It flowed into the scentless air and finally entered his "trap-net," revealing everything that was needed. Thus, he learned that a man was bleeding four hundred and fifty meters away from him.
Trap-net.
He had opened it within himself that night and begun to use it.
After returning from beyond the Veil, his body grew stronger with each passing day. But it wasn't just brute strength and agility that changed, but something more subtle.
For example, his senses.
Each of them individually was already incredibly sharp, but now, intertwined, they formed a giant net capable of ensnaring any prey. Hence the slightly strange name – "trap-net."
He turned around. Soft light sources still silently performed their duty on the streets of the Upper Hive.
They had been here for a long time, but they were still in excellent condition. Not only because they were made of durable materials, but also because they were constantly maintained.
"Slaves," Kariel thought.
A chilling cold spread in his mouth.
Previously, this work required his attention to detail. He monitored every corner, every detail, every movement.
He avoided reveling in killing, turning it into a task that required efficiency. Only in this way could he show the Night Ghost the true meaning of slaughter.
Slaughter was never an end in itself.
Kariel took a deep breath again, and the "trap-net" activated once more.
Then he ran.
The huge body, over four meters tall, rushed through the darkness of the Upper Hive like a ghost, close to the ground. His steps were swift, but not a single tile shifted, only a barely audible sound broke the silence.
His bones and muscles generated even greater strength in this movement, and the strength itself urged them to further evolution.
"What am I now?"
The thought flashed, and Kariel squinted, allowing it to sink into the deepest recesses of his consciousness.
With one leap, he reached the top of the spire.
Two air purifiers were working silently at the top. They must have been installed recently, otherwise, how to explain their brand-new metallic surface.
Kariel passed them by, looked down, and his gaze precisely targeted the man running in panic.
He had seen this scene for the second time.
Last time, this man had been just as frantic in the eternal night of Nostramo. And now, apart from running a little faster, nothing had changed.
At this thought, Kariel smirked.
"Can it be considered that I am prompting them to break out of their rotten lives and start exercising?"
He whispered to himself. The hissing sounds dissolved into the cold air, gradually disappearing without a trace.
Under the noise of the air purifiers, he silently jumped from the top of the spire. Without bending his knees, without crouching, he landed like a swift shadow in front of the man, reached out his hand, and dragged him into the darkness.
A scream of panic erupted.
Then pleas – fragments of incoherent phrases mixed with the sounds of a completely collapsed mind. Kariel patiently watched him, not intending to torture him. There was no point.
He had already lost control twice.
There would be no third time.
Besides, if he wanted to know something, the man would have spoken himself. He would have even told him in great detail how many people he had eaten.
"Sh-sh-sh."
"No need to struggle," Kariel said softly. "You knew I was coming for you, didn't you?"
"You're just a legend…"
The man sobbed, completely broken.
"You shouldn't exist! You're just a monster made up by the commoners from the lower levels!"
Kariel laughed.
"I wiped your lineage off the face of the earth tonight, and you still think I'm a monster from legends?"
He gently released his hand, letting the man fall. He collapsed to the ground with weakened legs, having lost the strength to even flee. He was consumed by terror.
"Well…"
Looking at him, Kariel sighed. He crouched down and gripped the neck of this broken man.
The conversation was over.
With a short crack, his work for the day was completed. But Kariel did not leave the body on the dark street. He picked it up and jumped back onto the spire, flying from roof to roof, from spire to spire.
Nostramo's architectural style was not just grim; religious motifs were evident everywhere. Whoever started this style, in Quintus's Upper Hive, churches were on every corner.
"Of course, they didn't believe in one god."
After eight minutes, he stopped on the roof of a cathedral.
It was the largest cathedral in Quintus's Upper Hive. It was strikingly different from the buildings of the Underhive, corroded by acid rain: majestic, tall, even the side facade was exquisitely decorated and obviously often restored.
All the aristocrats of Quintus, great and small, gathered in this cathedral on a certain day of the month for prayer. Of course, the prayers of the aristocrats were different from ordinary ones.
It was not so much a prayer as a court ball with the exchange of favors and the conclusion of deals.
Under the gaze of faceless statues, noble ladies and gentlemen, naked, in the embrace of blood, chose their sacrificial lambs.
And then…
Kariel squinted, cutting off his thought. He didn't want to think about it anymore. He lowered his head and began to peer into the night.
Fifteen marble statues stood evenly on the tier below him. A suffering woman in a thin veil, entwined with thorns, raised her hands with a crying infant. Her face was shrouded in mist, and drops of condensation trickled down her marble skin.
Kariel looked at them and shook his head.
Natural childbirth on Nostramo had become a rarity.
After a short observation, he jumped from the roof of the cathedral and, on the platform at the top of a long, hundreds of steps, staircase, began to dismember the corpse.
It was neither blasphemy, nor venting of anger, nor a way to pass the time. It was part of his work.
Kariel approached it with utmost clarity. He did it without malice or excitement, simply because he needed to expand the zone of fear.
For the aristocrats, verbal warnings were far less convincing than direct action.
He extended a finger and, like the Ghost, ripped open the soft skin with his nail. Blood gushed out.
Kariel frowned, feeling a deep disgust at the touch of flesh and blood.
Now he remembered with particular longing the times when he could hold a knife in his hands.
But there was no going back to the past for him.
He could no longer be just "Kariel Lohars," a vengeful spirit acting under the cover of night.
The power granted by that union made Kariel realize that he, like the Emperor, needed a mask. And this giant body was perfect for it.
