Flames reflected in its golden surface, and the light it emitted seemed intoxicating, even romantic, in this shimmer.
Without a doubt, such a chandelier would be perfect for a ballroom.
It would create an atmosphere conducive to languid touches and bold steps, and under its radiance, each guest's imagination would paint captivating images.
They would look into their partners' eyes, their hands resting where the heat and softness of flesh could be felt, and their breathing would become short and ragged.
But, unfortunately, Kariel was not going to dance with anyone present.
And he didn't come here for a ball. Rather, he came to destroy this ball.
One step forward, one swing of the blade – and a head flies off.
A turn, a kick – a shattered jaw, and the body soars into the air.
Grab by the leg, plunge the knife into the heart, throw to the other end of the hall, where a woman, gathering her skirts, flees in panic and falls to the floor with a scream.
"Quietly," Kariel said softly. "The music is still playing, your screams are interfering with listening to it."
The woman, consumed by terror, did not hear his words. But he was right.
Music was indeed playing in this ballroom.
Gentle and smooth, with notes of a coquettish smirk, a female voice hummed the melody wordlessly, making the night even more seductive. Dancing to such a song would probably be a great fortune.
"Hmm-m…"
Kariel exhaled softly and ran a hand over his face.
The incessant slaughter had left behind a sea of blood. His clothes were soaked through with it, even his hair had clumped together, which was quite annoying.
He flexed his wrist and slowly headed towards the fallen aristocrat.
At the same time, Kariel was ridiculously picky. He carefully chose where to step, stepping over corpses and scraps of flesh, preferring to walk slowly through puddles of blood rather than touch them.
Although this did not save his boots from blood, at least he did not have to feel dead bodies again.
"No, no, spare me…"
The woman on the floor sobbed, begging for mercy, completely forgetting her aristocratic dignity. Kariel couldn't help but smile. He had seen enough of this during the night.
At first, each aristocrat was bewildered at the sight of him.
Then, when he drew his blades and began to kill, they either promised him gold or threatened him with power.
Realizing that neither money nor power could stop the blades, they broke down into tears.
Some tried to resist, others to flee, and still others to reveal so-called "family secrets" in exchange for their lives.
"How amusing," Kariel thought.
Although he had warned them, few took it seriously. The aristocrats seemed to consider it a bad joke.
Well, it wasn't a joke. Kariel didn't like to joke.
The fallen woman, of course, did not know what he was thinking. Now she wanted only one thing – to be far away from this monster who had suddenly appeared and killed everyone.
She crawled through a pool of blood. The clean hem of her dress and velvet gloves were soaked with blood. Around her – the corpses of her companions.
Once, the smell of blood was familiar to her, but now it drove her mad. She, who had personally killed many, now trembled with fear.
"M-yes," Kariel nodded helplessly. "Honestly, if you want to run, at least get up, lady."
He approached and, ignoring her resistance, lifted her from the pile of bodies. The woman struggled in panic, and then he grabbed her by the shoulders, squeezed slightly, and the pain quelled her madness.
The ghost didn't care.
He simply breathed calmly, his face covered in blood, and his dark eyes held nothing but tranquility.
After a while, the woman stopped struggling and screaming. She sobbed fearfully, her sobs becoming intermittent.
Looking at this face, distorted by terror, which once considered itself noble, the ghost suddenly laughed.
"It's always the same. Pleas, requests for mercy."
He spoke to himself.
"Promises of money, status, everything you are used to trading. Within the rules of profit, you can bribe and subjugate anyone, but I do not belong to these rules."
"Honestly, lady, if you constantly knock on hell's door, then sooner or later the devil will come for you."
Having said this, he, ignoring the woman's pleas and resistance, raised his left hand and grabbed her by the neck. Then he squeezed sharply, and the crying and pleas stopped.
Many things had to end tonight.
Dropping the body, the ghost shook his head wearily. He walked to the open doors of the ballroom and slowly went out.
The majestic corridor was flooded with blood and littered with corpses. He killed the guards one by one, and they died without understanding anything. And this time, Kariel didn't even look for a detour – he entered through the main entrance.
The blood-soaked clothes pulled him down, the sticky weight causing an unpleasant tingling on his skin. It was like a reminder not to forget what he had done tonight.
He, of course, would not forget. However, whether he remembered or not, it no longer mattered. A little more, and all this would disappear.
That call was getting closer, clearer.
Kariel could not see what was hidden behind the veil, but he felt it. His mind forced him to reject these voices again and again.
