Dance in the Rainy Night (Part 2 - Extended Version, Complete)

It was raining.

This fact forced Kael to pull up his cloak's hood. While he didn't particularly mind the stinging sensation of the acid rain, his eyes certainly would. And if his eyes minded, then he had to mind as well.

As his fingers brushed against the surface of the cloak, he felt a texture that had become vastly different from before.

This made him realize that the cloak he had scavenged was nearing the end of its lifespan.

With this thought, Kael stood up and glanced back toward the direction of the Old City. Within his line of sight, everything remained as usual. Furthermore, he hadn't heard any massive explosions or shrill, chaotic screams.

This meant that Wraith had either successfully completed the job or was still in the process of doing so.

Regardless of which, and whether or not he had been exposed, Kael hoped he wouldn't get hurt.

Wraith's regenerative abilities had left a deep impression on him, as had his strength, agility, and speed of growth.

However, Kael still believed that there was no such thing as a free lunch in this world.

You cannot possess such immense power without paying a price.

Great strength leads to a bloated physique and stacked muscle; pursuing agility requires shedding the constraints of fat and muscle. Superior explosive power makes you crave more energy intake every day, and if you want to fly...

Look at birds. This species, which does not exist on Nostramo, evolved hollow bones just to occupy the sky.

And Wraith.

He possessed the most terrifying healing speed Kael had ever seen. In fact, it could hardly be called self-healing anymore; it was more like flesh spontaneously knitting itself back together after an injury, yearning to return to perfection.

They were instinctively rejecting fragmentation.

So, what price must a creature like Wraith, who was clearly born in a laboratory, pay for such power?

Kael had no answer, but he knew that, no matter what, Wraith could not die before him.

He narrowed his eyes, his thoughts interrupted by the roar of an engine coming from the other end of the clock tower. The sound was faint, but Kael caught it nonetheless.

He turned his head to look at the bright highway. A massive black sedan was charging in from the distance; its exterior lacked any so-called "streamlined" design. The car's shape was incredibly rugged, and all its windows were pitch black.

An armored car?

What a familiar sense of déjà vu.

Kael lightly stood on his tiptoes, and after three quick hops in place, he leaped, leaving the clock tower behind. He then began to sprint across the rooftops of the pitch-black Old City.

His eyes remained fixed on the highway. The blinding incandescent lights appeared somewhat hazy in the thickening curtain of rain, and the distant sentry posts had become mere specks; only that car remained clear.

The acid rain made the air humid and foul-smelling, yet he ignored it entirely.

Raindrops struck his cloak and hood, creating a continuous percussion that hindered his hearing. It was crisp and gradually accelerating, much like his own heartbeat.

Then he bent his knees and jumped, the power he shouldn't have possessed erupting within his body at that moment. Blue light bloomed in his eyes, his muscles swelled, and the bricks beneath his feet shattered, dissolving into powder and dust amidst the acid rain.

By his own power alone—Kael Lohars—he briefly ascended into the high air.

I might be the high jump and long jump champion of Nostramo, if this Star of Eternal Night ever held a sports meet.

In the darkness, Kael slowly revealed a smile.

He didn't like humor, and he hated telling jokes. But he would smile, even if only out of politeness.

"How long has it been since we last came to Quintus?"

Jando Skraivok asked this, using a tone of inquiry, yet his gaze was not on the two people sitting across from him at all.

In fact, he was sitting in his luxurious leather chair, enjoying a glass of red wine taken from the car's storage cabinet.

Whenever and wherever, most Nostramo nobles would always put enjoyment first.

"We have never been to Quintus."

Lena Skraivok replied coldly. "If your big head hasn't rotted yet, Jando, you shouldn't be asking such a stupid question."

"Ha."

Hearing this, Jando chuckled. "Your definition of stupidity remains as shallow as ever, my sister. Your words sound more like a self-righteous fool muttering to themselves. Who do you think I meant when I said 'we'?"

Lena Skraivok narrowed her eyes, and the terrifying scar that crossed her entire cheek began to squirm as if it had come to life.

"Sooner or later, I will skin you alive for your insolence, Jando," she said gloomily.

"Suit yourself—but I think we both know that among Father's three remaining heirs, you are the least likely to obtain the Black Mark."

Lena's complexion turned ashen at these words.

To this, Jando laughed wantonly.

He tilted his slender neck and drained the wine in his glass. The liquid, redder than blood, slid past his lips and vanished into his mouth; the flavor exploding on his taste buds made him sigh with satisfaction.

Then, he cast his gaze toward Irene Skraivok.

His eldest sister.

"Respected sister, do you have an answer to my question?"

Irene withdrew her gaze from the pitch-black window. The distance between her and Jando was a full five meters, a testament to the sheer scale of this vehicle. Yet, that distance did nothing to soften her stare.

In fact, the look in her eyes caused the smile on Jando's face to slowly fade, his right hand inching toward the side of his seat.

"If I were you, I wouldn't choose to open fire inside the vehicle, Jando."

