"Shouldn't you save some ammo? Do we have enough for three more days?"
Michel scratched his head. "Well, most of these run on solar panels. Mine's still full. As for our spares... should be enough until we reach Luen."
Sylene was quiet, lost in thought. Michel assumed he was worried.
"Do you have anything other than guns?" Sylene finally asked. "Don't you fight them with bare hands?"
It was the first time he had seen ghouls taken down by high-powered nanoparticle weapons. When he trained, his claws were always left coated in the creatures' rotting remains—annoying to clean. And the ghouls he had fought were much larger and heavier.
"Ah, I get it," Michel said, reaching into his belt. "Here, take this."
He handed Sylene a simple but sharp dagger—nothing fancy, but sturdy enough to get the job done.
Sylene was grateful. If the situation was urgent, a dagger was far better than tearing through those rancid creatures with his bare hands just to shatter their cores. "Thanks."
Michel, seemingly eager to distract him from watching the ghouls, the young man kept rambling.
"It's just a dagger. Small, but better than nothing, right? At least it'll make you feel a bit safer. Besides, they stink. I don't wanna be the one stuck cleaning weapons again—they always leave that job to me."
"The exoskeletons are a pain to deal with too," the young man added. "The damn things get stuck with rotten flesh or—hell—something as stupid as a can opener."
Sylene glanced at the massive VX weapons outside. "Where'd you get those... nanoweapons? They look heavy." And cool.
He imagined owning one himself. Traveling between cities meant he sometimes had to deal with ghouls alone. An exoskeleton would be useful too—those things enhanced a person's strength a hundredfold. And best of all, he wouldn't have to deal with the stench. Especially in winter, when water sources were frozen solid.
"Can they..." he hesitated, "pass security if you bring them on a train or something?"
Michel frowned at Sylene, clearing his throat as if debating whether to scold him or simply explain. His sharp gaze lingered on the boy before he finally spoke.
"Your master... or your family must have really kept you sheltered if you don't know this," he muttered, reaching into his coat.
He pulled out a cardholder, flipping it open to reveal a metallic ID embedded with a flickering holographic insignia. Next to it was another card—a permit, lined with intricate security patterns.
"You need a license to own these machines," he continued, tapping the card with a sense of pride. "Only soldiers and mercenaries are allowed to carry them. Some nobles stockpile them in secret, but me? I got my permit last year!"
That explained why he was always the one stuck cleaning the equipment—he was still new to the responsibility.
Sylene nodded in understanding.
"Bryent got me these machines as a coming-of-age present. Pretty cool, huh?" Michel grinned, swiping his fingers across the permit. The card flickered, and a three-dimensional hologram projected from its surface—a detailed model of the VX nanoweapon.
The shimmering blue display hovered in the air, rotating slowly as Michel stretched the particles with a flick of his hand. The weapon's intricate structure unfolded before Sylene's eyes, revealing its sleek yet deadly design.
"It's too cool," Sylene murmured, his gaze fixated on the glowing schematics.
"Well, to be precise, you got it from all of us, young man," a voice interjected.
The carriage door suddenly swung open, letting in a rush of icy wind. Michel's expression twisted in annoyance as he swiftly dismissed the holographic display.
Standing in the doorway, Bire smirked, adjusting a sleek black device hooked over his right ear—a sound enhancer.
Michel clicked his tongue. "Tch. So that's how you could hear us." He glanced at Bire, who stood relaxed—it seemed they were done with the ghouls.
Bire only chuckled, tucking his VX away with practiced ease.
Sylene, still absorbed in thought, scratched his cheek. "Are they expensive?"
His voice was quieter now, thoughtful. They must be...
If he wanted to survive—no, if he wanted revenge—a VX weapon would be essential. It would be his advantage, his equalizer. If those vampire soldiers ever came for him, he would be ready. He could already picture it—the weapon in his hands, the crackling energy, the sharp recoil as it fired. And the aftermath.
The satisfaction of watching those damned scientists fall.
