Mr. Death in the Steam World

Sidwin Ashton stood there, wearing a well-tailored coat.

His hands were behind his back, and a nonchalant smile played on his lips.

Several miners were clearing a rock face in front of him with picks and crowbars, and rubble and slag kept falling off the rock face, hitting the ground with a dull thud.

There seems to be something hidden behind the rock wall.

As the miners cleared the rock, ancient and intricate engravings began to appear on the surface of the rock wall, resembling some kind of long-lost script.

"Dig a little deeper," a woman's voice suddenly rang out.

The hood covered most of his face, leaving only a pale, pointed chin visible.

Her hands were tucked into her sleeves, one holding an open notebook and the other a quill pen, its tip hovering above the paper as if she were writing something down.

The miners sped up.

The air grew hot and dry, and the temperature deep inside the mine had unknowingly climbed to an uncomfortable level.

Moen could feel those rough hands trembling slightly.

There was no loud noise, no explosion.

The runes on the rock wall lit up at the same time, and dark red light surged from the engravings like magma, illuminating the entire mine tunnel as if it were daytime.

A miner screamed, threw down his pickaxe, and ran back.

Before he could run two steps, a ball of flame flew out from the rock wall and landed lightly on his back.

The flames burst forth silently, and the miner was engulfed before he could even scream.

His body rapidly shrank, twisted, and deformed in the flames; his skin turned into gray-black crystals, and his bones crackled and popped under the high temperature.

In just a few breaths, a living person was transformed into a kneeling human statue.

Then came the second, and the third.

The miners screamed and scattered in all directions, but the flames, like living hunters, shot out one after another from the rock wall, landing precisely on each fleeing person.

Screams echoed through the mine shafts, and the air was filled with the smell of burning flesh.

Then, a ball of flame appeared in front of him.

......

Sidwin still wore that nonchalant smile.

"Seal off the mine tunnels."

The image froze at that moment, then was swallowed by endless darkness.

Moen suddenly opened his eyes.

He knelt beside the remains, his right hand tightly gripping the brass mining lamp. He and Arthur had somehow retreated to the edge of the stone chamber.

Meanwhile, the dark red magic seeped from every crevice in the rock wall, slowly condensing, coalescing, and deforming in the air like mist, eventually transforming into several fire mayflies.

They are about the size of a palm, with dark red flames burning along the edges of their transparent wings, leaving a thin trail of fire in the air with each flap of their wings.

They fell from the sky, just like the flames I had just seen in my memory, and landed on the desperate miners.

Now, their targets are Moen and Arthur.

Arthur reacted extremely quickly, raising his right hand the instant the fire mayfly took shape, his index and middle fingers together to draw a cross in front of his chest.

A silvery-white holy light suddenly shone from beneath his feet, transforming into a hemispherical barrier that enveloped the two of them.

The first fire mayfly crashed into the barrier, letting out a sharp screech. The fire lines on its wings rubbed violently against the holy light, scattering large amounts of silver-red sparks.

"There are too many," Arthur's voice was very serious. "The Holy Light Barrier won't last long."

Moen stood up, drew the Webberly Revolver from his waist with his left hand, and gathered magic power in his right palm.

Give me three seconds.

He infused magic into the "Eye of Death".

The body structure of the fire mayflies became clearer in their field of vision; at their core was a fist-sized ball of dark red flame.

"Their core is right in the center of their chest cavity," Moen said, pointing his revolver at the nearest fire mayfly outside the barrier.

"It'll be too slow for you to fight alone. You control them, and I'll take them down one by one."

"Is it possible?"

"Give it a try."

Upon hearing this, Arthur waved his hand, and holy light transformed into six silver chains that bound the wings of the six fire mayflies.

Moen pulled the trigger.

The bullet, imbued with compressed magic, flew out of the barrel and struck a fire mayfly with pinpoint accuracy. The bullet pierced its core, and the mayfly let out a short hiss before exploding into a cloud of sparks and falling to the ground.

Then came the second, the third, the fourth...

The chains of holy light dissipated after the last fire mayfly fell, and Arthur withdrew his hand, his breathing slightly rapid.

"good."

"You're not bad either."

As Moen sheathed his revolver, preparing to say something witty to suit the mood, the Death Note in his mind automatically opened.

Harvesting death brings blessings.

[Target for Harvesting: Remnants of Guardian Spells - Flame Mayflies]

A green orb of light appeared before his eyes, and Moen reached out and touched the light.

[Deep in the Mine (Green): Consumes magic to create an area of ​​absolute darkness with a radius of twenty meters. Within this area, all living beings lose their sight, including magical perception and heat perception. This effect has no effect on the user.]

[Introduction: In the darkness that even headlamps cannot penetrate, miners have learned to feel the wind through their skin, but for you, the direction of the wind is not important—you only need to see your prey.]

Moen glanced at the remains of the Flame Mayfly lying on the ground. Although the mayfly wasn't strong, the essence from it was surprisingly useful.

Absolute darkness, stripping everyone of their sight, leaving only oneself with normal vision.

In complex terrain or confined spaces, the value of this ability is immeasurable—especially in the place they are about to infiltrate tonight.

You seem quite happy.

Moen didn't explain further. He turned and walked towards the remains, squatted down, and gently placed the brass mining lamp beside the deceased's hand.

"Do you know him?"

"I wouldn't say we knew each other." Moen stood up, his gaze lingering on the remains for a few seconds before he turned and walked out of the stone chamber.

"I just felt that he shouldn't not even have a lamp."

After a few seconds of silence, Arthur stood up, made the sign of the cross on his chest, and whispered a short prayer of repose.

"Marcus, judging from your reaction when you touched that miner's lamp, you saw his memories from before he died?"

"Hmm." Moen didn't stop walking. "We'll talk about it later. Let's get out of here first. This commotion might have alerted the people at the mine. We don't have much time left."

The two returned along the same mine tunnel they had come from, and by the time they climbed out of the crack and emerged from the ground, it was already broad daylight.

The clouds over Ironcrown City were a bit thinner than in the early morning, and a few rays of sunlight peeked through the gaps in the clouds, falling on the barren slag heaps and were unexpectedly dazzling.

Moen pulled out a map from his pocket, his fingertips moving slowly until they stopped on an area on the east side that was scribbled in pencil.

"This way." He pointed to the east. "The small mine owner marked a shantytown on his map, less than a mile east of the old mining area. It's where miners' families and homeless people live."

"Go over there and see if you can find a retired miner who knows the old mining area routes."

"This old guy, who has spent his whole life in the mine, probably knows the underground structure of this mining area better than anyone else."