Kariel returned to the Sanctuary slowly, taking almost an hour and a half.
Fatigue and the pain from overusing that power were taking their toll, but the main reason was that he’d spent some time gathering information about his quarry.
A hunter must always be in command of such things, or at least pick up the trail… otherwise, how can there be any talk of a pursuit?
Pulling himself up with his arms, he climbed onto the building’s roof.
As expected, Ghost was crouching on the roof of the Sanctuary, watching their rainwater filter.
He loved to drink the filtered, slightly bitter water, and so treasured this device.
A cold wind blew; the downpour hammered down with relentless fury.
His cloak was no protection against such weather, and Kariel’s clothes were soaked through.
A windy, rainy night on Nostramo was a severe trial even for him.
He was cold, his soaked skin ached, but it didn’t matter.
A flash of blue light, and Kariel appeared on the roof.
“Ghost.” The huge, dark figure crouching there spun around sharply and, breaking through the curtain of rain, rushed down: “Kariel!
Are you alright?” “I’m fine, thanks for your concern, Ghost.
Now get inside… I told you to stay in the house in bad weather, didn’t I?” “But…” Ghost moved aside, ending up behind Kariel, and said uncertainly, “Inside, I wouldn’t see you come back.” Kariel paused for a moment, but then continued as if nothing had happened: “You can hear my footsteps when I return, can’t you?” “The rain is heavy,” Ghost said.
“And the wind.
I didn’t hear you come back.” “…” Kariel silently walked to the door of the Sanctuary, carefully lifted the new door, and only then pushed it open.
Compared to its predecessor, this one was in slightly better shape.
Not by much, but it was enough.
The choices are always limited.
Stepping slowly inside, Kariel took off his cloak and threw it into a corner.
The downpour had washed off all the blood; it didn’t need washing, and in fact, couldn’t be washed anymore.
It was nearly falling apart.
Ghost quietly closed the door and habitually returned to his corner, starting to pick at a floorboard with his fingernail.
Seeing this, Kariel couldn’t help but sigh.
“Kariel?” “Mmm?” “Why did you sigh?” There was clear timidity in Ghost’s voice, and Kariel, who had his back to him, paused for a moment.
“…Because I have mixed feelings right now, Ghost.” “Is it because I did a bad job?” “No, no, you did an excellent job.
I checked everything on the way back — every outpost was cleaned up.
You did well, Ghost.” “But…” “It’s alright, Ghost.” Kariel turned around and smiled at Ghost.
He sat down on his broken chair and saw a chipped tin mug beside him.
A cup of bitter filtered water was waiting in it.
He picked it up and began to drink in small sips.
His body was in terrible shape, and he really needed water or a nutrient paste.
But of those two evils, Kariel preferred the first.
“Thank you for preparing the water for me, Ghost,” Kariel said.
“And our plan succeeded, largely thanks to you.” “Really?” “Of course, really.” “But…” Ghost began uncertainly.
“I don’t think cleaning up the outposts was that important to the whole plan.
The main thing is the people of House Skraivok, and they’re your target.” Kariel didn’t answer right away.
He took another sip.
Through the bitterness spreading across his tongue, he asked: “So, how do you feel?” “Huh?” “Your first independent job.
How does it feel, Ghost?” Ghost fell silent, which was quite expected.
Kariel wasn’t surprised — he hadn’t expected deep reflections from a one-and-a-half-year-old child.
Even if that child was over two meters tall and could rip open an armored vehicle with his bare hands.
Strength and intelligence were never linked.
But such a conversation was necessary.
People can never truly understand each other, not even relatives.
Perfect communication ability is one of the most valuable achievements of human evolution, and Kariel wasn’t about to neglect it.
“I…” Ghost stared blankly ahead, his gaze not on Kariel.
He was looking into the darkness, and the darkness stared back just as intently.
Kariel waited patiently.
“I feel very unwell,” Ghost said slowly.
“Because you killed them?” “No, because…” “Because?” “Because they all cry,” Ghost said, pursing his lips.
“Kariel, they’re not people, but why do they cry?” A good question.
Kariel set down the mug.
“Because of fear.” “Fear?” Kariel smiled slightly.
“Yes, because they’re afraid of death.
Like anger, fear makes people do things they might not want to.
