He stood in the darkness, and the scene unfolding before him made him a little uneasy. Not because of the impending slaughter, but because of what Kariel was feeling now.
"How many?"
Kariel's voice was insistent, he had never sounded so chilling. He no longer resembled Kariel Lohars at all, as if someone else was speaking.
Someone alien.
He grabbed a man in a blood-stained apron by the neck and lifted him off the ground. The unfortunate man's left arm was missing from the elbow, and blood dripped continuously from the wound.
Horror spread across the man's face.
His fear was no different from the fear of others. Ghost saw it on his face, but he couldn't see Kariel's face. He didn't know what he was feeling now.
Kariel stood with his back to him.
Covered in blood, he stood directly under the only light source in the basement of the butcher shop.
"…One hundred… twenty… three…" the man replied barely audibly.
"One hundred and twenty-three people? How much did you pay for them?"
"…"
"He can't answer you, Kariel," Ghost thought. "You're going to strangle him now."
The next moment, Kariel released his fingers, and the man collapsed on the floor.
"Not at all, sir, not at all!"
The almost strangled man, kneeling, spoke. His voice was hoarse, full of terror, but still couldn't compare to the voice of that miner named Hakan.
Ghost didn't want to remember his face, but since they left, it and this voice had been haunting him.
"So, it was an exchange," Kariel asked calmly. "You were supposed to send them half after the work was done, right?"
"Yes, yes, we've already sent it! Sir, which gang are you from? From 'Balil'? I swear by the Eternal Night, sir, take whatever you like! Just don't kill us, I beg you!"
Kariel chuckled.
He lifted the man and forcefully slammed his head against the only table in the basement. The table was iron, and its surface was covered with a strange dark red rust.
Kariel pinned him and broke his collarbone.
A piercing scream mixed with tears and snot. Ghost watched the scene silently. For half a second, he thought he glimpsed Kariel's true feelings.
Kariel was smiling, but the real Kariel, hidden behind the smile…
"He's furious," Ghost thought.
"I don't need anything," Kariel said. "Listen carefully and remember my words. I don't need anything, do you understand?"
"I understand! I understand!"
"Very well," Kariel said calmly and snapped the man's neck. He went limp at his feet and made no more sound.
"One hundred and twenty-three."
The voice echoed through the basement.
It passed by the iron table, the cutting knives, a dozen sticky buckets for offal, and some long objects wrapped in black bags and hung from the ceiling. Finally, it reached the darkness.
It reached Ghost's ears.
One hundred and twenty-three.
He listened silently, ready to hear what Kariel would say next.
"Forgive me," Kariel said. "I lost control. I'm very sorry, Ghost."
"Why do you keep apologizing?"
"Because I made a mistake."
"But…"
"Because I shouldn't have done it, Ghost."
Kariel didn't move from his spot. "I told you that there should be no personal emotions in work, and yet I was the first to break that rule."
He paused for a few seconds and continued, "I've been teaching you what's right and what's wrong all this time. And only now have I realized how arrogant that was. This is the second thing I must apologize for."
Ghost emerged from the shadows. He wanted to say something, but didn't know how to interrupt him.
He could only listen.
"And also… and also this," Kariel said dully. "I realized that I couldn't restrain the urge to do it. This is the third thing I apologize for."
"Of course, I must apologize to them too. Once, driven by so-called high morals, I embarked on a path of self-destruction. On this path, I forgot many things. These people deserved a better fate, and their deaths are on my conscience."
"Were you a miner before?" Ghost asked, his voice choked. "How long, Kariel?"
"Three years," Kariel replied calmly. "I hadn't started down that path yet. I wanted to see if I could ignite a flame, and so I went to them."
"But I didn't find soil on which it could ignite. They were numb, turned to ice. They only thought about melting or freezing even harder, but not about burning. And what sane person would try to set ice on fire?"
"So you knew them?"
"Yes. I spent three years in that mine, and after leaving, I returned from time to time. That's how I met you."
Kariel turned, and something complex reflected on his pale face, completely incomprehensible to Ghost.
"Don't be like me," he said quietly. "Don't chase after fire, forgetting what's in front of your eyes."
