Mr. Death in the Steam World

No matter how tempting the power offered by the demons may be, that blood-stained night will never fade from Arthur's memory.

He knew very well that every time he used the power of the devil, he would inevitably turn a little more towards the devil.

The power of the devil is not a tool, but a poison.

Each invocation leaves a mark on his soul, and when the mark accumulates to a certain critical point, he will no longer be Arthur Aldridge, but merely another shell of a demon on earth.

This is a tug-of-war that has lasted for twelve years. He can barely hold on for now, but he doesn't know how much longer he can hold on.

Arthur closed his eyes, trying to stop thinking about these discouraging issues.

While future crises are important, the difficulties at hand are even more pressing.

Although he rejected the devil's advice, the problem He pointed out did exist.

He needs intelligence.

Without intelligence, he could only be led by the nose, running around the hospital treating one patient after another, while the festering sore at its source continued to fester and spread in some corner of the West District.

We must find the source.

Arthur stood up and walked to the map of Kansas City hanging on the wall.

This is a hand-drawn map on parchment. The scale isn't very precise, but every main street and important building is clearly marked.

He slowly moved his index finger along the street network of the West End.

The power of the demons will not appear out of thin air and envelop the entire city; it needs an anchor point, a way to distribute the power evenly.

If, as he suspected, someone orchestrated all of this, they must have arranged some kind of ritual in the city.

Regardless of the opponent's purpose, destroying the node of the ritual will block the transmission of demonic power.

At that time, the source will naturally be exposed.

But he also had official duties to perform; he was a priest in the church, and every day he had a lot of paperwork, report writing, and routine inspection tasks.

This afternoon, I squeezed in some time to help out at the hospital, and tomorrow morning I have to attend a meeting about a "summary of recent unusual events".

Ironically, the pandemic that was spreading right under his nose was unlikely to be on the agenda of that meeting.

It would be a pipe dream for him to conduct the investigation alone.

"I need more manpower."

Arthur looked at the map and came to this conclusion.

But he cannot use people from the church.

If, as he suspected, someone had covered up the matter right under the church's nose, then there must be informants within the church—or even the participants themselves.

Using church personnel is tantamount to writing one's intentions on a bulletin board.

He needs a pair of hands that the church cannot see.

Arthur pulled open the bottom drawer of his desk, where a brown paper envelope lay.

He turned the envelope upside down, and the contents clattered onto the table.

A few crumpled banknotes, a few gold pounds, and a small pile of pennies.

All together, it's barely enough to hire a second-rate detective for three days.

"..."

Arthur stared at the pile of money for a few seconds, then turned the envelope over and shook it. Another copper coin fell out, bounced twice on the table, spun around, and stopped.

He reached out and pushed it into that small pile.

The church has always been stingy with its funding, and his trust rating within the church has been hovering around the passing mark for years, meaning he can only apply for 30% less funding for activities than an ordinary priest.

After deducting basic expenses and tuition fees for correspondence courses each month, this is all that's left.

But he needs someone who can run through every street and every building in the West End to find those possible ritual nodes.

This person needs to be perceptive enough to notice details that ordinary people miss.

They need to be reliable enough not to take the money and run, or to come up with some random addresses to fool him—and preferably cheap enough too.

After pondering for a moment, he couldn't think of a suitable candidate, so he called out towards the door.

Gary.

A short while later, a young man dressed in a novice priest's robe pushed open the door and came in.

His name is Gary Miller. He was a trainee who was assigned to the seminary last year. He was twenty-three years old, with a round face and round-framed glasses on his nose, making him look like a college student who had not yet graduated.

But Arthur knew he was a reliable boy, and in the entire church, he was the only one willing to take on the odd jobs assigned by Arthur without showing any reluctance.

"Priest Arthur, did you call me?"

"Hmm." Arthur pushed the money on the table towards him. "Find someone for me."

"Who is it?"

"A detective," Arthur said, "cheap and reputable."

"This money is enough to hire him for a few days, let him go to the West District, do a thorough search, and look for anything that seems amiss."

"Cellations, attics, abandoned buildings, sewer entrances... anything that seems strange to him, he can mark it down."

Gary stared at the pile of loose coins, his mouth agape.

"Priest Arthur, with this little money, the detectives you can hire might be limited..."

"That's why I sent you to find it." Arthur picked up his teacup, took a sip, and

"Cheap and reliable are often mutually exclusive, but if you're lucky, you can always find a newcomer who has just opened a business, urgently needs a good reputation, and is willing to take jobs at low prices."

He paused, then added, "Remember, don't go for the most famous ones; the famous ones don't lack money."

Gary scratched his head, picked up the money on the table one by one, and carefully put it back into the envelope.

"I'll go and inquire first thing tomorrow morning."

"Let's go tonight."

Gary paused for a moment, looked at the dark night outside the window, then at Arthur's expression, and, confirming that he wasn't joking, could only nod resignedly.

"Then...where should I begin?"

Arthur thought for a moment.

"I remember there were a few newly opened shops in the area between Second Street and Third Street."

"A newly opened store means new merchants, and new merchants mean they may know all sorts of newcomers to the industry, so go ask around in that area."

Gary responded and turned to leave. But as he reached the door, he suddenly stopped, turned back, and hesitated for a moment.

"Priest Arthur".

"Um?"

"This afternoon, I heard some rumors," Gary said, lowering his voice.

Some say this plague is the "beginning of calamity" foretold in the oracle, while others say it's a sign that the gods are about to return to the world.

Arthur paused slightly in the hand holding the teacup.

Do you believe it?

Gary scratched his head, a look of confusion appearing on his round face.

"I don't know. But many people in the church are saying, even some of the older monks are discussing, that the date prophesied in the oracle is approaching and something big will happen on earth."

Arthur was silent for a few seconds, then gently put down his teacup.

"Gary, remember one thing."

His grey-green eyes looked calmly at the young novice priest.

"Whether the gods return or not, the suffering of those patients lying in hospitals coughing is real."

"A priest's duty is not to guess the intentions of God, but to alleviate the suffering of those before him; as for the rest, time will provide the answers."

Gary paused for a moment, then nodded vigorously and pushed the door open to leave.

The sound of the door closing echoed softly in the quiet room.

Arthur sipped his tea, which had gone completely cold, and looked out the window at the sky.

The night was as dark as ink, and even the moonlight was completely obscured by the clouds.

The glow of the gas lamps spread out in the mist, like lost fireflies.

The days in the oracle.

Of course he knew that prophecy; everyone who has ever been in the church knows it.

Ancient texts record that when the long-dormant son of God awakens, when the power of demons reappears on earth, and when the greed of mortals intertwines with extraordinary power to form the prelude to calamity—that is the sign of the gods' return to earth.

If you do the math carefully, the time is indeed almost up.

If this is truly a signal of their return, what will become of humanity, which no longer depends on them?

Magicians replaced pure spirit with magic, the church replaced God's guidance with systems and rules, and ordinary people found a new faith in steam and steel.

The gods have been gone for so long that the world can no longer make room for them.

He shook his head.

Anyway, he was just an ordinary priest.

Where the tide of history is headed, and what does that have to do with him?

"Oh? Is that really so, Arthur?"

The demon's voice rang out again, this time with undisguised laughter.

"Shut up, you devil."