Kariel walked slowly, unhurriedly, to better control the speed at which his blade scraped the wall.
He knew his craft.
He knew at what angle and force to drag the blade across any given surface to produce the shrillest, most monstrous screech.
Of course, he wasn’t doing this for musical experimentation or out of boredom, deciding to carve through the tunnel with his sword.
In truth, there was only one reason.
To sow fear.
People are always afraid of the unknown, and that was exactly what he was after.
Squinting, Kariel froze.
He heard someone up ahead choking with terror, heard ragged breathing and footsteps that his victim was vainly trying to hide.
In the resonant silence of the tunnel, every sound was amplified many times over.
He could kill her right now.
But no.
It wasn’t time yet.
Or rather, it still wasn’t enough.
He stood there for five minutes when a massive shadow dropped down onto him from above.
Ghost, stooping, whispered in his ear: “We’re not going to kill her?” “Of course we will.” “But she got away.” “Not far.
This tunnel will lead her out to Lynch Avenue.
There she’ll find the leader of the Blood Fang gang and ask for his protection.” “Do the Blood Fang people know her?” “No.
But they know the crest of House Skraivok, so they’ll shelter her, albeit with distrust — just like the previous gang.
No one will pass up a chance to forge ties with aristocrats.” “I still don’t understand,” Ghost admitted honestly.
“Kariel, you gave them twelve hours to escape or hide, but the time is almost up.” Kariel’s lips slowly stretched into a grin.
“That’s exactly what I’m aiming for.
The twelve hours are just a ruse, Ghost.” “From the very second I set that deadline, they started counting.
They’ll be nervous, trembling, going mad with anticipation, waiting for those twelve hours to finally run out… Fear will make them forget a lot.” “Oh… so you tricked them?” “Not exactly.” Kariel smirked.
“They have twelve hours to hide, run, or try to fight back.
But when that time is up, they’ll die.
Either way.” Ghost blinked.
He couldn’t yet fully grasp what a nightmare Kariel’s words were for their prey.
But he still had a few more questions.
And Kariel had said he could ask anytime.
“How do you know where they are?” Ghost asked in bewilderment.
“We didn’t even do any reconnaissance before the job.” “I have my own special methods.” “Oh.
You said there were three of them?” “Yes.” “Then why aren’t they sticking together?” “Because House Skraivok needs an heir to inherit the title.
Aristocrats can be strangely stubborn about strange things.
One of them decided that splitting up would increase their chances of survival.” As he said this, a face flashed before Kariel’s eyes.
He decided to leave her for last.
The rain kept falling.
Seven hours of rest had restored Kariel’s strength.
Though his neck was a little stiff from sleeping in the chair, it was a minor thing overall.
“Let’s go, Ghost.
She should have contacted the Blood Fang by now,” Kariel said quietly.
“And remember: when we go in there, be as quiet as possible.” “…Oh,” Ghost replied, confused.
“Strange,” he thought.
“Kariel always demands quiet work.
Why repeat it again?” He didn’t know the reason, and he didn’t need to.
There are many ways to sow fear.
… Leina Skraivok was on the verge of madness.
Filthy, smeared with grime, she huddled in a ball in the cellar of the Blood Fang gang’s hideout, afraid even to breathe.
She was afraid.
Afraid that her breathing would attract the monster lurking in the darkness.
The vengeful… spirit.
Suddenly, someone knocked on the cellar door.
Leina Skraivok instantly raised the submachine gun they’d given her and, without a word, stared at the entrance.
Her eyes were wide open, her mouth slightly agape, but she was afraid to breathe.
The scar that ran across her entire face flushed crimson.
On her once-noble face, a seal of mad despair appeared, making her utterly unlike Leina Skraivok.
“Uh… Lady Leina Skraivok?” an uncertain voice came from behind the door.
“I’m Ralph from the Blood Fang.
Do you need a change of clothes?
Acid rain eats through fabric, my lady… Are you still there?” Blood Fang… Leina exhaled.
Her cheek twitched, but she still couldn’t fully relax.
Getting up, she slowly walked to the corner from which she could see the door, and asked quietly: “Is there any movement outside?” “Huh?” “Outside!
Is there any movement?” “…Is this your first time on Quintus?
It’s raining outside, plus some guys are racing through the streets.
The end of Lynch Avenue is a great spot for races…” Leina Skraivok took a deep breath, suppressing the urge to scream.