He knew they came from the darkness, belonged to the darkness…
Or rather, they were darkness itself.
Probably, they had been hungrily waiting for humanity since ancient times. The one who called him was undoubtedly one of them.
Therefore, he would not allow himself to become their puppet, would not allow himself to be tempted. He would eliminate any possibility.
But this power was terrifying.
Having accepted it only four hours ago, Kariel had already reached a completely new level.
His once thin body had become strong; bullets that he had to dodge before now turned to dust at a single glance.
Dangerous robot sentries had turned from formidable enemies into piles of scrap metal. He only had to think, and they stopped noticing him, and then turned their weapons against each other.
"What kind of power is this…"
The ghost sighed with emotion and walked out of this fortress.
The cold wind that met him sobered him up a little, unnecessary thoughts were again cast aside. Kariel bent his knees slightly and jumped. In the clean, almost fragrant air of the Upper Hive, he rushed towards his next target.
"He didn't need to kill all the aristocrats; he wouldn't have had time in one night."
But he could ignite the flame, he could destroy the families one by one, who had concentrated most of the power and strength in their hands, and after that, the Ghost would finish what he had started.
While the remaining aristocrats were tearing each other apart, the Ghost would turn them into ashes in the wind.
"Only…"
"Is this really what you want, Ghost? Or are these just my obsessions? And then, your origin…"
"Yes. Where did you come from at all?"
Kariel gave a bitter smile. Anger at himself began to flare up in his heart.
He took a deep breath, suppressed it again, and ran on.
At the very beginning of this night's massacre, he had compiled a list of families to be destroyed.
And now the tower he was rapidly approaching belonged to a family… that was not on this list.
…
The shooting did not stop.
Automatic rifles, shotguns, laser rifles… homemade crafts assembled by hand, elite weapons from other hives, serial models from factories…
It didn't matter where they were from, now they all roared.
It didn't matter where they were from, now they were all held by people full of terror, pouring out their emotions.
And did that help?
"The answer, of course, was negative."
From the other end of the narrow corridor, the Ghost was rushing. Like a predatory beast, he extended his claws, and just two crosswise swings turned the shooters into a pile of bodies.
No one could stop him. Even at the cost of their lives, they could not make him stop.
The Ghost jumped out of the window and, with a few leaps, found himself on the other side of the square. Neon lights could not illuminate him, bandits could not catch his shadow.
They knew only one thing: the shooting did not stop, screams were heard, and a thick smell of blood hung in the fetid air.
If they hadn't seen it with their own eyes, no one would have believed in the existence of the Ghost. But to see him meant that death was already close.
After six minutes, the Ghost, grabbing the last bandit, threw him from a tall building. His scream faded in the cold wind, and a dull thud on the ground marked the end of his life.
"…"
The Ghost wiped the blood from his hands and, pursing his lips, sat on the edge of the building.
Kariel had left, he understood this perfectly.
But where?
The Ghost had no answer, only felt annoyance. He had completed the task, and Kariel had not appeared.
So, wait?
Return to the Sanctuary?
In a few hours, he might return.
Would he return?
The Ghost raised his head in confusion and looked at the dim, starless sky. Broken neon lamps could not illuminate this deep darkness. Looking at the heavy clouds, he suddenly felt a heaviness creep into his heart.
"For just a moment he lost vigilance, and that icy feeling returned."
The Ghost didn't even have time to get angry at himself when his eyes widened, and he sank
He fell into a storm of visions.
Disordered, rapidly changing images layered upon each other, flashing by in indescribable chaos.
He saw fire, fire that consumed an entire planet. Crimson, like blood. Three stars appeared in the sky from the darkness, flickering ominously. A familiar voice from beyond the stars sighed painfully, as if in sorrow. A golden light flashed and died.
"I'm so sorry, Ghost…"
The voice sounded on the wind and vanished.
"Kariél?"
"No, no, don't!"
Ghost gritted his teeth until they creaked.
His will unleashed immense power in this still-growing superhuman body. Another future rapidly approached, the fire remained, but its color changed. A blinding golden light burned his eyes and struck like lightning.
Ghost sharply threw himself back and convulsed on the cold rooftop. It took several minutes before he regained consciousness.
He got up with difficulty. The cramps and muscle spasms slowly subsided. In a few more tens of seconds, he would regain his strength, but he couldn't wait any longer.
Ghost, limping, walked to the edge of the building, clenched his fists, and jumped down.
The cold wind still blew, but he already knew what he had to do.
***
Read the story months before public release — early chapters are on my Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/Granulan