In pursuit of the artifact of Taiwanese novels, .
Karyel, covered in blood, returned to his Sanctuary. In the dark room, two people were already waiting for him.
The Ghost was squatting in the corner of the room, idly filing his nails. His black hair fell carelessly onto his forehead, his face was bloody, and pieces of flesh hung from his body.
Seeing this, Karyel realized that he had probably torn someone to shreds again.
As for the second person…
Karyel looked at her. The woman was unconscious. Her metallic right arm was gone, torn off at the shoulder. Judging by the ragged wound, the Ghost had most likely simply ripped her arm off.
"Is he dead?" the Ghost suddenly asked.
"Dead," Karyel replied. "By the way, could you go out for a moment, Ghost?"
"Why?"
"You stink too much, Ghost, that's why. I think we agreed that you would maintain personal hygiene."
The Ghost frowned: "You're covered in blood too."
"Don't get me wrong, Ghost."
Karyel, with a strained smile, took off his blood-soaked cloak, threw it out the door, and, grinning, pulled up his rickety chair and sat down.
"Any more questions?"
"..."
The Ghost said nothing more, turned, and left. His hearing allowed him to clearly hear everything happening in the room, even at a great distance, so his presence or absence didn't really matter.
However, he still didn't understand why Karyel insisted on him leaving. Perhaps, someday, he would understand.
The rickety door creaked shut. The smile on Karyel's face vanished in an instant. His muscles relaxed, and a calm settled on his pale face.
"It's time for you to wake up," Karyel said. "Pretending to be asleep is not the best choice."
The woman slowly opened her eyes. She was very calm, seemingly clearly aware of her situation.
Unfortunately, not entirely.
"So the avenging spirit has helpers..." the woman said slowly. "But you probably don't even know what your helper has done?"
"He killed some people who deserved it."
"He tore apart my machine in front of everyone, tore apart my bodyguards... And I, before being forced to leave, managed to tell those despicable bastards my name. Soon House Scryvok will know what happened here."
A predatory smile slowly appeared on the woman's face, full of undisguised malice. She described her abduction as "forced departure."
How amusing.
On Karyel's face, which had just become calm, a smile reappeared.
"Really? And to which house do you belong? To which Count?"
"You know a lot..." the woman sneered coldly. Karyel's words seemed to strengthen her in some thought.
Covered in blood, she sat pitifully on the dirty floor, but acted as if she were the one in charge.
At this, Karyel's smile widened. He remained silent, merely breathing slowly, as if plotting something.
And the woman took this omen of death for something else.
"If you don't want to be tortured for a decade, you'd better let me go... You can't escape, avenging spirit."
She glared at Karyel, sitting on the chair, with hatred, emphasizing his ridiculous nickname.
"I don't know who is behind you, I don't know who provided you with technical support and even gave you an iron golem with primitive intelligence..."
At this point, she screamed: "But House Scryvok will find you! And your only chance of survival is to let me go from this godforsaken dirty place!"
Karyel finally laughed quietly.
"Iron golem... Hahahaha... Hahahaha..."
His laughter echoed through the dark room.
"Do you really think he is one of those killing machines created by artisans..."
"And isn't he? Don't try to fool me!"
"You are very witty, my lady," Karyel said quietly. "But I can't stand wit."
He stood up and kicked the woman without hesitation. The force of the blow was perfectly calculated: to the stomach, so she would feel intense pain but not lose the ability to speak.
For aristocrats, this was a trifle.
They had an ingrained tradition: to throw their growing offspring into the Underhive to be hunted by gangs and commoners. Only survivors could claim a title in the lineage.
The woman spat blood. She got up with difficulty and with her remaining left hand furiously struck the floor: "For this, I will skin you! You insignificant bastard! Who do you think you are?!"
Karyel silently kicked her again. This time the blow was a little stronger. Enough to injure and humiliate her, but not enough to raise her adrenaline levels.
He needed her to feel fear, not to drown it in rage.
Karyel could control his strength precisely, so he achieved this easily. This was one of the many reasons he had survived on Nostramo so far.
The woman flew back and crashed into the spot where the Ghost usually liked to sit. Two ribs were broken, and several teeth flew out of her mouth.
After a painful groan, full of humiliated anger, she got up without hesitation and lunged at Karyel, muttering curses.
A pale hand shot out from the darkness, stopping her blind charge and grabbing her by the neck. Feeling this real, rough force, fear finally appeared on the woman's face.
She finally understood that this so-called avenging spirit, who had been killing with impunity in the Underhive for the last year and a half, was not what they had assumed.
He was not a private soldier sent by some aristocrat before the Great Purge, nor was he a pre-inserted agent...
He didn't care about the "rules of the game" that aristocrats knew and followed!