Especially him.
Rosencraft.
His grip tightened, fingers curling so hard his nails bit into his palms. The image burned in his mind—Q96's body, cold and pale, sprawled lifeless on the operating table. His twin, unmoving. Gone.
Vampire soldiers were already monsters in battle, but purebloods? They were something far worse. Even with his strength, he wouldn't stand a chance in a group fight. And the nobles… they wouldn't stay silent if something happened to their precious head scientist.
That man's twisted experiments had brought results—results that had pleased the wealthiest and most powerful houses, both vampire and human alike. A billion Kroft project, its success lined with suffering.
Michel's voice pulled him back to reality.
"Yeah, they're expensive," he said, running a hand through his hair. "The ammo alone costs a fortune. Even the cheapest VX will set you back fifty gold coins."
Bire scoffed. "You know we saved up just to get yours, right? Took on some extra dangerous jobs for that money."
Michel rolled his eyes. "And you want a reward, huh?"
"How about making that soup tonight?" Bire smirked. "Been a while since we had it."
Michel snorted, arms crossed. "Fine. If we have the ingredients."
Bire, satisfied, whistled as he carefully secured his gun alongside Simon's. The door remained open, letting the frigid air seep in. The sky overhead remained an unbroken mass of heavy gray clouds, casting a dim, eerie light over the land.
Michel shivered. "Hey, close the door—"
His words were cut off as a silver flash sliced through the air.
The dagger whistled past Bire's ear, embedding itself deep into something behind him.
A chilling shriek shattered the stillness.
Simon lurched forward, his steps uneven, his leg drenched in crimson. Ragged gasps tore from his throat as he staggered toward them.
"There's another pack—too many ghouls—!"
Dark, twisted figures emerged from the shadows, their rotting bodies lurching toward the carriage from all directions.
"Shit!"
Bire barely had time to register the ghoul's corpse behind him—its head impaled, the silver dagger lodged deep in its skull, its core shattered in an instant.
Michel was already moving, ripping the railgun from its harness. He nearly tossed Simon's weapon back, but Bryent's voice cut through the chaos, sharp and commanding.
"GET INSIDE! WE'RE LEAVING—NOW!"
Bire shoved Michel back, his grip firm, already reaching for the VX nano-machine strapped to his side. His movements were swift, precise—every second mattered.
"Stay here. Don't go out."
"I'm helping Simon," Michel shot back, urgency sharpening his tone.
Bire shook his head. "No, I am. You tend to his leg in the carriage, then I'll get to the driver's seat and help them navigate."
Michel hesitated, torn. His instincts screamed at him to stay on lookout, to fight—but deep down, he knew he'd only slow things down if he insisted. Gritting his teeth, he gave a reluctant nod and turned toward Simon, who was struggling just a few feet from the carriage.
Sylene's sharp gaze caught Bire slipping an earphone back in. The sleek black device extended its antenna along his right ear, flickering with a faint pulse of energy. Without a word, Bire stepped toward the ghoul's corpse and yanked the silver dagger from its skull. The creature's core had already shattered, its remains twitching uselessly in the cold dirt.
He glanced at Sylene, his expression unreadable. "Thanks, kid," he muttered. "If you'd missed, that dagger would've gone through my head instead."
Sylene caught the weapon as Bire tossed it back, wiping the bloodstained blade against a scrap of fabric with practiced ease. His voice was calm, detached.
"Thank God I didn't miss."
Something flickered in Bire's sharp gaze—calculation, curiosity, perhaps even suspicion. He was measuring him.
Sylene merely sheathed the dagger. "I can keep guard here and help Michel."
Bire hesitated, leaving the young man with Sylene, but there was no time for doubt. He gave a quick nod before turning back to Simon, grabbing the injured man's arm and throwing it over his shoulder. With effortless strength, he hauled him toward the carriage, hoisted him inside, and leapt into the driver's seat in one fluid motion—still firing his VX at the ghouls that had drawn near.