Kariel, covered in blood, returned to his Sanctuary.
In the dark room, two were already waiting for him.
Ghost was squatting in the corner of the room, absently filing his nails.
His black hair fell carelessly over his forehead, his face was bloody, and chunks of flesh hung from his body.
Seeing this, Kariel realized he had probably torn someone to pieces again.
As for the second person… Kariel looked at her.
The woman was unconscious.
Her metal right arm was gone, torn off at the shoulder.
Judging by the ragged wound, Ghost had probably just ripped her arm off.
“Is he dead?” Ghost suddenly asked.
“Dead,” Kariel replied.
“By the way, could you step outside for a moment, Ghost?” “Why?” “You stink too much, Ghost, that’s why.
I believe we agreed that you would maintain personal hygiene.” Ghost frowned: “You’re covered in blood yourself.” “Don’t misunderstand me, Ghost.” Kariel took off his bloody cloak with a forced smile, threw it out the door, and, grinning, pulled up his rickety chair and sat down.
“Any more questions?” … Ghost said nothing more, but turned and left.
His hearing allowed him to hear clearly everything that happened in the room, even from a distance, so his presence or absence didn’t really matter.
Still, he still didn’t understand why Kariel insisted he leave.
Perhaps someday he would understand.
The rickety door creaked shut.
The smile on Kariel’s face vanished instantly.
His muscles relaxed, and calm settled on his pale face.
“It’s time for you to wake up,” Kariel said.
“Pretending to be asleep is not the best choice.” The woman slowly opened her eyes.
She was very calm, as if she clearly understood her situation.
Unfortunately, not entirely.
“So the vengeful spirit has helpers…” the woman said slowly.
“But you probably don’t even know what your helper has done?” “He killed a few people who deserved it.” “He tore my machine apart in front of everyone, tore my bodyguards apart… And I, before I was forced to leave, managed to give my name to those despicable bastards.
Soon, House Skraivok will learn what happened here.” A predatory smile slowly spread across the woman’s face, full of undisguised malice.
She described her kidnapping as a “forced departure.” How amusing.
The smile that had just left Kariel’s face returned.
“Is that so?
And which house do you belong to?
Which count?” “You know quite a bit…” the woman sneered coldly.
Kariel’s words seemed to confirm some thought of hers.
Covered in blood, she sat miserably on the dirty floor, but acted as if she were the one in control.
Kariel’s smile grew even wider.
He was silent, only breathing slowly, as if plotting something.
And the woman mistook this omen of doom for something else.
“If you don’t want to be tortured for a decade, you’d better let me go… You won’t escape, vengeful spirit.” She looked at Kariel sitting on the chair with hatred, emphasizing his absurd nickname.
“I don’t know who is backing you, I don’t know who provided you with technical support and even gave you an iron golem with a primitive mind…” At this point, she screamed: “But House Skraivok will find you!
And your only chance to survive is to let me go from this filthy, godforsaken place!” Kariel finally laughed quietly.
“Iron golem… Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha…” His laughter echoed through the dark room.
“You really think he’s one of those killing machines made by craftsmen…” “Is he not?
Don’t try to fool me!” “You are very witty, my lady,” Kariel said quietly.
“But I cannot stand wit.” He stood up and kicked the woman without hesitation.
The force of the blow was calculated perfectly: to the stomach, causing her intense pain but not losing the ability to speak.
For aristocrats, this was nothing.
They had a deep-rooted tradition: throwing their growing offspring into the Underhive to be hunted by gangs and commoners.
Only the survivors could claim a title in the family.
The woman spat out blood.
She struggled to her feet and pounded the floor furiously with her remaining left hand: “For this, I will flay you alive!
You worthless bastard!
Who do you think you are?!” Kariel silently kicked her again.
This time, the blow was a little stronger.
Enough to injure and humiliate her, but not so much that her adrenaline level peaked.
He needed her to feel fear, not to drown it in rage.
Kariel could control his strength precisely, so he easily achieved this.
It was one of the many reasons he was still surviving on Nostramo.
The woman flew back and crashed into the spot where Ghost usually liked to sit.
Two ribs were broken, and several teeth flew from her mouth.
After a painful groan, full of humiliated rage, she got up without hesitation and lunged at Kariel, shouting incoherent curses.
A pale hand shot out sharply from the darkness, stopping her blind rush and grabbing her by the throat.
Feeling this real, brutal strength, fear finally appeared on the woman’s face.
She finally understood that this so-called vengeful spirit, who had been killing with impunity in the Underhive for the past year and a half, was not what they had assumed.
He was not a private soldier sent by some aristocrat before the Great Purge, nor was he an agent planted in advance… He didn’t care about the “rules of the game” that the aristocrats knew and observed!
Grabbing her by the throat, Kariel dragged her out of the room.