Grabbing her by the neck, Karyel dragged her out of the room. The Ghost, meanwhile, had already climbed onto the roof of the Sanctuary and, like a wild beast, squatted there, silently watching what was happening below.
And tonight on Nostramo... it was still raining.
The night was endless, but the neon lights, with which gangs marked their territories, pierced the gloom, creating bizarre shadows in the sky. Acidic, foul-smelling poisonous rain fell from the sky, and it seemed to be only intensifying.
Under the pouring rain, Karyel spoke slowly:
"I suppose you're racking your brain right now, trying to figure out who is supporting me, since I dare to do such a thing."
The woman desperately beat his right hand with her remaining left hand, trying to make him release his fingers. Lack of oxygen and her feet not touching the ground deprived her of the strength to fight.
"But there is no one behind me," Karyel said. "No aristocrat supports me, no house stands behind me. Incredible, isn't it?"
He released his hand with a smile. The woman fell to the ground pitifully, clutching her neck and gasping for air, interspersed with violent coughing. Karyel, without looking at her, spread his arms, enjoying the streams of rain.
Burning pain emanated from the exposed areas of his skin, but he didn't care.
He was used to it long ago.
He squatted down.
"Let me tell you something, my lady."
Karyel looked her in the eyes and said quietly:
"Not everything in this world obeys your rules."
"For hundreds, thousands of years, Nostramo has lived by your laws. The people of the Underhive lived like dogs, gnawing at each other in the darkness. Gangs divided territories, collecting taxes for you and oppressing the people."
"And you? You just sat in your palaces and enjoyed life, inventing new and new ways to please your depraved existence."
Karyel grinned, revealing white teeth in the damp air.
"And I don't like it at all... Honestly, I'm furious."
He raised his right hand, showing the woman a tattoo on his wrist. Her eyes widened sharply, and she immediately shouted a name:
"Loxars!"
"You guessed right..."
Karyel grinned, stood up, and made an elegant courtly bow, his voice becoming low.
"The last scion of House Loxars, Karyel Loxars, greets you, my lady."
The woman finally let out a frightened scream and, pushing off with her hands and feet, crawled backward, trying to escape. But Karyel, with a predatory smile, lunged at her.
Pieces of flesh flew.
...
"I thought you were going to interrogate her."
"Uh-huh."
"But it seems you didn't get anything out of her."
"Oh, really?"
"You didn't let me kill her, but you killed her yourself."
"...Can you give me a moment of silence, Ghost?"
Karyel turned irritably and looked at the Ghost sitting in the darkness: "I'm planning what to do next!"
"Oh."
Silence.
Karyel closed his eyes, but in the end, he couldn't stand it and winced. He turned again and asked:
"You're probably wondering what that woman was talking about?"
"She called your surname and seemed to be scared to death," the Ghost nodded. "Why? Did she know you?"
"No, she didn't know me, but she knew the tattoo."
Saying this, Karyel raised his right hand and showed the tattoo to the Ghost.
"A bloody knife?" the Ghost asked in bewilderment. "What could this drawing mean?"
"It means a house," Karyel said with a sarcastic grin. "A house that specialized in executions. Their methods were so cruel that even those aristocrats who loved torture and torment couldn't bear them. That's why she was scared."
"The previous and last Count of this house bore the name Guy Loxars, also known as 'The Count-Executioner.' He was a cruel executioner devoid of all morality and humanity, who adored murder."
"As for House Loxars... its founder was a very lucky bastard. Five hundred and thirty-one years ago, he rose from the lowest depths. In the aristocrats' game called the 'Great Purge,' he transformed from a dirty gang dog into one of the oppressors."
"So you're an aristocrat too?" the Ghost asked.
"No," Karyel shook his head. "Don't compare me to them, Ghost."
"House Loxars broke the rules of the game during the Great Purge twenty years ago. Guy Loxars tried to kill one of the lords and seize his possessions. His actions were revealed by a traitor from his own family, and the entire house was sentenced to the highest penalty."
"They all died?"
"Yes, they all died."
"But..."
"But?"
"But you didn't die."
"Yes," Karyel smiled weakly. "I was the traitor, so I didn't die."
Having received the explanation, the Ghost not only did not relax his frowning brows but, on the contrary, furrowed them even more: "But your age doesn't match... Twenty years ago, you were still a child, how could you have reported it?"
"A child born in sin. A child who came into the world from the blood of victims and was nurtured by their flesh," Karyel corrected him gently. "The traitor was someone else, and I..."
He shook his head.
"I betrayed that entire damned class of aristocrats," he said. "Believe it or not, that's up to you, Ghost. As for the truth... ha."
He chuckled quietly: "The truth has long since scattered to the wind."
***
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