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Steampunk: Sixth Era Epic

Arriving in a new world where the steam industry was booming, he inherited a three-story apartment on the capital's royal square, took in someone else's cat, and listened to the whispers at his ear, ready to witness this mysterious and bizarre era. The epic of the Sixth Era was about to commence, and behind the curtain, The Chosen One was destined to step into legend. Old Gods, Relics, steam, witches, detectives, ancient secrets, the Era's brilliance... "Would you like to play a round of Roder Cards?" Time engraved the hours, as Silvermoon illuminated the shadows. I compose your legend, you whisper your verses to me.

Salty Fish Pilot · Games
Not enough ratings
312 Chs

Chapter 7: God and the Church

"Could it really be just my bad luck?"

Shard pondered over his recent encounter with Dr. Schneider. Fortunately, the grumbling of his stomach pulled him back to reality. Right now, the commission was indeed the most important thing.

Less than twelve hours since crossing over, Shard had to learn to endure hunger. If he had crossed into a forest, there might have been a chance to hunt; if it was a chaotic era, there might have been a chance to find food.

But in a well-ordered big city, filling one's stomach required adhering to the rules. Shard stood at the entrance of the newspaper office, watching the "upper class" coming and going from the club nearby, hoping the sensation of hunger would pass. Fortunately, all he needed to do now was stand in the fog and wait. If he needed to pursue someone, he really would have been at a loss.

"I haven't heard of any transmigrators who starved."

He wanted to complain about his incompetence, but the current situation was beyond help. He could only hope that the lady would appear soon so he could submit his report to his employer.

As he stood there thinking, someone handed him a flyer, and Shard took it mechanically. Looking up, he saw a smiling, round-faced missionary in a white priestly robe. A holy emblem of the church adorned his left chest, and a black pendant hung at his front, as he distributed flyers to the nearby crowd.

Looking down at what had been stuffed into his hand, it was promotional material belonging to the Church of War and Peace. While rummaging through items in the house, Shard had learned about the religious situation in this world, knowing this was one of the churches of the True God.

In the past eras of this world, there were quite a lot of stories of deities, but in the current era, only five deities were officially recognized by both officials and the public; hence, the mainstream religion of this world was that of these five True Gods—

Father of Peace, also known as the God of War and Peace, bearing a holy emblem of a dove with tips of light gray wings;

Mr. Dawn, also known as the God of Light and Shadow, bearing a holy emblem of a circle with a top notch, brass-colored;

Lantern Bearer, also known as the Sun and Earth God, bearing a holy emblem of the Sun Pattern, golden in color;

Lady of Creation, also known as the God of Creation and Destruction, bearing a holy emblem of a wrench, silver in color;

Lord of All Things, also known as the God of Nature and Malice, bearing a holy emblem of two overlapping leaves, one yellowish-brown and one green. The old man who had transported a corpse recently, was a member of the Church of Nature.

"Hmm? Why do the divine vocations advocated by the True Gods all seem to involve opposing concepts?"

At that thought, Shard suddenly had more ideas about this world. Yet, the indescribable feeling could not be better articulated to himself. In a blur, he seemed to touch upon some power, as a whisper echoed in his ears:

[You have felt the 'miracle'.]

This time it was one of the Four Elements, "miracle." So far, Shard had encountered all but one, Desecration. According to the information mentioned by the voice in his mind, it seemed that touching all four elements completely would qualify him to reach out to the mysterious powers and open the Supernatural Gate.

"It seems simpler than I thought, having encountered three out of the four in just half a day."

Then, a woman's laughter echoed once again in his head, sounding truly enchanting.

The five major True God Churches were not hostile to each other, and their relationships were much better than those between human kingdoms.

The church's strength varied from region to region, but in the northern gem, Tobesk City, the cathedrals of all five churches existed, each engaging in a relatively "friendly" competition.

Shard thought about these matters, looking at the print material in his hands, and remarked that there was no need for him to "invent" the printing press. Although the print quality was not very high, at least...

Suddenly, his eyes widened as he discovered important information. Most of the flyer was an introduction to the teachings of the True God, the "Father of Peace." It welcomed believers and heathens to the church to listen to scheduled sermons and preaching activities every week.

Importantly, at the bottom of the page, it stated that by holding this flyer, one could queue at the church entrance at five thirty in the afternoon on the weekend to receive free relief food. Moreover, a line in smaller print stated that no matter how long the queue, as long as one appeared before six o'clock, they would definitely receive a meal ticket and definitely get food.

Even though accepting such charity was embarrassing, at least Shard knew he would not starve today. He touched his nose and noted down the address of the Church of War and Peace, then solemnly folded the strongly ink-scented flyer and tucked it inside Mr. Hamilton's notebook.

He silently thanked the deity in his heart; although he still felt hungry, his mood had greatly improved.

"Luck isn't actually that bad."

As Shard thought this, he knew that once Lady Lassoya, the subject of the investigation, entered the club, she wouldn't leave for an hour or two. He wondered if he could find the missionary to talk to.

In this world, belief in gods was widespread; atheists were actually a tiny minority. Of course, as long as one didn't publicly declare their disbelief, it was actually not a problem, but Shard was interested in understanding more about these so-called True Gods. In a world where belief exists, being completely ignorant of such matters was even more dangerous.

He was thinking about how to start a conversation when the missionary walked away. Regretfully, he did not follow, instead continuing to stand and wait, knowing there would be time to learn all this once he was more firmly established.

He wasn't the only one standing at the newspaper office door; most were reporters waiting for news, and a few were idlers working for the newspaper. Today was Saturday, and even though the weather was foggy, Valente Walkway, being a main thoroughfare, was bustling, so the crowd there did not seem out of place.

Though called a "walkway," it was not prohibited for carriages to pass through. Shard observed the club while sizing up the pedestrians and carriages passing by, thinking this would help him better integrate into the surroundings.

The air was filled with a scent of burning, which was, of course, the smog. The odor was not very strong, only the mist in the air thickening as the sun moved from overhead toward the west.

Worried about his health, lost in his thoughts, Shard saw another carriage stop in front of the club. He immediately looked up, and it was Mr. Lawrence, the client's husband.

"Interesting, an unexpected gain."

He whispered, noting the current time and writing the information down in his notebook.

Mrs. Lawrence, the client, was generous. If he could catch her husband with his lover at the club on the day he submitted his report, she might even give him an extra reward.

"But it might also be an angry woman implicating me."

Shard pondered hopefully to see Lady Lassoya at the club's door welcoming Mr. Lawrence, but unfortunately, Mr. Lawrence entered the club by himself.

Even from across the street, Shard could see the smile and excitement on Mr. Lawrence's face; he was definitely not at the club just to gamble on cards or drink tea.

"Good luck."

He thought to himself, shaking his head as he detailed Mr. Lawrence's attire for today to validate the authenticity of his report.