Mr. Death in the Steam World

Arthur was the first to straighten up, took out a small silver cross badge from his pocket, placed it on his lap, closed his eyes, and began to pray softly.

That badge was a token used to communicate with the church; Moen had seen him use it a few times.

A silvery-white light emanated from the surface of the badge and slowly rose along Arthur's fingertips.

A moment later, he opened his eyes, and the light disappeared.

"It's been reported." Arthur put the badge back in his pocket, his tone calm. "I explained the situation to His Holiness the Bishop, including the identity of the candidate for the Executor and the possible movements of Sidwin Ashton."

"His Excellency the Bishop does not object to us taking the initiative in principle, but he has also made it clear that the Church will not directly use force to suppress secular forces like the Ashton family."

"As expected." Moen nodded.

"However," Arthur paused, a meaningful glint in his eyes, "His Holiness the Bishop gave me one more instruction."

He said that if other forces, such as the "Truth Society," were involved in this incident, or if the situation truly deteriorated to a certain point, the church would immediately dispatch high-level combat personnel to oversee the situation.

"At least two bishops of the fifth rank or above will be present in person, and they may even contact the church headquarters to request higher-level support."

Arthur smiled.

"Phils, you are the first person the Church of this Era knows who is related to the Agent. You can't imagine how shocked His Holiness the Bishop was just now."

"The Truth Society?" Moen keenly caught the word. "Didn't we already take down that society?"

"They only took down the core members of the Kansas City branch," Arthur corrected.

"The Truth Society's tentacles extend throughout the kingdom and even beyond its borders; their philosophy is 'Knowledge knows no bounds, power has no limits.'"

In other words, they are not afraid to touch any force that can make them stronger.

"Demons, forbidden arts, relics of gods—they are nothing but tools to them."

He turned his head and looked at Phils.

"You should know how many people will covet the power of the Proxy, Ignis."

"Even if you are not ultimately chosen by Vulcan, as long as your candidate status is exposed, those societies will swarm around you like sharks smelling blood."

"So from now on, your safety is the team's top priority."

Phils stared at him blankly, then nodded vigorously.

After agreeing on a meeting place and time with the three, Moen turned and walked towards the office.

Before leaving, he needed to say a proper goodbye to Clara.

When I pushed open the door to the office, the living room was lit by warm yellow candlelight.

Clara nestled on the sofa, holding a half-read book, "Basic Geometry," while Lucy curled up on her lap like a ball of dark fur, her tail tip swishing gently.

Hearing the door open, Clara looked up, her light brown eyes lighting up.

"Brother! You're back!"

She put down her book, jumped off the sofa, ran barefoot to Moen, looked up at him carefully, and only after confirming that he didn't have any strange wounds did she breathe a sigh of relief and smile.

"Was this mission difficult? Did you encounter any danger?"

"It's alright, not too difficult." Moen reached out and patted her head.

"And you? Have you been eating well at home these past few days? Have you been keeping up with your studies?"

"Of course not!" Clara nodded vigorously. "Mr. Baker came to visit my home the day before yesterday and even praised me for solving geometry problems faster than all the boys in the class."

Moen smiled, his gaze sweeping over the open book of "Basic Geometry" on the coffee table, and the neatly stacked exercise books beside it. This girl really never needed him to worry about her.

He sat down on the sofa, hesitated for a moment, and then spoke.

"Clara, there's something I need to tell you."

"What is it?"

"I have to go out again later."

Clara paused for a moment.

"Didn't you just get back?" Her voice unconsciously rose a little. "How long will you be gone this time?"

"It's hard to say. It could take three to five days at the fastest, or more than a week at the slowest," Moen said truthfully.

"I'm going to help your sister Phils with something. She's run into some trouble and needs some help."

"Is that the lady with the silver-white hair from last time?"

"right."

Clara was silent for a few seconds, looked down at her fingers, and then nodded gently.

"...Okay." She looked up, forcing a smile. "Then be careful and come back soon."

"I promise." Looking at her, clearly disappointed yet pretending everything was alright, Moen felt a mix of emotions welling up inside him.

"Also—this is for you."

He took a few gold pounds out of his pocket, placed them on the coffee table, and pushed them in front of her.

"While I'm away, the usual rules apply: take good care of yourself, and use this money wisely, don't be stingy."

Clara looked at the gold pounds, but instead of reaching for them, she suddenly stood up and ran into her room.

"Brother, then take this with you."

It was a small sachet, sewn from scraps of light blue cloth. The stitches were crooked, and in some places the thread was wrong and had to be taken apart and started over.

A thin hemp rope was tied to the opening of the sachet, which was bulging inside, as if it were stuffed with a small ball of cotton.

Moen took it, and the moment his fingertips touched the sachet, a very faint warmth emanated from it.

"this……"

"This is Lucy's fur," Clara said, rubbing her fingers together a little shyly.

"I saw that Mr. Baker's family kept cats like that before. The cat's fur can protect the family members who are away from home."

"But I don't know how to make sachets, and they don't sew very well, so Lucy isn't too happy—"

As she spoke, she glanced in Lucy's direction. The black cat was lying on the sofa armrest in an extremely tired posture, its tail drooping listlessly, its amber eyes saying, "Don't ask me why."

Moen put the sachet into his pocket and nodded solemnly.

"Thank you, Clara. Remember when I said I'd come back to teach you magic? I'll definitely keep my word this time."

"When I get back this time, the first thing I'll do is teach you magic."

"real?"

"real."

Clara broke into a big smile.

Moen stood up, rubbed her head one last time, glanced at the black cat on the sofa that had been plucked so badly it seemed to question its very existence, then turned and pushed open the door, stepping into the morning light.

Lucy's ears twitched the moment the door closed.

It raised its eyelids, and in its amber pupils, it reflected the departing figure of Moen. After a long while, it buried its head back into its paws.

"Meow."

The cat sighed. The cat was very tired. The cat didn't want to say anything.

Making this protective sachet took so much of my fur! Moen, you better take it easy!