Let me guess — someone begged you for mercy today?” “…Yes,” Ghost replied quietly.
“Barry.
His name was Barry.” Ghost paused for a moment, and Kariel simply listened, without interrupting or questioning.
He had always been a good listener.
“He cried and begged me for mercy.
He said House Skraivok forced him to oppress the workers.
Like you said, I asked him.” Ghost raised his head and looked at Kariel.
He could see in the pitch darkness, so he saw the calm on Kariel’s face.
“I asked him if House Skraivok forced them to eat people, open butcher shops, kill, kidnap, cut people up on the streets, rob… he froze.” “I told him that since he’d resigned himself to being a servant of House Skraivok and enjoyed the benefits, he had nothing to complain about.” “And then he said he joined the gang because he wanted to live.” Ghost pursed his lips.
“He wasn’t lying, Kariel.
He really thought that way.
But why?
Is it impossible to survive on Nostramo without oppressing and using violence?” Another good question, worthy of a long night’s conversation.
“It depends on what you consider ‘living,’ Ghost.” Kariel leaned back in his chair and tilted his head up.
His soaked clothes still hurt, but he couldn’t take them off — the fabric, heavy with acid rain, could strip his skin off.
Kariel didn’t have the extra strength for healing, and he didn’t want to waste it on that.
Besides, there was some benefit to this pain.
Pain helps keep the mind clear.
“Isn’t living just… living?” Ghost asked in bewilderment.
“No, not quite… Everyone has their own answer to that question.
Since you asked, I’ll share my opinion, Ghost.” “You can listen, you can remember, but don’t mistake it for your own thoughts.
In the future, you’ll have your own answers to these questions,” Kariel began softly.
“As I see it, there are two ways to live.
The first is like the cog-beasts outside the city.
Only seek food to fill yourself, a cave for shelter, a partner for mating.
And think of nothing else.” “The second way is different.” “Seek food that tastes good.
Seek a home that not only protects you from the weather but is cozy and beautiful.
Seek someone you love and who loves you… and the continuation of life, children.” “Do you see the difference, Ghost?” And once again, Ghost answered Kariel with his characteristic bewildered look.
The Ghost Assassin laughed, and his laughter echoed through the Sanctuary.
The wind howled outside the window, and his laughter, mingling with it, didn’t sound frightening.
“…I don’t see the difference, Kariel,” Ghost replied, with a note of disappointment.
He was so easy to read; all his emotions were written on his face like an open book.
Kariel was still laughing and shook his head.
“It’s okay that you don’t understand.
No one expects a year-and-a-half-old child to grasp such things.
But I want you to remember one thing.” “What?” Kariel said quietly: “That man, Barry — he was striving for the second.” Ghost’s eyes widened in surprise.
Kariel had described the second life so beautifully that he couldn’t understand what relation Barry could possibly have to it.
“Actually, Ghost, all the gangs and aristocrats on Nostramo strive for the second.
But that doesn’t mean the second is bad.
They just chose the wrong path, and that path is terrible.” “Path?” “Yes, a path… You can’t blame only them.
This world is sick, Ghost.” Kariel tilted his head back, closed his eyes, and sighed wearily.
His voice grew even quieter, like a whisper before sleep or a muttering in a dream.
“Everyone wants to live better, everyone wants to live with dignity.
No one wants to work eighteen hours in terrible conditions at a factory, then drag themselves home, exhausted, to a stinking, cramped shack, cough up blood, and infect their family…” Ghost saw a raindrop slide down Kariel’s face.
“No one wants to endure that, and no one should have to.
But they’re forced to.
They only have two choices: join a gang or die one dark night.” “Those who choose the second are forced to swallow everything: suffering, grief, anger, despair… Some tried to resist, but their resistance meant nothing against machine guns.” “It shouldn’t be this way, Ghost,” Kariel said quietly.
“This world shouldn’t be like this.” “…Are you sad, Kariel?” Ghost asked cautiously.
“No.” “But it seems like you…” “Wake me up in seven hours, okay, Ghost?” “Huh?” “I need to rest a bit,” Kariel opened his eyes and smiled calmly.
“We need to finish the last stage of our plan.
So, wake me up in seven hours, alright?” “…Okay, Kariel,” Ghost replied softly.
For some reason, at that moment, Ghost felt sad.
But not because of Barry.