Kariel slowly returned to the Sanctuary, spending almost an hour and a half on it. Fatigue and pain from the overuse of that power were taking their toll, but the main reason was that he had gathered some information about his prey.
A hunter must always possess such things, or at least catch traces… otherwise, what kind of pursuit can there be?
Pulling himself up with his hands, he climbed onto the roof of the building. As expected, the Ghost was squatting on the roof of the Sanctuary, looking at their rainwater filter.
He loved drinking filtered, slightly bitter water, so he cherished this device.
A cold wind blew, and the downpour fell with furious force. The cloak no longer protected against such a storm, and Kariel's clothes were soaked through. A windy, rainy night on Nostramo was a difficult trial even for him.
He was cold, his wet skin ached, but it didn't matter.
A flash of blue light, and Kariel appeared on the roof.
"Ghost."
The huge dark figure, squatting, suddenly turned around and, breaking through the curtain of rain, rushed down:
"Kariel! Are you okay?"
"I'm fine, thank you for your concern, Ghost. Now come inside… I told you to stay inside in bad weather, didn't I?"
"But…" The Ghost moved aside, finding himself behind Kariel, and said uncertainly, "I won't see you return if I'm inside."
Kariel froze for a moment, but then, as if nothing had happened, continued:
"You can hear my footsteps when I return, can't you?"
"The rain is heavy," said the Ghost. "And the wind. I didn't hear you return."
"…"
Kariel silently walked to the Sanctuary door, carefully lifted the new door, and only then pushed it open.
Compared to its predecessor, this one was a little more intact. Though not much, it was enough.
The choice was always limited.
Slowly entering, Kariel took off his cloak and threw it in the corner. The downpour had washed away all the blood; it didn't need to be washed, and it couldn't be washed anymore.
It had almost fallen apart.
The Ghost quietly closed the door and habitually returned to his corner, starting to pick at a board with his fingernail. Seeing this, Kariel couldn't help but sigh.
"Kariel?"
"Hm?"
"Why did you sigh?"
There was clear timidity in the Ghost's voice, and Kariel, standing with his back to him, paused for a moment.
"…Because I have mixed feelings right now, Ghost."
"Is it because I did my job poorly?"
"No, no, you did an excellent job. I checked everything on the way, every post is cleared. You're doing great, Ghost."
"But…"
"It's okay, Ghost."
Kariel turned around and smiled at the Ghost. He sat on his broken chair and saw a chipped tin mug nearby.
A cup of bitter filtered water awaited him in it.
He took it and began to drink in small sips. His body was in terrible condition, and he really needed water or a nutrient paste. But of these two evils, Kariel preferred the former.
"Thank you for preparing water for me, Ghost," said Kariel. "And our plan was a success, largely thanks to you."
"Really?"
"Of course, it's true."
"But…" the Ghost began uncertainly. "I don't think clearing the posts had much significance for the whole plan. The main thing is the people of House Scryvok, and they are your target."
Kariel did not answer immediately. He took another sip. Through the bitterness spreading on his tongue, he asked,
"So, how does it feel?"
"Huh?"
"Your first independent job. How does it feel, Ghost?"
The Ghost fell silent, which was quite expected. Kariel was not surprised – he did not expect deep reflections from a year-and-a-half-old child. Even if this child was over two meters tall and could tear an armored vehicle with his bare hands.
Strength and intellect were never linked.
But such a conversation was necessary.
People cannot truly understand each other, even relatives. Perfect communication is one of the most valuable achievements of human evolution, and Kariel was not going to neglect it.
"I…"
The Ghost looked ahead blankly, his gaze not fixed on Kariel. He looked into the darkness, and the darkness looked back at him with the same intense gaze.
Kariel waited patiently.
"I feel very bad," the Ghost said slowly.
"Because you killed them?"
"No, because…"
"Because?"
"Because they are all crying," the Ghost said, pursing his lips. "Kariel, they are not human, but why are they crying?"
A good question.
Kariel put down the mug.
