Steampunk Era: Mad Abield

Maya liked to hum when she was happy, because it was in the Pansao cat-people's language, Malin couldn't understand it at all. He could only barely catch a tune, but at least he could be certain of the cat girl's mood, just like when she previously bit her tail—a behavior young Pansao cat-people exhibit unconsciously when they're nervous.

One might say that it was an intrinsic nature that couldn't be taken away.

Although he was half a head shorter than Maya, Malin still took on the responsibilities of being an older brother—whether it was that identity, his over-forty salaryman one, or the resolve expected of a man, Malin wouldn't allow himself to slack off.

Speaking of which, the reason Gaiate adopted him and Maya was something Malin had been pondering over the past half-month. Looking at the current situation, the most likely conventional possibility was that this middle-aged man, with some grey at his temples, had no wife or children and, in the end, just picked up a set of both a son and a daughter.

A very normal perspective if one weren't trying to fit it into a web novel narrative. Otherwise, it might get complicated, and Malin thought such wild speculations were too boring—middle-aged men too often have melodramas in their heads, either perverted or insane.

From his observations over the past month, Gaiate didn't seem to be insane, and considering he sometimes came back with lipstick marks on his face, he probably wasn't perverted either.

As for what kind of professional he was looking for, that wasn't something Malin was going to observe—the careers people chose, whether to press F to enter an infantry chariot or a tank, that was their freedom.

As long as he provided funds for Maya on time, it was all good.

As for Malin himself—he felt he didn't need to go to school because from what he had observed this past month, no school could possibly compare to his original 985 academic background. The only thing that might attract him was the high-grade Spirits class.

This came from the grandson of the old landlady next door while bragging to them. Since both Malin and Maya were young, combined with Malin's skillful boasting, the boy simply couldn't keep his mouth shut. Generally speaking, students from high grades (equivalent to middle school) would begin to acquire knowledge of Spirits, a realm of knowledge Malin couldn't hope to catch up with—where on Earth were there any Spirits, though maybe if one were more lenient, and counted the uglier ones... Forget it, this subject was too dangerous.

Being a man with a square face and stoic demeanor, Malin felt this matter could easily get him tangled up in it.

Anyway, according to the loose-lipped boy, this world did have its dangers, but Malin was lucky. The last Tide of the Dead had passed just thirty years ago—every hundred years, this world would experience such a tide. In the early Middle Ages, the Tide of the Dead could sweep across half the continent, but with the great development of modern science (Malin scoffed at the mention of science in a steampunk world, but having later seen a steam train in the newspaper, he had to swallow his words— at least they were developing, weren't they?), even ordinary mortals could fight the lower-class Spirits, rendering the Tide of the Dead far less powerful.

And even if the Tide of the Dead was inevitable, it was still seventy years away. The boy with no filter on his lips even patted Malin's head, "You don't seem to be purely human, maybe you'll have the chance to see it. I think I don't have a chance anymore."

Right, the average lifespan of mortals in this world was sixty years; threats to life included prolonged unhealthy eating (Carterburg was a free city under the 'Sydney Union', where locals who were in daily contact with healthy foods like fish actually preferred fattier meats—the sight of those white blobs of fat disgusted Malin), long-term heavy labor (there were no eight-hour workdays here, fortunate work hours permeated the entire society, and given the world's dangers, being eaten by Spirits was even a common reason for quitting), long-term pollution (North of Carterburg was an industrial area that emitted massive levels of pollution daily. Malin had seen Spell Formations that helped the body expel pollution, surprisingly not only in the hands of the Church—many professionals like Gaiate knew them, suggesting that this Spell Formation was likely a low-level technique available to all professionals), and of course, the existence of Spirits.

Apart from harmless creatures like giant rats, through the word of mouth from a youngster who never seems to run out of stories, people of this world have divided Spirits into seven ranks.

First is not the harmless rank, but the beneficial rank, such as giant bees. These large bees are the sole source of honey and beeswax in this world, and a substantial number of Professionals who specialize in insect control make their living from them.

Next comes the harmless rank. This class has no benefits, but basically no killing power either. The only thing to be mindful of is to take good care of young children, as the harmless rank can only harm them.

The third rank is the troublesome rank, a bit more problematic than the harmless kind, but that's about it. Anyone can take down a Spirit of this level as long as they can ensure their own safety, needing only to be able to pick up a revolver—one shot would be enough to solve any issue, which is why Malin had already seen four gun stores along the way.

Ranked fourth is the dangerous rank. The Spirits of this rank start to become hazardous. Not only are they beyond the capability of minors (like Maya) to handle, but even adults can be killed through a moment's inattention. However, the blabbermouth claims that these Spirits can still be taken down with a revolver.

Above the dangerous rank is the fatal rank. Many Spirits of this level are immune to ordinary bullets (most with thick outer skins that can block the penetration of regular ammunition), and ordinary adults encountering them would generally have to choose to flee to have a chance of survival. The reason for saying this, Malin thought, must be due to the abundance of negative examples of those who knew the odds and still faced them. In Carterburg, the most common fatal rank Spirit is the Drownghoul, the unfortunate souls transformed into Spirits due to drowning, whose long tongues often appear on Gaiate's trophy list.

Above the fatal rank is the terror rank. Spirits of this rank are essentially walking grim reapers, and however many non-Professionals come, it's a death sentence. Even Professionals need to be fully alert and fight with the most serious attitude and best condition to stand a chance of victory.

Beyond terror rank is the calamity rank. Spirits of this level are beyond the capabilities of any single Professional to defeat. Only a well-coordinated team of Elite Professionals stands a chance of emerging victorious in battle.

Considering some of what the talkative youngster said was dubious, Malin didn't fully believe him, but looking at these seven ranks, it seemed quite possible they were true. If one were to graph the situation with Spirits, the first three ranks on one side of the curve actually aren't numerous. The real abundance lies with the fourth and fifth ranks. The terror rank and calamity rank are on the other side of the curve.

By the way, that youngster also mentioned, apart from Spirits, there are different kinds, but he didn't specify what they are, making Malin curious and also vigilant.

This indeed is a dangerous world.

With such a thought, Malin pushed his cart around the street corner.

The next second, he caught a whiff of the scent of blood in the air.

The smell of rust, very strong, like... when he had first injured his leg during his time as a soldier, the smell that filled the air over his face cut by shrapnel.