It started raining.
This made Kariel pull up his hood.
Although the stinging of the acid rain didn’t bother him much, his eyes were vulnerable.
And if that was the case, he had to be careful.
Rubbing the fabric of his cloak between his fingers, he felt it had become completely different.
This meant the cloak he had picked up was about to wear out.
With this thought, Kariel stood up and looked back towards the Old City.
As far as he could see, everything was calm.
No loud noises, no screams.
That meant the Ghost had either finished his work successfully or was still in the process.
Either way, even if he had been discovered, Kariel hoped he wasn’t injured.
The Ghost’s regenerative ability had deeply impressed him, as had his strength, agility, and the speed with which he learned.
But Kariel still believed there were no free miracles.
The car was approaching the checkpoint.
He could hear the sound of the engine.
And he knew that in a few minutes, everything would be over.
You cannot possess such power and pay no price for it.
Enormous strength leads to a bulky physique and mountains of muscle; the pursuit of agility requires shedding fat and the constraints of muscle.
Incredible explosive power forces a constant search for food to replenish energy; and if you want to fly… …look at the birds, a species that doesn’t exist on Nostramo.
To conquer the sky, their bones evolved and became hollow.
And Ghost… He possessed the most terrifying healing speed Kariel had ever seen.
In fact, it could hardly be called regeneration anymore.
Rather, after a wound, the flesh would knit itself back together, striving to return to a perfect state.
It instinctively rejected damage.
So what price did this creature, clearly born in a laboratory, pay for this power?
Kariel didn’t have an answer, but he knew one thing: Ghost must not die before him.
He narrowed his eyes.
His thoughts were interrupted by the roar of an engine coming from the other side of the bell tower.
The sound was barely audible, but Kariel caught it.
He turned toward the brightly lit road.
A huge black sedan was racing toward him from a distance.
Its design had not the slightest hint of “aerodynamics.” The car looked crude and massive, all its windows completely blacked out.
“An armored car…” A sight painfully familiar.
Kariel rose lightly onto his toes, bounced in place three times, and pushed off, leaving the bell tower.
He raced across the dark rooftops of the Old City.
His gaze was fixed on the road below.
The blinding light of the streetlamps seemed blurry in the intensifying rain; the distant outposts had shrunk to tiny dots, and only the car remained sharp.
The acid rain made the air damp and foul-smelling, but he paid it no mind.
Drops drummed against his cloak and hood, creating a sound that interfered with his hearing.
A fine patter, gradually quickening, like his own heartbeat.
Then he bent his knees, jumped, and an unimaginable force exploded through his body.
A blue light flared in his eyes, his muscles tensed, the bricks beneath his feet crumbled and turned to dust under the acid rain.
Relying only on himself, Kariel Lokhars soared upward for a moment.
“I could have been the champion of Nostramo high jump and long jump, if they held the Olympics on this eternally night-shrouded star…” In the darkness, Kariel slowly smiled.
He didn’t like humor and hated jokes.
But he smiled, even if just out of politeness.
… “When was the last time we were on Quintus?” Gendor Skraivok asked the question, but his gaze was fixed somewhere off to the side, not on the two women across from him.
He sat in his luxurious leather armchair, savoring red wine from the car’s bar.
At any time, in any place, most of Nostramo’s aristocrats put pleasure first.
“We have never been to Quintus,” Leina Skraivok replied in an icy tone.
“If your brains haven’t turned to mush, Gendor, you wouldn’t ask such stupid questions.” “Ha.” Hearing this, Gendor chuckled.
“Your idea of stupidity is still as primitive as ever, dear sister.
Your words sound like the muttering of a conceited fool… Who do you think I meant when I said ‘we’?” Leina Skraivok narrowed her eyes, and the terrible scar crossing her face seemed to come alive and twitch.
“Sooner or later… I’ll flay the skin off your back for your insolence, Gendor,” she said darkly.
“As you wish.
But I think we both know that of the three remaining children of the father, you’re the last who’ll get the black mark.” Leina’s face instantly turned crimson.
Gendor responded with a loud burst of laughter.
He tilted his slender neck back and drained the glass in one gulp.
The liquid, redder than blood, slid across his lips and vanished into his mouth.
The explosion of flavor on his tongue made him sigh with satisfaction.
Then he turned his gaze to Irene Skraivok.
His older sister.
“Honored sister… do you have an answer to my question?” Irene tore her gaze away from the dark window.
There were at least five meters between her and Gendor — enough to gauge the car’s size.
But the distance did not soften her look.
In fact, her stare made the smile on Gendor’s face slowly fade, and his right hand crept toward the side of his chair.
“If I were you, I wouldn’t shoot inside the car, Gendor,” Irene said without emotion.
“Father didn’t lend us the Iron Pride for nothing.