"Because of fear."
"Fear?"
Kariel smiled slightly.
"Yes, because they are afraid of death. Like anger, fear makes people do things they might not want to do. Let me guess, did someone beg you for mercy today?"
"…Yes," the Ghost replied quietly. "Barry, his name was Barry."
The Ghost paused for a moment, and Kariel simply listened, without interrupting or questioning.
He was always a good listener.
"He was crying and begging me for mercy, saying that House Scryvok forced him to oppress workers. As you said, I asked him."
The Ghost raised his head and looked at Kariel. He could see in the pitch darkness, so he saw the calmness on Kariel's face.
"I asked him if House Scryvok forced them to eat people, open butcher shops, kill, kidnap, dismember on the streets, rob… he froze."
"I told him that since he accepted becoming a servant of House Scryvok and enjoyed its benefits, he had no right to complain."
"And then he said that he joined the gang because he wanted to live."
The Ghost pursed his lips.
"He wasn't lying, Kariel, he really thought so. But why? Is it possible to survive on Nostramo only by oppressing and using violence?"
Another good question, deserving of a long night's conversation.
"It depends on what you consider living, Ghost," Kariel leaned back in his chair and tilted his head back.
The wet clothes continued to cause pain, but he couldn't take them off – the fabric, heavy with acid rain, could tear off his skin.
Kariel didn't have the extra strength to heal, nor did he want to spend it on such a thing.
Besides, there was a benefit to this pain.
Pain helps maintain clarity of mind.
"Living is just living?" the Ghost asked in bewilderment.
"No, not quite… Everyone has their own answer to this question. Since you asked, I will share my opinion, Ghost."
"You can listen, you can remember, but don't take it as your own thoughts. In the future, you will have your own answers to these questions," Kariel began softly.
"In my opinion, there are two ways to live. The first is like the jagged beasts outside the city. To seek only food for satiety, a cave for shelter, a mate for procreation. And think about nothing else.
The second way is different.
To seek delicious food. To seek a home that not only protects from the weather but is also cozy and beautiful. To seek someone you love and who loves you… and continuation of life, children.
Do you see the difference, Ghost?"
And again, the Ghost answered Kariel with his characteristic bewildered gaze.
The spectral killer laughed, and his laughter echoed through the Sanctuary. Outside, the wind howled, and his laughter, mixing with it, did not seem frightening.
"…I don't see the difference, Kariel," the Ghost replied with a hint 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 normal that you don't understand. No one expects a year-and-a-half-old child to understand such things. But I want you to remember one thing."
"What?"
Kariel said quietly:
"That man, Barry, he strived for the second."
The Ghost's eyes widened in surprise. Kariel had described the second life so beautifully that he didn't understand what Barry could have to do with it.
"In fact, 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."
"The path?"
"Yes, the path… It's not entirely their fault. This world is sick, Ghost."
Kariel tilted his head back, closed his eyes, and sighed with weariness. His voice became even quieter, like a whisper before sleep or a murmur in a dream.
"Everyone wants to live better, everyone wants to live with dignity. No one wants to work eighteen hours in terrible conditions in a factory, and then, dragging themselves from exhaustion, return home to a smelly, cramped hovel, cough blood, and infect their family…"
The Ghost saw a drop of rain slide down Kariel's face.
"No one wants to endure this, and no one should. But they are forced to. They have only two choices: join a gang or die on some dark night.
Those who choose the second are forced to swallow everything: suffering, grief, anger, despair… Some tried to resist, but their resistance was worth nothing against assault rifles.
It shouldn't be like this, Ghost," Kariel said quietly. "This world shouldn't be like this."
"…Are you sad, Kariel?" the Ghost asked cautiously.
"No."
"But it seems 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 complete the final stage of our plan. So, wake me up in seven hours, alright?"
"…Okay, Kariel," the Ghost replied quietly.
For some reason, at that moment, the Ghost felt sad.
But not because of Barry.
***
Read the story months before public release — early chapters are on my Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/Granulan