In the eastern suburbs of the city, there was a cement factory that had been abandoned for seven or eight years.
Most of the factory’s perimeter wall had collapsed.
Weeds sprouted from the cracks, growing taller than a person.
The production workshop was piled high with discarded mixers and conveyor belts, covered in a thick layer of dust.
Haruka huddled in a corner deep within the workshop.
His back was pressed against a completely ruined mixer.
He hugged his knees with both arms, his forehead buried between his legs.
He had been there for the entire night.
He was still wearing the same school uniform from last night; it had dried.
But the bloodstains on it had turned into dark brown, hardened crusts, emitting a sweet, fishy smell.
Hunger.
This thought was like a nail driven into his brain, impossible to pull out.
It felt as if every cell in his body was screaming for food.
“Eat.”
A voice echoed in his mind.
It was the voice of the Carnage Symbiote.
“Shut up.”
Haruka buried his face deeper.
“You are hungry, and I am hungry too.”
Carnage’s voice carried a rough, gritty texture.
“I smell something living outside, the two-legged kind, not far from here.”
“I said shut up!”
Haruka’s fingers dug into the concrete floor, blood seeping from under his nails, but he couldn’t feel the pain.
He dry-heaved.
The images from last night flooded back.
Haruka dry-heaved again, his stomach churning violently.
But he couldn’t vomit anything, because his stomach had been empty for a long time.
“Stop struggling.”
Carnage said, “You can’t go back anymore; you killed them.”
“Killed those pieces of trash.”
“Do you think you can still go back to school, carrying your backpack to class?”
Haruka lifted his head, looking at the collapsed hole in the factory roof.
Grayish-white daylight leaked through the hole, shining onto his face.
His face was very thin, cheekbones protruding, eye sockets sunken, lips cracked; he looked like he hadn’t eaten in days.
But there was still light in his eyes.
A faint, flickering glimmer of light.
“I wonder how Coal is doing?” he muttered to himself.
The voice was silent for a moment.
“That brother of yours? Who cares.”
“I care.”
“You care about him, but does he know you killed his parents?”
Haruka’s body trembled.
“Guess how he will look at you?”
Carnage continued, his tone filled with a cruel pleasure.
“Will he call you brother? Or will he call you a murderer?”
Yes, regardless of anything else, he had killed Coal’s biological parents.
The brother who had secretly brought him a blanket that winter.
The brother who had shared half of his lucky money with him.
The brother who had carried him on his back for three streets to see a doctor.
He had destroyed his brother’s home with his own hands.
This realization tormented him more than the hunger.
“Are you pitying yourself?”
Carnage sneered.
“Pitiful people in this world have only one fate: to be trampled to death.”
“You have already tasted the flavor of power.”
“That pleasure of tearing the people who bullied you into pieces, have you forgotten?”
Haruka’s fingers clenched tightly on the ground.
He hadn’t forgotten.
That feeling was too intense.
At the moment the punk’s body shattered in his hands, he had felt an unprecedented sense of relief.
All the humiliation!
All the forbearance!
All the grievances he had swallowed while gritting his teeth!
Were all released in that instant.
He hated himself for enjoying that moment.
But he had indeed enjoyed it.
“Think about it.”
Carnage began to speak again.
“Those people in the class group chat who mocked you, those who filmed you and posted it on the forum, those who called you trash and said you were a waste of food.”
“They’re still laughing now, aren’t they?”
“Don’t you want to make them taste the feeling of kneeling on the ground and begging for mercy?”
“Enough!”
Haruka punched the ground, causing a spiderweb-like crack to spread across the concrete floor.
His right hand was instantly covered by red liquid fluid.
His five fingers turned into sharp claws, embedding deeply into the shattered concrete.
Haruka froze for a moment, looking down at his hand.
The liquid fluid slowly receded, the claws retracted, and his fingers returned to normal.
But the crack on the floor remained.
He clenched his fist, his knuckles cracking.
“I don’t kill,” he said, “I won’t kill!”
The voice remained silent for a long time.
“You will change your mind.”
After saying this, Carnage didn’t speak again, retreating into the depths of Haruka’s consciousness, lying dormant and waiting.
Bird calls came from outside the factory.
And the sound of car engines occasionally passing on the distant highway.
Haruka stood up, his legs feeling a bit weak, and leaned on the mixer as he walked to the other end of the workshop.
There was an abandoned faucet here; he twisted it a few times, and surprisingly, there was still water.
Murky water that tasted of rust.
He bent down, cupped his hands, and drank a few mouthfuls.
The water was cold, filling his empty stomach and causing a spasm-like contraction.
He coughed a few times and wiped his mouth.
Outside the window, the sun was rising.
Light streamed through the broken glass windows, shining on his face.
He squinted his eyes, looking at that beam of light.
When was the last time he watched the sunrise?
He couldn’t remember.
Five kilometers away, hundreds of meters deep beneath the city.
Knull’s main body was quietly attached to the rock; he saw, heard, and felt everything transmitted through the mental link.
He felt Haruka’s hunger.
He felt Haruka’s guilt.
He watched the entire tug-of-war of self-torment inside Haruka’s heart.
Interesting.
Carnage’s killing instinct was constantly pulling at Haruka’s sanity.
And the existence of his younger brother, Coal, was like an anchor, which Haruka was clinging to desperately, refusing to sink completely into the darkness.
The two forces were tearing at each other within his body.
The emotional fluctuations generated by that conflict were more complex, layered, and dense than pure killing intent or pure fear.
For Knull, it was like a richly seasoned dish.
It had a better aftertaste than the violent killing emotions from last night.
He decided not to interfere.
Let Haruka struggle on his own.
Regardless of whether he ultimately chose to hold onto that anchor or let go and fall, for Knull, it was a good show worth watching.
And no matter the outcome, he would be able to reap nourishment from it.
Then Knull shifted his attention away from Haruka and turned towards the city further away.
Twelve kilometers to the southeast, that ball of burning rage was still there.
It was a bit stronger than yesterday.
Knull was in no hurry.
The firewood hadn’t burned to its peak yet; igniting it too early would only waste the best parts.
He had plenty of time.