First, to some extent, it symbolizes the glory of House Skraivok.
Second, it’s protected against many types of weapons… including bullets fired from the inside.” “Then I still have a knife,” Gendor replied imperturbably.
“You can try,” Irene Skraivok said calmly.
“But I can’t guarantee your hand will remain intact.” Gendor squinted.
A second passed, two, and then he suddenly relaxed into a smile, pulled his right hand away, and even apologized.
“My apologies, honored sister.
And I sincerely hope you will answer your foolish brother’s little question…” “Twenty years ago.” Irene turned back to the dark glass and answered quietly.
“Twenty years ago, we were here.” “Twenty years ago…” Gendor nodded thoughtfully.
“That famous Great Purge, yes?” “Yes.” “How interesting.” Gendor smiled again.
“Seventy percent of Quintus’s population disappeared in that Purge.
I remember how I felt when I read about it in the family library… What a pity I wasn’t there.” “Do you think you’d have survived?” Leina Skraivok sneered contemptuously, never missing an opportunity to needle Gendor.
“Six houses were wiped off the face of the planet in that Purge, and one of them was Lokhars.
You don’t seriously think you’d surpass any of the Lokhars in the art of the blade, do you?” “No, Leina.
I never thought that.
In fact, if I could have been there, I would have gladly died.” This time, Gendor didn’t sneer.
He shook his head calmly.
He tilted his head up toward the hatch in the roof.
Leina watched him, not understanding what this eternally smug bastard was up to.
Then she saw his face grow more and more melancholy.
Suddenly, Leina shuddered.
It wasn’t the first time Gendor’s behavior had baffled her.
“You belong with the Chattering Teeth or the Silverwing Scavengers… Gendor, you’re not worthy to be with us,” Leina said with disgust.
“Perhaps.” Gendor looked at her and nodded ambiguously.
“I forgive your stupidity, Leina.” “You!..” Leina sprang from her seat and lunged at Gendor.
At that moment, Irene turned around.
She saw the triumphant smirk on Gendor’s lips and the fury on Leina’s face.
But somehow, in this tense, oft-repeated scene… Irene Skraivok felt an inexplicable unease for the first time.
The next second, she got an answer she didn’t want.
CRASH!
With a deafening roar, the Iron Pride of House Skraivok ground to a sudden halt.
There were still eight kilometers to the first outpost of the “Glorious Voyevodas.” The heavy wheels were still spinning, leaving black marks on the road, which had been repaired at the cost of workers’ lives.
But it could not move forward.
Irene Skraivok could confirm that.
Something on her left wrist was now humming low and sharp.
An engine failure signal.
Chaos erupted in the cabin.
Gendor and Leina had fallen on top of each other, but instead of going for each other’s throats, they both looked at their older sister, who, still buckled in, sat imperturbably in her seat.
Irene paid them no attention.
She smoothly and quickly unbuckled her belt, pressed a button on the right armrest, and the heavy metal door separating the passenger compartment from the front opened.
Behind the door stood forty soldiers in black armor, weapons in hand.
Irene stood up and met the eyes of their commander.
A slight nod, and the soldiers unbuckled their harnesses.
The side doors of the forward compartment opened by themselves, and they stepped outside.
Then the heavy door closed again, as did the partition between the compartments.
It all happened quietly, quickly, and ominously.
Seeing this, Gendor let out a whistle and said, narrowing his eyes: “Father never said the Iron Pride was this big… It can fit that many people?” “Some things must be earned to be known.
For example, that it doesn’t even need a driver.” Irene looked at her brother with an icy stare.
“Enough chatter.
Get ready, Gendor.
And you, Leina.” As she spoke, she rolled up her left sleeve.
On her pale wrist was a small silver bracelet.
Irene tapped it several times, and four seats in the cabin folded away, revealing hidden weapon compartments.
Gendor whistled again, this time in surprise.
“That many rifles?
And all the best models from Prime?” Leina snorted coldly, shoved past him, approached the arsenal, and while choosing a weapon, said in an icy tone: “Shut up, Gendor, and — ” “Target acquired, fire!” A sharp shout from outside cut Leina off.
A deafening roar of gunfire followed.
Thirty rifles, crafted by the masters of Hive Prime, erupted with a sound almost unbearable to the human ear.
Both Gendor and Leina winced.
Only Irene remained unruffled.
But only she knew how wildly her heart was pounding.
“What’s happening?
Why am I so anxious?” “Cease fire!
Cease fire!” the commander of the soldiers shouted.
“Fire support group — stand ready!
The rest, reload!
Find him!” “Him?” Gendor raised an eyebrow and joked, “Only one attacker?
And here I thought the Iron Pride had been hit by a rocket launcher.” “Shut up, Gendor,” Irene said quietly.
