Mr. Death in the Steam World

Moen looked up at the night sky.

The clouds were thick, the night was dark and the wind was high—perfect for a killing.

The priests held kerosene lamps, their orange glow shimmering in the abandoned alleyways.

He walked at the back of the group, his fingers always resting on the revolver at his waist.

The black threads converged from all directions, as if something was greedily breathing, turning the city's vitality into nourishment and continuously absorbing it.

The news that the traitor had been burned to ashes by the holy fire could not be kept from the enemy for long, but none of that mattered anymore.

Such a massive ceremony, with such an intricate network of magic, could not possibly be moved at a moment's notice.

Even if the other side knew they were coming, they had no choice but to grit their teeth and stay here.

The air was heavy with tension. No one spoke in the group; the only sound was the rustling of boots grinding against the gravel.

Suddenly, Moen's ears twitched slightly.

A whooshing sound rang out, as if something had ripped through the night wind and was rapidly approaching from afar.

"Arthur!"

Before Moen could finish speaking, a black arrow shot out from nothingness, skimming down the broken wall on the left side of the alley, aiming straight for Arthur's throat.

Arthur stepped back to the side, drew his sword with his right hand, and raised it upwards, the spine of the blade just barely deflecting the arrow's trajectory.

"Enemy attack!"

A combat cultivator in the front row shouted loudly.

Before the words were even finished, a barrage of black arrows rained down from the night sky.

"A trivial skill."

The bishop snorted and slammed his staff heavily to the ground.

A ring of pale golden ripples spread out from the landing point, rising into a spherical barrier that enveloped the entire team.

The black arrows landed on the barrier, making a dense hissing sound.

The bishop maintained the barrier, his expression gradually becoming serious.

These black arrows weren't some profound magic trick; they were just a crude trick of condensing demonic power into a solid form and shooting it out, but there were simply too many of them.

No, upon closer inspection, the other party was most likely trying to stall for time and prevent them from getting close to the warehouse.

"Don't linger, full speed ahead!"

Seeing that their presence had been discovered, the bishop gave an order, and the troops immediately switched to a charge formation and ran at full speed toward the warehouse.

Soon, the outline of the warehouse began to appear in the distance.

Just one day later, the building was completely different from when Moen first arrived.

The iron sheeting on the exterior wall was covered with blood-red lines, like exposed blood vessels.

The warehouse door was ajar, and a dark red light shone through the crack.

The priests stopped in their tracks and quickly lined up in front of the warehouse door.

Everyone expected dozens of magicians to emerge from behind the door, but to their surprise, the warehouse door was empty, without even a single guard.

A deathly silence enveloped the wasteland.

Then, a round of applause broke out.

The applause was slow and steady, one, two, three times, and it was particularly jarring in the quiet night.

The warehouse door slowly opened, and the dark red light shining through the cracks widened as the door moved.

A person emerged from the light.

He was an extremely young man, looking no more than twenty years old, even younger than Moen.

He wore a well-tailored black robe, had a handsome face, and wore a polite and restrained smile.

"Welcome to my coronation ceremony, friends of the church."

He bowed with a smile, his movements elegant and meticulous, as if he were thanking an audience in an opera house.

In the somber atmosphere, his behavior seemed particularly strange.

The priests looked at each other, none of them daring to make a move.

The bishop took a step forward.

"Who are you?"

The young man straightened up, tilted his head, and seemed to be thinking about the question.

"Who am I? That's a good question."

"To those who give me power, I am an apostle; to my followers, I am a mentor; and to you—"

He paused, then his smile deepened.

"I am the Lord of Demons, but you do not need to know my name."

"Anyway, you're all going to die soon."

The moment the words left his mouth, a deep, muffled thud came from the depths of the warehouse.

The sound was like a giant heart contracting, or like a large drum being struck from the inside.

Everyone's heartbeats resonated with that thump at the same instant.

Moen felt a sudden jolt in his chest. Although as a dead man, he did not rely on the beating of his heart to survive, the living people around him were not so lucky.

A slender combat cultivator bent over and vomited a mouthful of blood, his shield clattering to the ground.

He struggled to stand up again, but a second throbbing came, and he collapsed, blood spilling from his seven orifices.

"Hold on tight!"

The bishop shouted and struck the ground with his staff again. The golden barrier rose up once more, though it could not completely block the pulsating power, it at least weakened its impact.

Even so, more than half of the priests in the group were pale and their foreheads were covered in cold sweat.

"Are you all satisfied with the sound of my servants' heartbeats?"

The young man was still smiling, a smile that looked terrifying in the blood-red light.

"Well then, I have urgent business to attend to, so I'll take my leave first."

He waved his hand, and many magicians emerged from the warehouse one after another. Although most of them were only at the first level, their numbers made up for it.

The magicians walked step by step toward the church, seemingly completely unaffected by the demon's heartbeat.

The young man took two steps back and suddenly snapped his fingers.

"Oh, I almost forgot, before I leave, please allow me to clean up a... somewhat unruly little mouse on the stage."

His gaze passed over the priests who were on high alert and landed on Moen at the back of the group.

"Sir," he tilted his head slightly, his tone carrying a hint of sincerity.

"Did you enjoy listening to what I had outside my warehouse the night before? I'm curious how an ordinary person who hasn't even explored a magic loop found this place."

Before he finished speaking, he raised a finger, and at the tip of his finger, a dense darkness began to condense.

Moen's pupils suddenly contracted. He couldn't dodge or block this attack!

At this moment, the only thing he could believe was—

A beam of darkness shot straight out, instantly transforming into a pillar of light that mercilessly engulfed the area where Moen was.

When the darkness dissipated, Moen had vanished without a trace.

"Marcus—!!"

Arthur's pupils instantly became bloodshot.

In his spiritual vision, Moen's life force vanished completely in that instant.

That clever, mysterious, and always calm young detective... just like that, he died?

"It seems the little mouse has been eliminated."

The young man leisurely withdrew his finger, as if he had merely plucked a speck of dust.

Arthur let out a low growl and swung his longsword, unleashing a beam of holy light, but the beam vanished on its own before it could even reach the young man.

The young man sneered and disappeared completely into the warehouse, vanishing without a trace.

"Calm down, Arthur. Look at that attack he just made; it was at least a fifth-tier attack."

"He's left it to me; you guys just need to deal with the smaller fry."

The bishop patted Arthur on the shoulder. Arthur gritted his teeth, his anger swelling within him.

I brought Marcus out; I killed Marcus.

Father, mother, sister, Thomas, and now even Marcus is dead.

Twelve years have passed, and I still can't protect anything.

"Yes, yes, that's it! Let the darkness within swell, and tear them apart with my power!"

In his mind, the demon was shouting with joy.

Just as Arthur was about to be consumed by anger, another hand patted his shoulder.

"Hey, Arthur, wake up."

"Your final payment hasn't been settled yet, and I won't die until then."