Mr. Death in the Steam World

Sidwin raised his hands, palms facing each other, and slowly pulled them apart in front of his chest.

A dark red flame, much larger than before, condensed and took shape between his palms.

Flames surged, radiating a suffocatingly high temperature.

Moen's pupils contracted slightly.

He sensed it—the magic contained within that flame was far stronger than Sidwin's attack just now.

This is not the level a third-order magician should have.

Sidwin is hiding his true strength.

"Arthur!" Moen called out.

Arthur did not respond.

He planted his longsword in the ground in front of him, clasped his hands together in front of his chest, and closed his eyes.

A silvery-white light rose from beneath his feet, forming a hemispherical barrier around him.

Sidwin's smile deepened.

He forcefully pushed the flames between his palms out—

Just then, a figure rushed out from the shadows at the entrance of the cave.

It was a woman wearing a long black robe, the hood of which had slipped down, revealing a pale and tired face.

Vera.

She stood in front of Arthur, her hands crossed in front of her, palms facing outwards.

A semi-transparent blue barrier unfolded in front of her, blocking the flames that Sidwin had unleashed.

The flames sizzled against the barrier.

"You—" Sidwin's face changed drastically, "Vera! Are you insane?!"

Vera didn't look at him, but turned her head and glanced in Moen's direction.

"Although I won't help you," her voice was a little hoarse, "I will never help him again."

Moen stared at her face; although he didn't recognize her, her identity was self-evident.

That's her—the "woman in black robes with a southern accent" the mercenaries in the tavern were talking about.

That's her—the woman Melina described as "able to get angry, to curse, and to hit people."

At this moment, she was on their side.

Sidwin's face was terribly grim, and dark red flames once again gathered in his hands.

"Traitors," he spat out the word through gritted teeth, "all of them must die."

Vera wiped the blood from the corner of her mouth and erected a new barrier in front of her.

"Then let's give it a try."

In the instant the two confronted each other, Moen felt something vibrate in his mind.

He suddenly turned his head and looked in the direction of the cave entrance.

There, a figure was slowly emerging from the shadows.

A man wearing glasses.

His gaze fell directly on Moen, the gray-white lenses reflecting the light, obscuring the expression in his eyes.

"A decent layout," he said casually.

"Brad helped you remove the outer guards, old Sidwin withdrew his family's private army, Catherine gave you intelligence, and Vera gave you the secret of the barrier."

"For a first-tier magician to be able to mobilize so many people to work for you, you're quite a talent."

He pushed up his glasses and squinted.

"It's a pity that they insist on being my enemy."

Moen tensed up, his hand already on the revolver at his waist.

He dared not act rashly, as the difference in strength between his opponent and himself was too great; to take the initiative to attack would be tantamount to suicide.

The bespectacled man seemed completely unconcerned by his reaction, simply raising his right hand slightly.

In an instant, the temperature of the entire cave dropped sharply.

Moen felt his magic circuits stop working for a moment, and the magic power in his body seemed to be frozen, completely still.

The "Eye of Death" flickered wildly deep within the pupil, yet nothing could be seen clearly.

The concentration of magic on the bespectacled man was too high, so high that his senses couldn't penetrate it at all.

Is this the oppressive aura of a high-level magician?

The bespectacled man flicked his raised finger lightly.

An invisible force shot out from his fingertips, heading straight for Moen's face.

There's no escaping it.

Moen's intuition was screaming wildly, but his body couldn't react in time.

The next second, a silvery-white light crashed down from the top of the cave.

The beam of light, as thick as a bucket and carrying an aura of unparalleled holiness, struck the force that the bespectacled man had unleashed.

The two forces collided in the air, producing a dull, loud bang.

The shockwave spread in all directions, causing the flames around the altar to flicker and nearly go out.

Moen staggered back two steps and looked up at the top of the cave.

There, a crack had appeared at some point.

Moonlight poured down from the crack, casting a silvery glow on everyone.

And in the very center of that moonlight stood an old man.

He wore a simple white robe, his full head of silver hair was neatly combed back, revealing his full forehead and two thick white eyebrows.

He was extremely tall, and even standing at the top of the cave, his imposing presence made everyone present feel breathless.

Agnes Celides, Vice Dean of the Faculty of Arts at St. Alice Magic Academy.

No, it's not just him.

Behind him, Moen saw two other figures.

A middle-aged man in a bishop's robe, leaning on a staff in his right hand and holding a thick holy book in his left.

The other was a fully armed combat monk, whose armor shimmered with holy light.

The bespectacled man's expression finally changed.

"The Church of the Holy See," he whispered, "you have crossed the line."

Archbishop Cecil walked slowly down from the top of the cave, each step seemingly on air, as if invisible steps were supporting his feet.

"A high-ranking deacon of the Truth Society has appeared within the jurisdiction of the Holy Church," his voice was deep and steady. "Who exactly has overstepped their bounds?"

The bespectacled man was silent for a moment, then gave a cold laugh.

"interesting."

He raised his hands and slowly pulled them apart in front of him.

A spatial rift tore open in front of him, and from the rift surged unsettling magical energy.

"Since you want to play, I'll play with you."

He stepped into the crevice and disappeared into the cave.

The next second, the crack reopened at the top of the cave.

The bespectacled man stood in the moonlight, his hands behind his back, looking down at Archbishop Cecil.

"Come up," he said. "The space underground is too narrow; you can't move around freely."

Without hesitation, Cecil transformed into a streak of silver-white light and soared into the sky.

The two high-level combatants clashed on the ground.

Moen could feel the entire mine shaking.

The collision of the two forces was like two mountains crushing each other.

"Stop looking." Arthur patted him on the shoulder. "Leave the work upstairs to them. Our target is here."

His gaze fell on the altar in the center of the cave.

Sidwin was still standing there, his face ashen.

Vera remained standing in front of him, the blood at the corner of her mouth already dried, but her eyes were more resolute than ever.

"Vera," Sidwin said through gritted teeth, "do you know what you're doing?"

"I know," Vera said calmly. "I'm doing what I should have done a long time ago."

Sidwin did not speak again.

He raised his hands, and dark red flames surged in his palms.

Vera took a deep breath and erected a blue barrier in front of her.

"Arthur!"