' faces, she couldn't remain indifferent.

"I have a solution."

Phils looked up at him.

"You only need to do one thing—keep the flame alive."

He paused, then continued, "As for the rest, leave it to me."

Phils nodded obediently.

Moen took the golden-red flame from her hand and held it in his palm.

The sacred fire resonated with the "Guardian Fire" in the Death Note.

He took a deep breath and infused his magic into the flames.

A golden-red light emanated from his palm and spread outwards, enveloping everyone in the group.

A warm power seeped into their bodies, dispelling the dark red, corrosive lines.

"This—" Gregory looked down at the fading lines on the back of his hand, his eyes filled with astonishment. "How did you do that?"

"Phils and I share a similar flame."

Moen gave a simple explanation.

"I see, youth is wonderful."

Gregory burst into laughter, which made Fils' ears turn red again.