“Take a weapon.” “Why, elder sister?” “Take a weapon and be quiet.” As she spoke, Irene lifted her head toward the roof of the passenger compartment.
Gendor, though demanding an explanation, his body was already acting ahead — he grabbed a rifle.
He and Leina stood side by side, both following Irene’s gaze to the ceiling.
They didn’t understand why she was doing it, but they wanted to know the answer.
And they got it.
In the roof hatch stood a dark figure, coldly looking down at the three below.
Gendor snapped the rifle up — but the next second, the figure vanished.
Silence fell over the cabin.
Acid rain drummed on the hatch, on the glass capable of withstanding a large-caliber shot.
Drops shattered, but new ones fell in their place, meekly and inexorably.
Irene raised her hand; a bead of cold sweat rolled down her forehead.
She tapped the bracelet, brought it to her mouth, and said quietly: “Perimeter and roof alert, Helmut… One attacker?” “Honored Irene Skraivok, we only saw a shadow.” “Keep watching… I’ll contact the Glorious Voyevodas to hurry backup,” Irene said, pressing the red button on the armrest of her still-unsat seat.
House Skraivok always had contingency plans.
“Understood, Honored Irene Skraivok!” Helmut’s voice came from outside again.
He shouted through the piercing howl of wind and rain: “Everyone heard that!
Hold formation, stay aler — ” “BOOM!” The car was rocked violently.
“Fire!
Fire!” “He’s got Commander Helmut!” Gendor’s cheek twitched.
In this chaos, covered in cold sweat, he muttered a curse.
“House Skraivok will grind you to dust, attacker!
No matter who’s backing you!” Commander Helmut’s voice came through Irene’s bracelet, full of hatred and fury.
But the attacker didn’t say a word, letting Helmut continue to threaten and curse, maintaining an ominous silence.
Irene took a deep breath, about to intervene, to use Helmut’s life as bait to pry out at least some information.
But her plan failed before it even started.
Helmut’s sudden cry gave way to the soft sound of tearing flesh, which echoed through the cabin, unceasing.
A blood-curdling scream spread over the night highway, over the heads of all who belonged to House Skraivok.
“Damn it…” Gendor’s cheek twitched again.
“What’s going on, elder sister?” Irene didn’t answer.
The next minute became a minute of agonizing waiting for all of them.
Time dragged slowly, but no one said a word.
Gendor and Leina heard the quiet breathing of the soldiers outside, the patter of drops on the roof.
Irene stared in silence at her bracelet.
And then… …from the other side of the bracelet came singing.
Low, drawn-out, with a clear melancholy.
The melody was soft, but at the same time, it resembled the scrape of a blade against the tender skin of a throat.
“Sir…” Irene began slowly.
“Whatever the other houses have paid you, Skraivok will pay ten times more.” The singing continued.
“On Nostramo, we are the richest.
Our connections extend to all five hives.
Sir, it’s not too late to stop.” The singing stopped.
But the voice on the other end didn’t answer, only laughed quietly.
The rain rustled, the wind whistled, and he laughed, his laughter gradually fading into the distance… Leina, frozen, asked after a brief silence: “…Did he leave?” BAM!
A heavy blow struck the reinforced glass behind Leina, spiderwebbing it with cracks.
She flinched and collapsed to the floor.
But Gendor didn’t mock her.
With a deathly pale face, he stared in that direction.
Just now, he had seen a dark phantom flash past.
And immediately, shouts from the soldiers erupted outside again.
“He’s at the side!
Fire!” “Damn it, where’d he go?!” “Keep firing, keep firing!
Support group, hold the perimeter!” “Got you, you bastard!
Try this… what?!
No, no!” “He’s there!
He killed A-7!
He… he… he cut him in half!..” “No, he’s here, right next to me!” Chaos struck suddenly, without warning.
Madness spread with him.
Weapons didn’t fall silent, not even the support group.
Everyone was firing blind, but it couldn’t hide one fact.
The shots were getting fewer, and the screams were getting more.
A squall of wind and rain swept through, and a dead silence fell over the cabin.
Gendor’s hands trembled.
He stared at the nearly shattered window, and in the soft yellow light of the cabin, he clearly saw murky rainwater trickling down the cracks.
But from above, blood was also streaming down the glass.
Gendor slowly raised his head and saw a corpse.
It had appeared on the hatch suddenly; no one had noticed when.
It had no arms or legs, and its bulletproof helmet had been removed.
Its face was pressed against the glass, and its black, lifeless eyes stared straight at Gendor.
He met its gaze.
Three seconds later, Gendor, trembling all over, fell to the floor.
“Elder sister…” he whispered in a shaking voice.
“I see.” Irene replied slowly, her face paler than it had ever been.
