Mr. Death in the Steam World

The bespectacled man walked to the stone platform, took out a map from his pocket, spread it out, and pointed to several locations with his finger.

"First, arson was committed here, here, and here simultaneously. The shantytown was full of makeshift shelters made of wooden frames and tarpaulins. Once a fire started, it was impossible to put it out without professional equipment."

"Once the fire starts, everyone will run outside, and the scene will be very chaotic."

"Second, take advantage of the chaos to control the residents on the side near the mine. Not all of them, just a few dozen will suffice."

"Choose those families that look like they can't run fast, put them at the mine entrance, and then spread the word."

He paused, a very faint smile appearing on his lips.

"Just say, hand over the third candidate before tonight, or else all these people's lives will be tied to him."

"Kidnapping hostages?" The woman in black hesitated slightly. "That doesn't fit..."

She didn't finish her sentence, but the bespectacled man knew what she wanted to say.

"Not in line with the Truth Society's style? Oh, Vera, you're quite interesting." He finished her sentence for her, then smiled faintly.

"Truth will never care about so-called style; we have only one principle—just means are just means."

"Our goal is to ensure the ritual proceeds smoothly and to bring the power of the Vulcan's agent into the hands of those we can control."

"As for what methods are used in the process, who cares? Ha."

Vera fell silent.

Sidwin stood to the side, his eyes growing brighter as he listened, the corners of his mouth gradually turning upwards until he let out an undisguised, sinister laugh.

"Good idea. Let them come in by themselves. Once that woman who dared to insult me, Puxin, enters the mine, I'll see if she can still keep up her stubbornness."

Vera looked at the arson points marked on the map, then at the sinister grin on Sidwin's face, and finally said nothing, only nodding.

The bespectacled man folded the map back up and put it back in his pocket.

His gaze passed over Sidwin's shoulder and landed on the shattered crystal in the center of the altar.

Something is slowly growing inside the crystal, like a budding flame.

The ceremony would begin soon, and he was certain that no matter how it went, the outcome would remain the same.

The power of the Vulcan's agents will ultimately belong to the Truth Society.

......

The night wind, carrying coal dust, swept through the alleyways of the shantytown, making the oil lamps hanging at the entrances of the shacks sway precariously.

Moen stood by the window on the second floor of the Swallow Inn, looking at the hazy horizon in the direction of the mine in the distance, and the feeling of unease in his heart grew stronger.

"Mr. Marcus." Emily came from the other end of the corridor, clutching a newly delivered letter.

"Catherine sent a message—she said that Sidwin had deployed more than thirty mercenaries to the mine this afternoon and had also taken a large amount of oil and tinder from the warehouse."

Moen's pupils contracted sharply.

"Tinder?"

"Yes, oil, bales of hay, and a few barrels of refinery waste." Emily's face also looked grim.

"She didn't know what Sidwin was going to do, but she sensed something was wrong, so she quickly sent a message."

Without hesitation, Moen turned around and rushed downstairs.

"Call Arthur, and head to the shantytowns, now!"

As the three rushed out of the Swallow Inn, the sky in the direction of the shantytown was brighter than usual, as if flames were surging beneath the clouds.

"Damn it." Arthur quickened his pace, the hem of his priest's robe fluttering in the night wind. "They've already made their move."

When they arrived, what they saw was a scene of purgatory.

More than a dozen fires broke out simultaneously, with flames leaping out from the gaps in the shacks and licking at the dry houses.

Coal ash and debris danced in the heat, and thick smoke billowed up, obscuring half the sky.

Screams, cries, and the rumble of collapsing buildings mingled into a chaotic symphony in the night.

The alleyways in the shantytown were too narrow for horse-drawn carriages to get through, and there simply weren't enough water buckets.

People ran out of the shacks, some carrying children, some supporting the elderly, looking around blankly in the firelight, not knowing where to run.

"Over there! Run east! There's an open space over there!" Emily shouted at the top of her lungs, but her voice was quickly swallowed up by the noise of the fire.

Moen's gaze swept quickly across the fire.

The distribution of the fire spots was too regular—three on the east side, two on the west side, four on the south side, and three on the north side, almost blocking all escape routes in the shantytown, leaving only one way in the northwest.

That direction leads to the mine.

"This wasn't an accident," he said through gritted teeth. "They're forcing people to go to the mines."

When Phils arrived, she froze on the spot.

The sea of ​​fire before her eyes turned her face deathly pale, her pupils reflecting the wildly dancing flames, and her fingers unconsciously clenched the hem of her clothes.

She has been afraid of out-of-control flames since she was a child.

When she first practiced fire magic as a child, she couldn't control her magic power, and flames exploded from her palm, burning down half of her study.

If her mother hadn't cast a protective spell in time, she would have been burned alive.

From then on, she was extra careful every time she cast a fire spell, and she would instinctively back away whenever she saw uncontrolled fire.

She thought that after so many years, she had overcome this fear.

But now, standing in front of the fire in the shantytown, she finds herself still that little girl who would tremble with fear at the sight of flames.

My legs felt weak, my palms were sweating, I was breathing rapidly, and my heart was pounding in my chest.

"Sister Phils!"

Melina's voice came from behind.

She had run away from the hotel at some point, standing barefoot on the edge of the shantytown, her light brown eyes reflecting the towering flames.

"Melina? What's wrong—"

"They're looking for me, aren't they?" Melina's voice trembled, but her eyes were unusually firm. "This fire is because of me, isn't it?"

Fils opened her mouth, but couldn't say a word.

Without waiting for her reply, Melina turned and rushed into the fire.

"What are you doing!" Phils grabbed her.

"Zai is still inside! Her younger siblings are still inside! The people from the shantytown are still inside!" Melina struggled, "It's because of me that they—"

"You can't save anyone even if you go in!" Phils's voice was even louder. "You don't even have magic; going in is just suicide!"

Melina froze.

Phils took a deep breath and turned to look at the fire.

Moen and Emily had already rushed inside, while Arthur was organizing the evacuation outside.

She could see Moen's figure moving through the firelight, carrying a child in his arms and an old man on his back. Emily followed behind him, using her magical senses to search for those still trapped in the shack.

They are all working desperately.

And what about her?

She stood outside the fire, rooted to the spot by her own fear, unable to do anything.

"Hey! Sister Phils, the mark on your hand is glowing!"

Phils looked down and saw the image of the flame flower reflected in her pupils.

She suddenly remembered what she had said to Melina earlier that day.

"You won't be taken back. I promise."

That was a promise, a heartfelt determination to protect someone.

But determination is never something that can be achieved by standing still.

Phil closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

The heat from the fire hit us, and the air was filled with the smells of burning coal and soot, along with the cries of children.

She opened her eyes and took her first step.