Looking at them, the Ghost blinked.
Over time, as he got more used to this job... he began to realize that constantly tearing people apart with his nails was not the best choice.
First, there were always a lot of scraps left afterward.
Second, he was constantly covered in blood.
And now he was covered in blood. Moreover, there was even a piece of meat hanging on his shoulder, swaying with his movements.
All of this was evidence of the massacre.
Furthermore, confusion was clearly visible on his pale face.
A fast and efficient killer should not look so confused.
And the reason, perhaps, should be asked from the one who walked back and forth in front of him, continuously dragging corpses.
"What are you doing, Kariel?" the Ghost asked in confusion.
Kariel did not answer, only dragged two dead aristocrats away and threw them in the hall, not forgetting to wipe his bloody hands on their clothes.
What was he doing?
The answer was obvious – dragging corpses, with his own hands. He carried the bodies that had accumulated in the corridor one by one into the main hall.
Kariel did not use that power for this. He knew he could, but he didn't want to.
He didn't want to.
After all, who knows if it really has no price?
With such an inexplicable and strange power, it's better to be careful.
Moreover, if even for carrying things to use it, then why does a person have hands?
The meaning of evolution is not to turn into a sloth that knows only pleasure.
"Kariel?"
The Ghost called again, not forgetting to clean scraps of flesh from under his nails.
"We've finished the job, can we go back to the Sanctuary?"
"Don't rush, Ghost."
Kariel replied without turning around and continued to drag corpses.
"But..."
The Ghost looked back at the growing pile of bodies in the hall and frowned:
"Shouldn't we quickly leave the crime scene after finishing the work? You said so yourself."
"Sometimes not. I said that too."
"Won't we be discovered?" the Ghost asked again.
Kariel chuckled quietly.
He would be glad if they came.
"Even if they discover us, it's no big deal, Ghost."
Kariel explained gently:
"First, most aristocrats don't pay attention to what's happening on another house's territory. They won't condemn each other's ways of relaxing. In my opinion, this is their only virtue.
Second... this is a rare opportunity.
Opportunity?
Yes, an opportunity," Kariel turned and nodded. "A very rare opportunity for you."
By this time, he had finally finished clearing the corpses scattered haphazardly in the corridor. All of them had been moved by him to the hall, every single one.
Then he walked to the end of the corridor, pushed open a large door covered in dark patterned leather, and peeked inside.
"Great, go take a shower," he said, turning and clapping his hands with satisfaction.
The Ghost blinked, his face showing some bewilderment.
He didn't expect that the rare opportunity Kariel spoke of would be this.
"...A shower?"
"Yes, a shower."
Kariel nodded, leaned against the crimson wall, and crossed his arms. An unusually light smile played on his face.
"Everyone should maintain hygiene. It helps to avoid microbes and prevent unnecessary illnesses. And, of course, the most important thing...
Kariel raised his head, looked at the ceiling, and sighed silently.
...when warm water flows over the body, it brings temporary relaxation.
This is very important, Ghost. If you feel tension, you need to find a way to release it. Understand?"
"Relaxation?" the Ghost asked in confusion. "I washed under acid rain, Kariel, and didn't feel any relaxation..."
Kariel turned away, not immediately responding to the Ghost's remark. After a moment, he spoke:
"...Washing under acid rain, strictly speaking, cannot be called purification, Ghost. Did you know that acid rain is actually household waste that aristocrats dump?"
The Ghost was stunned. In a split second, his expression changed.
"I, I..." he stammered. "But... me?!"
"Just go and wash yourself now."
Kariel's voice was even, but he still didn't let the Ghost see his face.
"In general, relax well."
The Ghost nodded and rushed into the room, not forgetting to close the door behind him.
Behind him, a calm, fleeting smile flickered across Kariel Lohars's face.
He closed his eyes and exhaled slowly.
The air purifiers installed by the aristocrats worked non-stop. The thick, terribly strong smell of blood, left after the grand massacre, reluctantly, but still dissipated.
After all, they could not resist these machines, just as the aristocrats could not resist Kariel and the Ghost.
Whether they were ready or not... it no longer mattered.
"The goal has been achieved," Kariel thought.
"But... what next?"
