Leon's hands had gone soft. He had killed too many today, the ground was littered with corpses, rivers of blood flowing everywhere.
He had slit every throat himself, blade in hand, saving the limited bullets for enemies who were a real threat.
As they walked out of the alley, a swarm of scavenger orphans rushed in, wielding sharpened scraps to carve meat from the bodies.
The flesh would be good, better than most, because the blood had been drained.
Leon's father had liked to eat that way. In the gang, he had kept "meat-men," fattened with corpse starch until their skin was pale and plump.
When he craved fresh meat, he'd slit their throats and hang them from hooks to bleed out.
Leon admitted, meat was better than corpse starch.
As a child, he had eaten plenty of people. But as he grew older, he stopped. Teacher Dorothy had told him again and again that it was wrong. And also, he never ate the eyes, except once.
That one time, he had felt everything, the agony of the meat-man in his final moments. Blood poured from his nose and mouth as he convulsed on the stone floor.
After that, he swore never again.
But these orphans? They had no choice. Unlike him, they had no corpse starch to survive on.
At the alley's exit, Curze blocked their way. His cold voice fell upon the terrified children.
"You are guilty. You must atone. Come with me, or die here."
The orphans had no choice. Even grown men had died at Curze's hands. What could they do?
Leon did not mock him this time. His hands were too weak for sarcasm.
They had killed many. But they had also taken many away.
The adults died. The children were taken.
"You forbid us to eat people," Leon said, stepping in front of Curze. "But we can't feed this many mouths."
"We have corpse starch."
Leon shook his head. "The nobles won't hand us food for nothing. My father traded for it, with sorcerers."
"I'll find a way," Curze replied.
Leon said nothing more. Fine. It wasn't his decision anyway. Why waste breath worrying?
Leon's days became routine.
During "daytime," he attended lessons. Curze taught him combat, Teacher Dorothy taught him knowledge, and Caelan taught him how to wield psychic power and reason.
At "night," Curze led them on patrols, hunting those who defied order. In the underhive, there was no morality. Curze never expected scavengers and gangers to understand complex law.
So his order was simple: No murder. No rape.
Other crimes were tolerated, but only if they didn't get caught. Because in Curze's law, the only punishment was death.
Many died. The survivors lived in fear, too afraid to leave their homes. Yet more and more children were sent to the camp.
Some came willingly. Others were taken.
According to Curze, all of them needed redemption.
Leon grew used to this life. His hand grew steady, his throat-slitting precise.
"We are the Midnight Phantoms. We are watching you."
Leon had delivered that warning more than once. He thought it stupid, shameful, even.
But it worked. The living trembled at their name.
And then, war came.
"The Hadrid Gang has declared war on us," Dorothy announced. "Hadrid learned of Yagor's death, and that Bloodclaw territory has been taken by children. He's gathered seventeen neighboring gangs. They've already entered our territory."
The underhive had hundreds of gangs. The great and small alike fought for dominance at the top of the food chain.
The Bloodclaws had once been among the strongest because they controlled one of the lifts, the only link to the upper levels.
The Hadrid Gang controlled another lift. But they wanted more. That was why they declared war.
From the day the Bloodclaws were wiped out, Dorothy had known this moment would come.
The Midnight Phantoms might terrify survivors within Bloodclaw turf. But to the other gangs, they were just children playing at power.
Leon spoke, "Father, had the Bloodclaws built this place like a fortress. As long as we hold the gates, they can't get in."
His confidence wasn't baseless. Though only Caelan and Dorothy were adults, the Bloodclaw's arsenal remained. Their lasguns and scrap-guns far outnumbered those of other gangs. Their defenses were ironclad.
"That's too passive," Curze said coldly. "We must strike first. If they've declared war on the Midnight Phantoms, then the Midnight Phantoms shall pronounce their death sentence."
"That's madness!" Leon shouted, face pale with rage. "The Hadrid Gang is stronger than the Blood Claws! They have a psyker, not a half-trained amateur like me, a real psyker!"
Curze ignored him. Instead, he turned to Caelan, the only opinion that mattered to him.
"Caelan, what do you think?"
"What's your plan?" Caelan asked.
"We infiltrate the Hadrid Gang and kill them all. Just like the Bloodclaws, take the head, and the body dies."
"And what about here?" Caelan pressed. "While we're gone, Hadrid might launch a full assault. Are you ready to abandon this place?"
"I will not abandon the kingdom I worked so hard to build," Curze said. Then he looked at Leon. "While we're gone, you will defend the camp."
Leon's pale face flushed red with fury.
"You killed my father, destroyed my gang, and now you expect me to risk everything to protect yours? You really think I'd agree to that?"
"I do." Curze interrupted Leon's outburst with a single word. "I can see the justice in your heart."
Leon fell silent. His face flushed even deeper, but this time it wasn't just anger; something else stirred within him.
Dorothy watched with a gentle smile. Leon wasn't a bad kid, really. He just lacked proper guidance… and a good father.
…
"Curze, you've grown again."
Curze moved through the shadows, and Caelan's quiet reflection made him glance back.
"You taught me well."
"That only works if you're willing to listen. If I tried preaching like this to anyone else, they'd probably think I'm an idiot."
Caelan's blunt honesty made Curze's pale face crack into a smile. That's right, he was different.
No one else compared. Not Leon. Not Philly.
"You smiled."
"No, you're mistaken." Curze turned away. "We're almost there. Don't make a sound, we'll give ourselves away."
Caelan sighed, a little heartbroken. 'The kid was growing up… starting to rebel. But it hadn't felt that long, had it?'
Curze saw the look on Caelan's face. His heart softened. He lowered his head.
"I'm sorry."
"What?" Caelan didn't catch it.
"I smiled," Curze said with a straight face.