Konrad Curze had many brothers he had not yet met. And if Konrad was to meet each of them, Kariel was sure – he would not escape this.
For a long time to come, he would have to accompany Konrad Curze.
Therefore, this appearance solved many problems – at least, it saved him from unnecessary incidents like the one with "Lorgar Aurelian."
Three minutes later, he finished his work, stood up with bloody hands, and left the cathedral with a few leaps.
Now, all that remained was to wait.
…
Returning to the Sanctuary for the third time that day, Kariel was surprised to find that he had already almost gotten used to the Ghost's absence.
He gave a complex smile and sighed with regret.
"Is this some kind of flash mob you've got going on?"
Kariel addressed the darkness behind the Sanctuary.
"You come one by one, and you even choose the same waiting spot."
Hearing this, Ferrus Manus stepped to the left impassively.
He knew who the previous visitor had been.
"You continue."
"Does this bloody life attract you so much?" Ferrus said with confidence in his voice.
"Of course not."
Kariel shook his head and, before Ferrus's eyes, opened a new door to the Sanctuary – it now possessed a terrifying weight.
Rogal Dorn had ripped off the entire casing of an old water purifier and reinforced the door with it. The cracks were sealed, the flimsy structure repaired.
Now it was a very reliable door.
Kariel entered and brought out a chair. Like the door, it had also transformed: from a dilapidated wooden chair picked up from a junkyard, it had turned into a huge armchair.
Twisted metal and wood intertwined in its four legs.
Their lengths were absolutely identical, to the last millimeter. A concave metal sheet became the seat, the backrest – strong and reliable, and several gears extracted from the water purifier gleamed on the armrests made of metal strips.
"Dorn's hand," Ferrus said dully. "His craftsmanship is still as high as ever."
"I don't know what his previous works were like, but judging by these two priceless works of craftsmanship, he is undoubtedly a skilled master. By the way, if you don't mind, I'd like to talk with you while sitting."
Kariel smiled slightly, moved the chair closer, but was in no hurry to sit down.
"I don't mind," Ferrus Manus replied calmly. "A person deserves rest after work."
Kariel raised an eyebrow in surprise. He sat down and asked,
"Do you call what I do work?"
"At least, judging by your attitude, it's no different from work. And from my personal point of view, eliminating these scum who oppress others is simply work."
Finally, an emotion flickered across Ferrus Manus's face. Disgust appeared on his stern face, and his eyebrows drew together in the middle of his forehead.
"I absolutely cannot stand it," he said coldly. "Most here deserve death."
"Yes," Kariel replied, leaning back in his chair. "That's right."
The brief flash of emotion passed, and Ferrus Manus sank back into his usual silence. Only after half a minute did he speak again:
"Konrad Curze's lesson today was very successful."
Kariel laughed.
"Did you come only to tell me this?"
"No, there's something else. The 'Emperor Sovnium' doesn't just have Adeptus Custodes and Auxilia. We brought small detachments of warriors from our Legions with us."
Ferrus slowly cast a stern glance at him.
"Therefore, Kariel Lohars, if you need it, my Legion, the Iron Hands, will descend from orbit to help you establish a new order."
"I'm already doing that, Ferrus Manus."
"But not very effectively."
Kariel sighed. He understood what this giant meant.
To offer help and support, to establish a new order with military force many times superior to the personal armies of all Nostramo's aristocrats.
This, of course, was good, and the efficiency would be hundreds of times higher, but it was not what he wanted, nor what the Night Ghost or Konrad Curze wanted.
"Efficiency doesn't always decide everything. I also hate low productivity, but some things need to be done slowly, Ferrus Manus…"
"The Eighth Legion will arrive soon," Ferrus said impassively. "So, if you can't completely change this planet in two weeks, the arrival of a new order is only a matter of time."
He paused and shook his head.
"I heard from Konrad Curze about your desire to ignite a 'flame,' to awaken the people here from their long darkness. It's noble, but I don't think you'll succeed."
"Is that so?"
"Yes," said Ferrus Manus.
The giant frowned again, but this time in a different way.
"These people are numb. Before coming here, I was in the slums. The living conditions of the workers there are worse than those of some beasts. And they just endure, never resisting."
"Then I realized that they have probably completely forgotten what it means to resist. And even their children are like that."
"No one thinks that joining gangs, killing, and eating people is bad. Even their parents teach them to pass the gang selection… This world is completely rotten, Kariel Lohars. Therefore, I admire your desire to save it, but I strongly disagree with it."
"You are right," Kariel said calmly.
Surprise flickered across Ferrus's face.
"What?" Kariel shook his head with a smile. "Did you think I would argue?"
"…Yes."
"I will not dispute the truth. You are right in everything, Ferrus Manus. Nostramo truly does not deserve salvation… But I never measure actions by the criterion of 'worthy/unworthy'."
Kariel tilted his head back, exposing his face to the icy wind. He no longer felt the cold, but, as before, he squinted.
"Worthy or not – that is cold calculation and weighing, Ferrus Manus."
"It is an instinct developed by humanity through evolution. Besides unconditional parental love, even between brothers and lovers, there is room for this. Therefore, I never guide myself by it in my thoughts; I exclude it."
"Yes, Nostramo does not deserve salvation; it should be burned. Execute everyone and repopulate the planet with new people…"
"But…"
Kariel laughed.
"Is it worth it?" he asked with a smile.
Ferrus Manus found himself speechless for the first time.
Silently, he turned.
"Well, good luck to you," he said. "I admire your determination."
'It's not my determination, Ferrus Manus.'
Kariel closed his eyes.
'It's not my determination.'
***
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