He squinted and slowly walked along the mountain of corpses, trying to concentrate, but the sticky feeling under his feet bothered him.
Blood...
Kariel sighed silently, turned to the sofa in the center of the hall, and slowly approached it.
Carefully choosing a spot where there was less blood, he sat down.
The softness that enveloped his back and waist made him exhale with relief. It was nothing like sitting on a chair in the Sanctuary.
That broken chair required him to keep his back perfectly straight to avoid losing balance. Sitting on it was not relaxation, but rather torture.
No comparison to this soft and comfortable sofa.
"What luxury... even the sofa is like this."
Kariel lowered his head and, surrounded by the corpses of aristocrats, plunged into thought.
Bodies lay around: some with wide-open eyes, others with silent screams frozen on their faces. On some faces, a deathly feeling was frozen – a smile or excitement. On others, however, horror distorted their features beyond recognition.
Amidst this field of corpses, only Kariel remained calm. He sat calmly on the blood-soaked sofa.
Calmness bordering on horror.
In contrast to this quiet picture, chaos reigned in his mind.
He hadn't thought about what would happen next before. Initially, his plan to ignite the flame had no continuation.
Before meeting the Ghost, the ultimate goal of this plan was to sacrifice himself to blow up the entire Upper Hive.
Kariel, of course, understood that this was reckless and irresponsible, but he had to act.
Hundreds of years had passed, and on Nostramo, no one rebelled against the aristocrats anymore. No one even knew why to rebel – they had completely forgotten the meaning of resistance, knowing only how to obey submissively.
The workers of the underhive revered the aristocrats as gods, and their children saw joining a gang as a beautiful future.
If you don't want to turn into a consumptive ghost in a factory or mine like your parents, there is only one path left – to a gang.
Gangs, in turn, took an example from the aristocrats, constantly striving to take their place, break into the Upper Hive, and become part of the nobility.
"If you break into the Upper Hive, then you won't have to endure the stench and dirt anymore, right?"
During patrols, Kariel heard countless times how bandits described their imaginary future in this way.
Yes, they did evil.
But who made them that way? Who forced people to languish in dark and cramped corners? Who condemned them to a life of rags and hunger?
Kariel would kill them, and would not pity them, because they committed acts unworthy of being called human.
But there was one thing he would never do – he would not laugh at the illusory dreams of these bandits.
Every person wants to live with dignity, and their dream is the only way on Nostramo to make life better.
Ridiculous and cruel, absurd to the point of unbearableness.
And the most terrible thing was that before meeting the Ghost, only Kariel on all of Nostramo found this unbearable.
The Ghost was also dissatisfied, but, unlike Kariel, he only vaguely felt that it shouldn't be this way.
In the heart of this naive monster, intuition gently suggested: people should not live like they do on Nostramo.
And then Kariel had a second idea.
He decided to pave the way for the Ghost before his death by exterminating all the influential aristocrats of the Upper Hive.
Thus, after his death, the Ghost would be able to raise the banner of rebellion that he had planted and allow the flame to cleanse the darkness. He also intended to investigate the Ghost's genetic defect so that he could live a normal human life.
But now... he hadn't died.
And the Ghost turned out not to be an experiment of the aristocrats. He had a father, a name, and even brothers.
Kariel closed his eyes. He never thought that one day he would be tormented by the fact that he "failed to die."
But, whatever the case...
He opened his eyes.
"Living is definitely not bad..."
Two shadows flashed through the darkness. Behind them, the Upper Hive remained calm. Many aristocrats in their estates continued to enjoy a luxurious and debauched life.
They knew nothing about the events of this night, nor about what awaited them in the future.
Starting from Mantas Scryvok to an unnamed patrolman – in one night, in ten hours, powerful aristocrats were completely destroyed.
"Efficient," Kariel thought. "Very efficient."
Jumping off the spire, he ran down. Dark clouds still swirled menacingly overhead, but Kariel's mood was very different from when he arrived. The Ghost, as always, followed closely behind him.
"Kariel?"
"Mm?"
"What will we do tomorrow?"
"Tomorrow, you say..."
"Continue patrolling?"
"We'll think about tomorrow tomorrow," Kariel said softly. "And today... let's just get a good night's sleep, how about that?"
***
Read the story months before public release — early chapters are on my Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/Granulan