Half-step Purgatory

For a long time, Malin always felt that Fate had been quite generous to him. Although he had to face that life-threatening job every day, as long as he had the lovely Leopard Girl cooking delicious food for him daily, and as long as there was meat to eat and cats to stroke, life wasn't too unbearable. Working a bit harder and facing some difficulties on the job weren't really an issue for a man.
Moreover, being able to live two lives meant one shouldn't have too high demands, right, Mr. Different-Kind?
Having said that, and without waiting for an answer, the young man snapped his fingers, and the white flame on his fingertip lit the tobacco in his other hand, then he flicked it towards the non-human entity on the stake.
Welcome to Abield, to witness the last splendor of the steampunk era.
And the madness.

Steampunk Era: Mad Abield

"Not at all, but my spiritual sensitivity is very low, only a one." The captain's answer made Malin somewhat laugh and cry—such a level of sensitivity wouldn't normally allow even a Wraith to interact with him.


"But for an average citizen, their intensity wouldn't be a three, so I wonder... could it be some sort of mysterious power?" The captain said clearly while gnawing on his meat.


"...Yeah, so, I've decided to go in and take a look." Malin made up his mind.


After finishing his own grilled meat, Malin wiped his mouth, checked all his gear, and hung Bippo's little nest on the front of his waist on the left side.


"I'll lead the way for you," Eleven walked ahead.


"Wait a minute, sir, let me join you inside," the captain said.


Malin turned to look at him, "Are your men okay?"


"They'll be fine, sir. My old teammate Jack will take good care of the two kids," the captain said as he tossed a bone behind him and picked up the longsword and double-barreled shotgun beside his foot.


Section 517: The Shape of Voice (Part 2)_2