Ghost, meanwhile, had already climbed onto the roof of the Sanctuary and, like a wild beast, was squatting there, silently watching what was happening below.
And that night on Nostramo… it was still raining.
The night was endless, but the neon lights the gangs used to mark their territories pierced the darkness, casting strange shadows in the sky.
An acid-stinking, poisonous rain fell from the sky, and it seemed to be getting heavier.
Under the pouring rain, Kariel spoke slowly: “I suppose you’re racking your brain right now, trying to figure out who’s backing me, that I dare to do such a thing.” The woman, with her remaining left hand, frantically beat his right hand, trying to make him loosen his fingers.
The lack of oxygen and the fact that her feet weren’t touching the ground drained her strength to fight.
“But there is no one behind me,” Kariel said.
“No aristocrat supports me, no house stands behind my back.
Unbelievable, isn’t it?” He opened his hand with a smile.
The woman fell miserably to the ground, clutching her throat and greedily gasping for air, punctuating her breathing with violent coughs.
Kariel, without looking at her, spread his arms, enjoying the streams of rain.
A burning pain came from the exposed areas of his skin, but he didn’t care.
He was long used to it.
He squatted down.
“Allow me to tell you something, my lady.” Kariel looked into her eyes and said quietly: “Not everything in this world follows your rules.” “For hundreds, thousands of years, Nostramo has lived by your laws.
The people of the Underhive lived like dogs, gnawing at each other in the dark.
Gangs divided territory, collecting taxes for you and oppressing the people.” “And you?
You just sat in your palaces and enjoyed life, inventing new and new ways to gratify your depraved existence.” Kariel bared his teeth in a smile, showing white teeth in the damp air.
“And I am very dissatisfied with this… Honestly, I am furious.” He raised his right hand, showing the woman a tattoo on his wrist.
Her eyes widened sharply, and she immediately shouted a name: “Lokhars!” “You guessed it…” Kariel smirked, stood up, and made an elegant courtly bow, his voice becoming low.
“The last scion of House Lokhars, Kariel Lokhars, greets you, my lady.” The woman finally let out a frightened scream and, pushing with her hands and feet, crawled backward, trying to escape.
But Kariel was already pouncing on her with a predatory smile.
Chunks of flesh flew.
… “I thought you were going to interrogate her.” “Uh-huh.” “But it seems you didn’t get anything from her.” “Oh, really?” “You didn’t let me kill her, but you killed her yourself.” “…Can you let me be quiet for a bit, Ghost?” Kariel turned irritably and looked at Ghost, who was sitting in the darkness: “I’m planning what to do next!” “Oh.” Silence.
Kariel closed his eyes, but in the end, he couldn’t help but grimace.
He turned again and asked: “You’re probably curious about what that woman was talking about?” “She said your last name and seemed scared to death,” Ghost nodded.
“Why?
Did she know you?” “No, she didn’t know me, but she knew this tattoo.” Saying this, Kariel raised his right hand and showed the tattoo to Ghost.
“A bloody knife?” Ghost asked, puzzled.
“What can this symbol mean?” “It means a house,” Kariel smirked sardonically.
“A house that specialized in executions.
Their methods were so cruel that even those aristocrats who loved torture and torment couldn’t stand them.
That’s why she was scared.” “The previous and last count of this house bore the name Guy Lokhars, also known as the ‘Count-Executioner.’ He was a cruel executioner, devoid of all morality and humanity, who adored killing.” “As for House Lokhars… its founder was a very lucky bastard.
Five hundred and thirty-one years ago, he rose from the very bottom.
In the aristocrats’ game called the ‘Great Purge,’ he went from a dirty dog of a gang to one of the oppressors.” “So you’re an aristocrat too?” Ghost asked.
“No,” Kariel shook his head.
“Don’t compare me to them, Ghost.” “House Lokhars broke the rules of the game during the Great Purge twenty years ago.
Guy Lokhars tried to kill one of the lords and seize his domains.
His actions were exposed by a traitor from his own family, and the entire house was sentenced to the highest punishment.” “They all died?” “Yes, they all died.” “But…” “But?” “But you didn’t die.” “Yes,” Kariel smiled weakly.
“I was the traitor, so I didn’t die.” Having received the explanation, Ghost not only didn’t relax his furrowed brows but, on the contrary, furrowed them even more: “But your age doesn’t add up… Twenty years ago, you were still a child.
How could you have informed on them?” “A child born in sin.
A child who came into being from the blood of victims and was nourished by their flesh,” Kariel corrected him softly.
“The traitor was someone else, and I…” He shook his head.
“I betrayed this entire accursed class of aristocrats,” he said.
“Whether to believe it or not is up to you, Ghost.
As for the truth… ha.” He laughed softly: “The truth has long since scattered to the wind.”