Mr. Death in the Steam World

By the time the last trapped person was rescued from the fire, the shantytown had been mostly burned down.

Moen stood at the edge of the ruins, his body covered in burns and abrasions, a section of his hair singed, and his coat completely unrecognizable.

Emily wasn't in much better shape; her skirt was burned down to half its original length, and her face was covered in cigarette ash.

Arthur was casting a healing spell on the last batch of wounded soldiers; the hem of his priest's robe had been burned with several holes by sparks.

Phils stood in front of the fire-ravaged ruins, holding the last child she had rescued in her arms.

The child was asleep, his little face resting on her shoulder, breathing evenly.

She looked down at the back of her hand.

The edges of the flame petals were now adorned with fine golden lines, resembling some kind of ancient inscription.

Perhaps this means she has taken the lead in this battle for the successor, who knows?

She looked up at the still-burning ruins before her.

The shantytown was mostly burned down, and hundreds of people lost their homes overnight.

Many people were injured, many people cried out, but she could proudly tell everyone.

No one died in this accident.

"Sister Phils."

Melina appeared beside her at some point, barefoot, her light brown eyes shining brightly in the firelight.

Are you alright?

Phils shook her head, handed the sleeping child in her arms to a woman who came to help, squatted down, and looked Melina in the eye.

"Melina."

"Um?"

"I want to be an agent."

Melina paused for a moment, seemingly not understanding the meaning of those words.

"Not for power, not for glory."

She raised her hand, and a cluster of golden-red flames appeared in her palm.

The flame was small, only the size of a fist, but it burned exceptionally steadily in the night wind, its warm light reflecting on her and Melina's faces.

"Only because I have the ability to protect the people I want to protect."

Melina looked at the cluster of flames, and her eyes suddenly reddened.

She wanted to say thank you, to say sorry, to say that the fire started because of her, and to say that the people in the shantytown lost their homes because of her.

But these words just wouldn't come out.

Moen stood not far away, watching this scene, but did not go over.

Arthur walked over to him, followed his gaze, and then sighed softly.

"Do you know what this means, Marcus?"

"I know."

"The Agent is no joke. Once she is truly chosen by Vulcan, she will no longer be just an ordinary magician."

"She will become the spokesperson of the gods on earth, the focus of the entire supernatural world, and the target of countless people's covetousness."

"I know."

"and you--"

“I don’t need to stop her.” Moen turned his head and looked into Arthur’s grey-green eyes. “I just need to stand by her side.”

Arthur was silent for a few seconds, then smiled.

"You really are just like her."

Moen didn't reply, but simply turned his gaze back to Phils.

The cluster of golden-red flames was still burning in her palm.

Small, bright, and warm, just like her.

Emily walked over from the ruins, holding a wet towel that she had somehow produced, and was wiping the ash from her face.

"Catherine sent a message," she said.

"The people in Westdwin have already started to evacuate towards the mines. They probably thought the people in the shantytowns would run to the mines, but they didn't expect us to move everyone to the open space to the east."

"They won't let this go," Arthur said.

"Of course not." Emily draped the towel over her shoulder. "But at least tonight, we won."

Moen did not speak.

He looked up at the night sky above the shantytown, where coal smoke and sparks drifted in the night wind like a black snowfall.

Sidwin's actions tonight have crossed his bottom line.

It has nothing to do with the candidate, the proxy, or Vulcan.

It's all because of one fact—that bastard used innocent people as pawns.

What Moen finds most intolerable is that innocent people are dragged into their own game.

"Arthur".

"Um?"

"Tomorrow, just tomorrow, we'll go to the mine."

Arthur glanced at him, didn't ask why, and simply nodded.

"it is good."

Emily threw the wet towel on the ground, a cold glint flashing in her blue eyes.

Count me in.

Phils walked over from the fire ruins, the child in her arms already settled, with Melina following behind her.

"I'll go too," she said.

Moen looked at her.

Her face was covered in cigarette ash, her clothes had several holes burned in them, and her hair was a mess. She looked nothing like a noble lady, much less a top student.

But her eyes sparkled, as if a raging fire were burning within them.

"Okay," Moen said, "Let's go together."

When I returned to the Swallow Inn, the landlady was squatting at the door, pouring a bucket of hot water onto the stone steps in front of the door.

When she saw them return, her hand trembled, and she almost dropped the bucket on her foot.

"My God—" She put the bucket down on the ground and rushed over to meet him.

"Are you going to put out a fire or to be reborn? Father, your robe! Miss Manluo, your dress! And you—"

Her gaze fell on Phils's face, her voice paused for a moment, and then her eyes reddened.

"Girl, why does your face look like a cat's?"

Phils paused for a moment, then raised her hand to touch her face, only to find her hand covered in dust.

"It's okay," she smiled, "it'll be clean after a wash."

The proprietress opened her mouth, but ultimately said nothing. She turned around and went to the kitchen, bringing out a large basin of hot water. She then found several clean towels and stuffed them into their hands one by one.

"Wash yourself clean and go upstairs to sleep. We'll talk about tomorrow tomorrow."

No one refuted.

Moen took the towel, wiped his face casually, and was about to go upstairs when the landlady suddenly pulled a crumpled envelope from her apron pocket and handed it to him.

"Someone just delivered it," she said in a low voice, "a man in a gray coat and a hat, so I couldn't see his face. He said it was for Miss Manro."

Moen took the envelope and handed it to Emily.

Emily tore open the seal and pulled out a neatly folded strip of paper.

In the light of the kerosene lamp, the handwriting on the note was delicate yet hurried—

"The three-layer boundary of the mine is located as follows: the old water pump room on the east side, the north slope of the waste pile on the south side, the ventilation shaft opening on the west side, and the entrance of the No. 3 old mine tunnel on the north side."

"Each node is guarded by at least two first-rank magicians. Once the barrier is activated, any unmarked magical fluctuations will trigger an alarm."

Moen's eyes quickly scanned the note before turning it over.

There is another line of text on the back, the handwriting is completely different from the front, much more hasty, as if it was hastily written in a very short time—

"Among the three layers of barriers, the eastern node is a disguise; the true core is beneath the western waste pile—a person who doesn't want to die."