Then she raised her left hand: “Commander Helmut confirmed dead.
Skraivok soldiers, report casualties.” A heavy, ragged breath came from the bracelet: “Soldier A-1 assuming command… Honored Irene Skraivok, we have taken heavy casualties.
There are nine of us left.” “How is that possible?!” Leina, who had been sitting on the floor for some time, roared.
“How could forty soldiers of House Skraivok — ” “Shut up, Leina.” Irene turned around, her face grim.
She turned and finally took a rifle from the small arsenal under the seat.
She expertly removed the magazine, checked the chamber, then immediately loaded the weapon.
Raising the rifle in a standard stance, she slowly backed toward the heavy door connecting the passenger compartment to the front, and stopped there.
“Listen to every word I say, soldiers of House Skraivok.
There are nine of you left; you have taken heavy losses, yes.” “But House Skraivok will not forget your sacrifice.
The families of all the fallen will receive decent support; your children can become our soldiers.
So… you know what to do.” “Understood!” Soldier A-1, who had assumed command, roared: “Everyone heard the words of Honored Irene Skraivok!
We die for Skraivok!” “Yes, I heard that too.” A low voice cut through the curtain of rain.
It pierced the downpour, pierced the cabin, carrying with it an endless cold, as if stepping across the boundary between life and death, sending chills down the spine.
“Then I grant you the death you crave, Commander A-1.” “He’s ahead!
O — ” “No!
Commander!” “Please, no!..” The last desperate cry pierced the night.
Not even six minutes had passed since the attack began.
Inside the cabin, the three sat with different expressions on equally pale faces.
“Sir…” Irene began again with difficulty, making one last attempt.
But the attacker didn’t let her.
BAM!
Another deafening blow.
The right side of the car was attacked with such force that they could barely stay on their feet.
BAM!
BAM!
BAM!
BAM!
Five blows in a row, from the right side.
One after another, each stronger than the last.
The sturdy hull of this car, which had served House Skraivok for over two hundred and twenty years, began to buckle inward.
And in that dent, a knife blade appeared slowly and smoothly.
With a quiet scraping of metal, as if cutting through butter, the blade began to rotate, and after a few seconds, a huge circle appeared.
Gendor’s breathing became ragged.
As Irene had said, he didn’t know many of the Iron Pride’s secrets, but he knew one.
Its armor was made with an admixture of adamantium.
Scrape.
With a sharp sound, the cut circle of metal was slowly “pushed” outward.
The heavy piece of metal fell onto the expensive carpet with a dull thud.
The bright light of the highway’s streetlamps flooded inside, along with the stench of acid rain and a thick, suffocating smell of blood.
And then they saw a cloaked figure standing among the corpses, looking at them.
Beneath the hood, a ghostly blue light glowed.
Click.
“Aaaaargh!” Leina screamed hysterically.
She didn’t realize that the sound had come from the former Commander Helmut on the hatch.
His mutilated body, washed by the downpour, had slid off the roof.
Ten minutes ago, Leina would have noticed.
But now she was not Leina Skraivok — only a prisoner whose soul had been consumed by fear.
And at that moment, she wasn’t the only one in the car a prisoner of fear.
Why else wouldn’t anyone shoot?
“Shh… When someone is about to speak, they should remain silent.” A soft, drawn-out whisper pierced the downpour, the wind howled, and the quiet voice spoke again: “And now, run, heirs of House Skraivok.” “Get out of your precious car and run under the filthy acid rain.
I want your noble lungs to inhale the primordial stench of the Underhive.
I want your pale skin to burn from the acid rain…” “I want you to feel pain.” “I will kill you, but not now.
Torment is always interesting, heirs of House Skraivok.” He laughed softly, and the streetlight glow grew hazy in the rain mist.
“Your backup is already on its way.
For the next twelve hours, you can run, hide, or try to fight back.
But I want you to remember one thing.” The dark shadow slowly stepped forward.
At that single step, Leina’s scream grew louder, Gendor recoiled in terror, and Irene… she could barely stand.
Then he slowly raised his right hand, and beneath the silver blade pressed against his wrist, a tattoo was revealed.
“The Vengeful Spirit has come for you.” With those words, he vanished.
Silence fell over the cabin.
The smell of blood, mixed with stench and cold, rushed inside.
Gendor gasped for air, trying to compose himself.
He glanced at Leina, still trembling with fear, instinctively wanting to mock her to ease his own terror and savor the joy of survival.
But at that moment, he heard an icy breath at his ear.
“Run,” the icy voice commanded.
Five seconds later, three screams rang out in the cabin, and three figures burst outside, throwing all dignity aside as they fled under the filthy acid rain they themselves had created.
Behind them, a low, mad laugh echoed across the night’s darkness.