"I don't understand," Ghost said, confused. "I really don't understand, Kariel. Your countdown disappeared, you said the flame had already been lit, that the solution would gradually be found on its own… But why are you now…"
Why are you so sad now?
"Is it because I wanted a blade?"
He lowered his head, then raised it again and asked cautiously, "I won't take it, okay?"
Kariel looked at him calmly.
He didn't answer, didn't react, just looked. And then he said, "No, it's not about the blade."
He smiled, and Ghost, slowly widening his eyes, saw that the old, familiar Kariel had returned.
"Okay," he said with a smile. "Okay. Sigh, Ghost."
He sighed.
"Thank you," Kariel said sincerely. "Thank you."
…
The death of a butcher shop owner in Quintus is an insignificant event. In the Underhive, people die every day, so why shouldn't a butcher die?
Kariel knew that no one would care.
The Great Purge was approaching. Even if someone wanted to pay attention to it, at such a moment, they would try to forget everything.
He sighed and, as usual, sat on the edge of the Sanctuary, squeezing nutrient paste into his mouth. Ghost had gone on patrol, surprisingly zealous. He had always conscientiously performed this duty, but today he showed particular enthusiasm.
Kariel knew the reason. He had fragments of evidence that formed a picture: his own breakdown, Hakan's face, Ghost's expression when he said he didn't want the blade.
He would preserve this in his memory forever.
However, what concerned him more now was: what would be the reaction of the other aristocrats of the Upper Hive?
This was important. Everything that happened next depended on it.
Kariel ate the paste with a stony face and plunged into thought about something else.
That Prometheus said he would bring Ghost – or rather, the brothers of Konrad Curze – to Nostramo.
Kariel didn't know when they would arrive, but one thing was clear.
This Prometheus was unlikely to be an ordinary person.
Here's the proof.
First, his memory and what he showed Kariel in it.
Second, Ghost's strength.
A year-and-a-half-old infant capable of tearing apart an armored vehicle with one hand, moving with inhuman speed in the dark with ease, and possessing astonishing regeneration – any wound healed before his eyes.
This did not fit the definition of an "infant." If all prejudices were set aside, Kariel would choose the word "weapon" to describe Ghost.
And that Prometheus called himself Ghost's father.
What kind of father turns his own son into a weapon? And what kind of father is capable of creating such a weapon?
But that was the problem.
If Prometheus saw Ghost only as a weapon, why implant all this knowledge into his mind? And this innate sense of justice… all this raised many suspicions.
Besides, Prometheus…
The fire thief.
Kariel squinted, stopping his eating. His thoughts became slow and cautious. He realized that the reaction of those entities from beyond the Veil was not a lie.
"Interesting. The fire thief. The one feared by creatures from beyond the Veil. The one who can speak at a distance, resurrect, and even change me."
"Prometheus… the fire thief, a god who betrayed the gods."
"God…"
"However, it doesn't matter."
"Thinking about it is pointless, as it is completely unknown when he will appear."
"It's better to focus on pressing matters, Kariel. For example, finish your food, and then take a walk to the Upper Hive… and see how those workers who stopped to stare at the corpses of the aristocrats are doing."
"The flame must be preserved."
"And then, then…"
He sighed slowly.
"There is always some 'then'."
"I'm used to planning everything in advance, but plans never keep up with reality. You were going to relocate the miners to another part of the city, but instead, you rushed into the Upper Hive…"
"And now they are dead, Kariel Lohars."
"It's your responsibility."
"Admit it, you never liked strictly following plans. You were going to blow up the Upper Hive and die, but Ghost changed your decision. You lit the fire, but you have no idea how to fan it…"
Kariel chuckled bitterly and lowered his head.
"The knowledge from books turns out to be shallow in practice," he muttered.
"Plans never keep up with reality."
With this thought, he slowly got up, deciding to leave the remaining nutrient paste for later.
It wouldn't spoil anyway.
Five minutes later, he left the Sanctuary and headed for the Upper Hive.
Eight hours later, he would have an irresistible urge to tattoo the phrase "plans never keep up with reality" on himself. And he would never get to eat the remaining nutrient paste.
***
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