Mr. Death in the Steam World

Arthur turned around abruptly.

Behind him, a beam of light and shadow was slowly receding, the light and shadow resembling a shattered mirror, each fragment reflecting a different scene.

Moen stood right in the center of the mirror.

"you……"

Arthur's eyes reflected Morn's image, and his expression shifted several times in a few seconds before settling on a look of relief.

He lowered the long sword in his hand.

"...It's good that you're not dead, Marcus, it's good that you're not dead."

His voice was a little hoarse, and Moen vaguely sensed that a force that was about to burst forth from Arthur's body had been suppressed again.

Just then, a loud roar came from deep within the warehouse.

A blast of air erupted from the warehouse door, shaking the ground beneath everyone's feet.

The bishop stood at the front of the procession, his expression even more solemn than before.

"That guy is accelerating the ritual; we can't let him continue like this."

"Priest Aldridge, the outside is yours."

Before he finished speaking, the bishop's figure had already transformed into a golden streak of light and rushed straight into the warehouse.

The warehouse door slammed shut as he entered, and a blood-red light shone through the cracks, turning the entire wasteland into a scene of purgatory.

The magicians on the other side immediately became agitated.

"Don't let them disturb the mentor!"

The woman who had been talking with her companion outside the warehouse screamed, a dark green flame coalescing in her hand.

"Send some men back to provide support!"

Don't even think about it.

Arthur stepped forward, blocking the warehouse door from the group of magicians, his longsword gleaming silver in the moonlight.

"Your opponent is us."

The magicians exchanged a glance, and then launched their attack simultaneously.

The scene instantly descended into chaos.

Moen had no time to pay attention to Arthur's situation, because a magician had already locked onto him.

He was a tall, thin man with a black bone spur between his fingers, gleaming with an ominous light.

"A mere mortal without even magic dares to get involved in this kind of fun?"

The tall, thin man let out a disdainful sneer.

"You're lucky you didn't die from that attack from your mentor, but your luck has run out."

Bone spikes came hurtling through the air.

Moen dodged to the side, the bone spurs grazing his shoulder and embedding themselves in the broken wall behind him.

He drew the Webley revolver from its holster, raised the muzzle, and pulled the trigger—the whole movement was fluid and graceful.

The bullet whistled towards the tall, thin man's face, but he merely raised his hand dismissively, and a semi-transparent black barrier unfolded in front of him, deflecting the bullet.

"That's it?" the tall, thin man sneered. "A mere mortal's weapon, and you dare to embarrass yourself with it—"

His words came to an abrupt halt as Moen appeared to his left.

The explosive power granted by "Meow's Swiftness" allowed Moen to change position the instant he pulled the trigger. The tall, thin man's barrier could stop the bullet, but it couldn't stop the gun butt that came crashing down from the side.

He took a solid hit and staggered back two steps.

Moen distanced himself from him again and gave him an international friendly gesture.

"I am indeed a mortal, but mortals also have their own methods of fighting!"

The two fought for five or six minutes, but neither could gain the upper hand.

Although "Meow's Swiftness" and "Mouse's Dexterity" give Moen the upper hand in close combat, having the upper hand is one thing, and defeating him is another.

The opponent possessed magical protection, ranged attack capabilities, and strange spells he had never seen before.

His attack methods are too simplistic; relying solely on a revolver makes it difficult to truly end the fight.

But... he is not alone.

A flash of sword light appeared behind the man.

He looked down and saw a silver-white sword tip protruding from his chest, holy light flowing across the blade, purifying the demonic power within him.

He opened his mouth as if to say something, but only managed a muffled breath before collapsing limply to the ground.

"Sorry to keep you waiting," he said.

Moen shook his head and moved his left arm, which was gradually regaining sensation.

"You've come at the perfect time."

Arthur glanced at the tall, thin man on the ground, then looked at Moen.

"For a mortal like you to last this long is already beyond my expectations, but—"

He paused, his tone becoming serious.

"You should have sensed it too, Marcus. You have good physical abilities and quick reflexes, but you lack the decisive finishing move."

"You might be fine dealing with low-level henchmen, but you'll suffer when you encounter a truly powerful opponent."

Moen had to admit that Arthur was right.

If he can escape unscathed this time, he must find Arthur and Phils and ask them how to become a magician.

No, there are no ifs. He would have definitely escaped unscathed.

Just as Moen made up his mind, the battle situation around him was also quietly changing.

Although the church's priests were outnumbered, they were well-trained and worked together as seamlessly as a single unit.

A combat monk raised his shield to block the attack, and the priest beside him immediately cast a blessing on him;

A priest casts a divine spell to suppress the enemy, and the archers behind him seize the opportunity to fire enchanted arrows.

In contrast, the magicians in the society, although their methods were bizarre and varied, mostly fought their own battles and lacked cooperation. As the church members worked together to advance, they gradually fell into a disadvantageous position.

The balance of power is tilting in favor of the church.

Just then, a loud bang came from deep inside the warehouse.

Immediately afterwards, an unprecedented divine aura surged out from the warehouse.

The aura was so intense that it transformed into a towering, silvery-white pillar of light, ripping the roof off the entire warehouse.

Arthur gazed at the pillar of light and murmured:

"Your Excellency, the spiritual realm has been activated."

He whirled around and shouted at the priests behind him who were still fighting the remaining magicians:

"Everyone! Abandon your current objective! Charge with me!"

Without any hesitation, the priests swiftly repelled their opponents and converged towards the warehouse gate.

But soon, they lost their reason to move forward—

Because the warehouse no longer exists.

The young man's wild laughter rang in everyone's ears, and at the same time, a jet-black beam of light rose up from the ground next to the silver-white beam of light.

The collision of the two beams of light was so intense that the entire warehouse collapsed with a roar.

When the smoke cleared, all that could be seen was the bishop, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth, standing there panting, and the young man, calm and composed with a smile on his face.

The bishop looked desperate and muttered to himself:

"The demon has appeared in the world."

Behind the young man, a doorway slowly materialized, and the heartbeat grew faster and stronger.

He opened his arms wide to the door, his face filled with ecstasy, as if embracing the whole world.

"Finally, after years of hard work, the day has finally come!"

"For you, I sacrificed my parents, my wife, my children, my friends, my neighbors..."

"Now you've finally arrived! The legendary demon, my servant, my..."

The conversation abruptly ended.

An arm reached out from behind the door, easily piercing his chest and grasping his heart.

A sarcastic voice slowly rang out:

"You mean, servants?"