In this short exchange, the anxiety rising from the depths of her soul began again to devour the remnants of her sanity.
Her hands started trembling again.
“…No, no, listen to me, Ralph of the Blood Fang.” Clutching the submachine gun to herself, Leina tried with all her might to speak evenly and calmly.
“Your task is simple.
Constantly watch what’s happening outside, and be especially wary of singing.
And also… send someone to contact the Glorious Warlords.
Tell them Leina Skraivok sent you.” “…” The person behind the door muttered something incomprehensible, then replied: “Alright, your grace, we’ll do it.
If you need anything, just call, okay?” Leina didn’t answer.
She just trembled.
This had happened before.
At first, she had been full of hope that she could escape.
The gangsters, seeing her clothes and the crest of House Skraivok, treated her with respect, and that strengthened her confidence.
After all, not every gang had aristocrats backing them.
And even feuding houses didn’t allow their people to kill each other’s offspring in the Underhive outside the Great Purge season.
Then that nightmare had come down the road.
Leina remembered the first gang that sheltered her was called Blood Mist.
They had a whole old building as a hideout, and plenty of people — over two hundred.
Back then, Leina thought she could hold out with them for those twelve hours.
But she was wrong.
The countdown moved slowly, and the last three hours remained.
At that very moment, when she already believed she was saved… The nightmare came.
First, she heard the singing.
Low, drawn-out, with a distinct note of gloom.
The melody was smooth, but it felt like a blade gliding across the tender skin of a neck.
Just like on the road.
The song seeped into the Blood Mist hideout, into everyone’s ears.
And then the ghostly massacre began.
From the lower floor of the building came screams and wails, which, mingling with the roar of gunfire, rose higher and higher until they reached the fourth floor where Leina was hiding… and then stopped.
And what then?
What happened next?
Leina swallowed with a trembling throat, nearly gagging on the taste.
The foul flavor made her realize one thing with despair.
She knew that now there was not a trace left of an offspring of House Skraivok in her.
She breathed in the stench, her skin burned from the acid rain, and most of all… She was scared to death.
So scared that she didn’t even want to remember how the monster had burst onto the top floor and killed everyone before her eyes.
Trembling, Leina took out her watch from her pocket.
Elegant, with a twenty-four-hour dial and the crest of House Skraivok on the lid.
The Underhive dwellers didn’t care about time, but the aristocrats did.
They knew that behind the seething violet-black clouds of Nostramo, a dim sun was hidden.
Leina Skraivok looked at the watch, following the movement of the minute and second hands with hope and trepidation.
On the silver dial, they crawled slowly forward.
The mechanism ticked in time with her heart.
Soon, very soon… The twelve hours were almost up.
She sobbed, crying in the dirty cellar of an Underhive gang she despised.
Her clothes were filthy, her face twisted with despair, grime blackened under her fingernails, and clumps of filth that she had gathered while fleeing in panic caked her fine leather boots.
But… The twelve hours were almost up.
Only five minutes remained.
If she could just survive these five minutes, she would return to the Upper Hive.
Become Leina Skraivok again.
She could, relying on the power of her family, destroy this monster during the Great Purge.
It might have dealt with forty guards, but what about four hundred?
Yes, yes, that’s how it would be.
She burst into sobs, but now it was laughter through tears.
Despair and hope alternated on her dirty face.
She stared at the watch, mentally counting the seconds, praying for time to go faster.
And then.
Finally.
Five minutes… passed.
The second hand made its round, followed by the minute hand, and then the hour hand.
They passed the antique numerals, continuing their course on the dial that only aristocrats could read.
Leina froze, looking at the watch.
One second, two, three… Trembling, she stood up.
Tears still streamed down her cheeks, but now they were tears of mad joy.
The corners of her lips curled upward; she barely held back from bursting into laughter.
From behind the cellar door, there was no sound of the massacre from before.
It meant the monster hadn’t found her.
It had lost the trail!
Slowly, step by step, she climbed the stairs, her boots thudding dully on the wood.
Leina Skraivok, full of hope, pushed open the cellar door and saw… Corpses.
And a dark shadow.
And then — quiet singing.
Low, drawn-out, with a distinct note of gloom.
The melody was smooth, but it felt like a blade gliding across the tender skin of a neck.
“No, no, no!” in the last moment of her life, Leina Skraivok let out a tearing scream, like the death cry of a cornered beast.