Mr. Death in the Steam World

Agent?

Fils finally heard a word she could understand.

Agent, God’s agent.

She had learned this concept in her Basic Theology class at the college.

In the mythological era, each chief god would choose an agent in the mortal realm to serve as their representative and vessel of power on earth.

The agents possess power directly bestowed by the gods, hold a high status, and can even be equal to the archbishops of the divine church.

But that was thousands of years ago.

After the gods departed, the succession of the agents was completely interrupted.

All existing documents agree that the system of agents has become a thing of the past with the end of the Age of Gods.

But now, a real god is standing before her—no, sitting before her—and telling her that she is to become a candidate?

"Agent..." the woman murmured, repeating the word over and over, her voice trembling slightly.

This was the first time Phils had heard her speak.

"My lord, what are the contents of the ceremony? What do we need to do to gain your approval?"

Hesfield remained silent.

The flames in the temple suddenly surged violently, and the temperature soared many times over in an instant.

Phils felt as if her spirit had been thrown into a furnace, with a burning sensation coming from all directions, making even breathing an ordeal.

Then, He spoke.

"No matter what means you use, whether it's killing each other or exchanging benefits, in the end, there will only be one agent."

These words were like a bucket of ice water poured over her head, completely extinguishing the budding curiosity and expectation in Fils' heart.

Fighting each other?

She suddenly turned her head to look at the two figures beside her.

The man remained kneeling on one knee, motionless, while the woman staggered back a step.

Fils opened her mouth, as if to say something.

She didn't want to be any kind of proxy.

She was just a second-tier magician, an ordinary student struggling to earn her practical credits.

Her goal was to graduate smoothly and enter the executive department of St. Alice or stay on to teach, rather than compete with two complete strangers for the position of Vulcan's Agent.

Before she could speak, Hesfield raised a hand made of flames.

"The time has come, retreat."

His tone was as calm as if he were announcing the end of today's assembly.

"etc--!"

Phils reached out as if to grab something, but everything in front of her had already begun to collapse.

The temple's dome, walls, floor, the ever-burning flame, and the colossal statue—everything shattered in the same instant.

She felt as if an invisible giant hand had grabbed the back of her collar and pulled her backward.

The wind whistled in my ears, my consciousness churned in the darkness, and finally—

She opened her eyes.

Above me was a white ceiling, a familiar decor—this was the church.

Phils blinked and tried to move her body, but all she felt was soreness in her muscles.

"Well……"

She struggled to sit up, but her arms were too weak, and she fell back onto the pillow after only managing to prop herself up halfway.

"Oh, Miss Ignis, you're finally awake!"

A familiar voice came from beside the bed.

Phils blinked, adjusting to the light streaming in from the window, her gaze slowly shifting from the ceiling to the bedside, landing on Moen.

"Mr. Marcus, how long have I been unconscious?"

"It's been a day and a night, and it's now the second morning, around nine o'clock."

He was sitting on a wooden chair by the bed, his eyes revealing a mixture of surprise and exhaustion.

Phils stared blankly at Moen, then suddenly looked away.

She was unconscious for a day and a night.

And this guy probably kept watch for a day and a night.

Phils pursed her lips, a sudden, indescribable bitterness welling up in her chest.

"Mr. Marcus."

"Um?"

"Thank you. Also... I think I've gotten myself into a really troublesome situation."

Moen didn't respond, but waited for her to continue.

Phil closed her eyes and recounted everything she had experienced in the consciousness space.

The appearance of Vulcan, the identity of the candidate, that man whose confidence was so overwhelming it was annoying, that timid woman, and Hesfield's last words.

There can only be one agent.

As she spoke, her voice carried a hint of grievance and indignation.

"I don't care about being an agent. I didn't beg Him to choose me; He pulled me into that place himself. Why should I start by saying we should kill each other?"

"And they kicked me out without even asking if I wanted to. What kind of nonsense is this?"

She got angrier and angrier as she talked, and finally punched the blanket hard.

"It hurts, it hurts, it hurts..."

Moen reached out and pressed down on her flailing arms, waiting for her to calm down before speaking:

"So, you were just selected as a candidate, but you don't necessarily have to become the proxy, right?"

"Of course," Phils scoffed. "I didn't promise Him anything."

"That makes things easier," Moen said calmly. "Just pretend nothing happened."

Phils stared at him with wide, somewhat bewildered eyes.

What do you mean by "just pretend nothing happened"?

Moen smiled slightly:

"The Vulcan neither told you the content of the ceremony nor the identities of the other candidates, and left you to compete on your own. It's clear that he's giving you two paths."

"The first method is to make a fortune quietly and complete the ceremony before everyone else."

"The second option is to eliminate all competitors and automatically become the winner."

"Since you don't want to be an agent, it's simple. Just wait for the man and woman you mentioned to come to you."

As he said this, a cold glint flashed in his eyes:

"Of course, to protect ourselves, it would be best to know their identities beforehand and eliminate them first."

Phils twitched her lips.

Didn't we agree to pretend nothing happened? How come in just a few words it sounds like you're trying to drag me into murder?

However, she could naturally tell that Moen's words made sense. Rather than sitting and waiting to die, worrying about being attacked, it was better to strike first and at least confirm the other party's whereabouts.

At that moment, Emily also rushed into the room.

"Little Feifei! How are you? Does it hurt? Is anything strange?"

Looking at Emily, who was rambling on and on, Phils admitted that she was actually quite happy.

After a while, Arthur, having finished what he was doing, also came over.

Phils briefly explained the whole story, somewhat embarrassed.

After all, the whole thing started because she carelessly read out the runes on the stone slab; otherwise, things wouldn't have turned out this way.

But Arthur just laughed it off; they were all in the same group, and as long as everyone was alright, that was fine.

He took out the crystal that had fallen from the stone figure earlier and slowly spoke.