Mr. Death in the Steam World

7:58 PM, Cathedral.

The cathedral was even more magnificent than Moen had imagined. The dome hung high, and the stained glass windows shimmered like jewels in the candlelight.

At the top of the steps, the bishop sat high on his chair, with a huge statue of a god behind him.

Below the steps, the priests, ministers, and vicars of the Kansas diocese had all arrived.

Moen stood in the most inconspicuous corner, leaning against a stone pillar with his arms crossed.

His gaze swept across the faces of the priests; some looked calm, some had shifty eyes, and some were silently praying with their lips moving.

However, he wasn't there to arrest traitors, nor was he interested in this internal church purge.

He came to join in the fun simply to observe the high-level divine magic the bishop was talking about.

"Clang—clang—clang—"

At eight o'clock sharp, eight chimes rang, each one more muffled and longer than the last.

The priests all looked up at the bishop at the top of the steps.

"I'm sure you all have a pretty good idea why I called you here tonight."

"In the afternoon, Priest Aldridge led his team to the West District on a mission, but they were ambushed en route. One person was killed and seven were wounded."

"As everyone knows, I've never liked beating around the bush, so I'll just say it straight—"

"There are traitors among us."

"I don't have time to interrogate them one by one, nor am I interested in hearing any explanations."

"Therefore, I will directly ask the gods for a judgment."

The bishop closed his eyes and began to recite a hymn.

At the same time, the statue behind him began to glow.

A blurry humanoid figure emerged from the stone statue, and the moment it completely detached itself from the statue, Moen saw a pair of wings.

Below the steps, the priests seemed to be under some kind of pressure, and they all knelt down.

For some reason, Moen felt nothing, but he knew he had to conform in this situation, so he also made a gesture to kneel.

But just then, a voice rang in his mind.

"Hmph, you're just an angel. Do you think you're worthy of making my representative kneel?"

The voice was cool and languid; Moen was already very familiar with this voice that had saved him from danger many times.

"You—" he asked in his mind, "Who are you?"

silence.

"You said I'm your proxy, what do you mean?"

silence.

"What did you mean by that just now? Even angels can't make me kneel? Who exactly am I?"

Dead silence.

Moen took a deep breath and suppressed the urge to curse.

It's the same old story. Every time, she just leaves with a nonsensical remark without giving any explanation. She's much harder to deal with than Clara.

He stopped asking questions and turned his attention back to the present moment.

The bishop's eulogy reached its climax.

The moment the last syllable fell, the angelic phantom raised its hand and pointed towards the bottom of the stairs.

A beam of pure white light shot from His fingertips, across the hall, and landed on someone.

Silvery-white flames erupted from that person, enveloping his entire body.

"ah--!!!"

A piercing scream shattered the silence of the cathedral. Firelight flickered in the center of the crowd, casting shifting shadows on everyone's faces.

Moen stood up, his gaze passing through the crowd to the person in the center of the flames.

"Herbert," the bishop began, his voice still calm, "I ask, you answer."

The man named Herbert struggled to lift his head amidst the sacred flame, the divine magic compelling him to speak freely.

"Were you the one passing the message over there?"

"Yes."

"Who ordered you to do this?"

"have no idea."

The flames suddenly shot up higher.

"I really don't know!" Herbert's voice trembled with tears.

"They only contacted me in a specific way. I didn't know their identities, I didn't know how many of them there were—I was just, just following orders..."

The bishop paused for two seconds, then asked his third question: "What have you done for them?"

"Aldridge...Aldridge's actions...I leaked it..."

The bishop looked at Herbert and remained silent for a long time; no one in the cathedral dared to utter a sound.

"Thirty years," the bishop finally spoke, his voice low and deep, as if speaking to Herbert, yet also to everyone else, "You've followed me for thirty years."

Herbert didn't speak; he was speechless.

The sacred flame suddenly blazed brightly.

Soon, only a small clump of grayish-white powder remained on the spot, which was swept up by the wind and dissipated into the air.

The bishop turned around and looked at the priests kneeling and trembling on the ground below the steps.

"Brothers, this is not personal revenge, this is a war."

"The fact that they were able to plant spies within our ranks, obtain our action plans in advance, and lay an ambush in the West District shows that they are not a mob."

"But similarly, the fact that they chose to ambush rather than confront us head-on shows that they were not confident of winning against us in a direct confrontation."

"Everyone, prepare for battle! Tonight at 11 PM, we depart for the West District... Priest Aldridge!"

"exist."

"You're leading the team; you're most familiar with the terrain of the western district."

Arthur nodded.

"Mr. Marcus."

The bishop looked at Moen.

"The information you brought back has been a great help to us. We shouldn't put you in any more danger, but you were the first to discover the location of the ritual, and we need your help."

"If you're willing to stay and help us, the church will naturally offer thanks afterward; if you're not—"

"I'll stay."

Moen did not hesitate; he had long been prepared to go into battle.

The bishop nodded slightly, without saying anything more.

The doors of the cathedral were pushed open, and the priests filed out, their footsteps fading into the distance under the porch.

After the crowd dispersed, Moen prepared to leave. He had no need to go home and was just thinking of wandering around the church when Arthur called him back.

"Marcus, why did you agree to the bishop's request?"

His expression was very serious.

"I can sense that there is no magical energy emanating from you; you are just an ordinary person."

"Even if you have some tricks up your sleeve, you're nothing against members of the society with superhuman powers."

Moen looked at Arthur with some surprise, not expecting Arthur to advise him not to go.

"Thank you for your kindness, Mr. Arthur. I am indeed an ordinary person, but... you know that."

"Fils and I recently solved a case, and in that incident, I obtained something amazing."

He winked at Arthur, who frowned and thought for a moment, then suddenly opened his eyes wide:

"You mean, you have...?"

Moen nodded:

"As you expected, Mr. Arthur, I am capable of protecting myself."

Arthur opened his mouth, but in the end he sighed, turned around, and his back looked somewhat lonely.

Looking at him, Moen hesitated before speaking:

"Mr. Arthur, if anything unexpected happens during the battle, you can run towards me. Maybe I can lend you a hand."

"You? Just an ordinary person?"

This joke, which wasn't really a joke, successfully made Arthur laugh, dispelling some of the gloomy atmosphere around him.

Seeing this, Moen didn't say anything more, and Arthur immediately began to organize his equipment.

Finally, the clock struck 11 p.m., and the operation began.