Irene said, her expression unreadable.

"Father had his reasons for lending us the Iron Pride. First, it serves as a symbol of the Skolevok Family's glory. Second, it is reinforced against a wide array of weaponry. That includes bullets fired from within."

"Then I still have my blade," Jando said, his composure unshaken.

"You are welcome to try," Irene Skolevok replied calmly. "But I cannot guarantee that the hand you use to wield it will remain intact."

Jando narrowed his eyes. One second passed, then two. Suddenly, he relaxed into a smile, brought his right hand back up, and offered an apology.

"I offer you my apologies, dear sister. At the same time, I sincerely hope you might answer a small question for your foolish younger brother."

"Twenty years ago."

Irene turned her head to look at the nightscape beyond the dark glass and answered quietly. "Twenty years ago, we were here."

"Twenty years ago." Jando nodded thoughtfully. "That famous Great Purge, was it?"

"Yes."

"That is truly interesting."

Jando smiled again. "Seventy percent of the population of Quintus vanished during that purge. I still remember how I felt when I read the records in the family library. I truly hate that I wasn't there."

"Do you think you would have survived?"

Lena Skolevok scoffed, her face full of disdain. She never missed an opportunity to strike at Jando Skolevok.

"Six families were permanently erased during that purge, and the Lohars were one of them. You don't actually think you could best any of the Lohars in the art of the blade, do you?"

"No, Lena. I never thought that. In fact, if I could have been there, even if it meant death, I would have been content."

This time, Jando did not mock her back. Instead, he shook his head quite calmly.

He tilted his head back to look at the sunroof. Lena stared at him, unable to fathom what this arrogant, damned blood relative was planning.

Then, she saw it: Jando's expression was becoming increasingly melancholic.

Abruptly, Lena felt a chill. This was not the first time she had found Jando's behavior incomprehensible.

"You really belong with the Tremor-Tooth or the Silver-Winged Corpse. Jando, you aren't fit to walk among us." Lena said with disgust.

"Perhaps."

Jando Skolevok looked at her and nodded noncommittally. "I shall allow your ignorance, Lena."

"You—" Lena sprang from her seat and lunged at Jando. At that very moment, Irene turned her head.

Within her line of sight, a triumphant smile was slowly blooming on Jando's lips, while Lena's fury was plain to see.

Yet, for some reason, in this tense scenario that had played out many times before, Irene Skolevok felt a sudden, inexplicable panic.

The next second, she received an answer she did not want.

"BOOM—!"

With a deafening roar, the Skolevok Family's Iron Pride was forced to a halt by some unknown power. At this moment, they were still a full eight thousand meters from the first outpost of the Glory Warlords.

Its heavy wheels continued to spin, grinding black marks into the road that workers had spent their lives repairing. But it was impossible for it to move even another meter forward.

Irene Skolevok could attest to that. On her left wrist, something was humming with a low, urgent sound.

It was the engine failure warning.

Inside the cabin, everyone was thrown into disarray. Jando and Lena tumbled together, but neither was in a hurry to fight. Instead, they both looked toward their eldest sister, who remained seated upright in her leather chair, her seatbelt still fastened.

Irene ignored them. She moved with soft, swift precision to unbuckle her belt and pressed a button on the right armrest. The heavy metal door connecting the passenger cabin to the front cabin slid open.

Behind the door stood forty private soldiers in pitch-black armor, weapons in hand.

Irene stood up and locked eyes with their leader.

With a slight nod, the soldiers unbuckled their waist restraints. The doors on both sides of the front cabin opened automatically, and they immediately stepped out.

Then, the heavy doors closed once more, as did the connection between the passenger and front cabins.

The entire process was quiet, swift, and lethal.

Seeing this, Jando couldn't help but whistle, narrowing his eyes as he said, "Father didn't tell me the Iron Pride was this large. It can actually hold this many people?"

"Some things require the proper clearance to know. For instance, the fact that it doesn't even require a driver."

Irene looked at her brother, her gaze cold. "Enough talk. Get ready, Jando. And you, Lena."

As she spoke, she rolled up her left sleeve. On her pale wrist was a small silver bracelet. Irene pressed it a few times, and the four seats in the passenger cabin folded away automatically, revealing the weapons beneath.

Jando whistled again, this time with genuine surprise.

"So many automatic rifles? And all high-end Prime gear?"

Lena snorted, pushed him aside to stand up, and approached the seats. As she selected a weapon, she said coldly: "Shut up, Jando, and start—"

"—Target acquired. Open fire!"

A sharp shout from outside the vehicle cut Lena's words short, followed immediately by a dense, roaring volley of gunfire.

Thirty autoguns, hand-crafted by the artisans of Prime Hive City, erupted with a sound that nearly shattered human eardrums. Both Jando and Lena frowned, but Irene remained unmoved.

Yet, only she knew how rapidly her heart was hammering against her ribs.

What is happening? Why do I feel such sudden, overwhelming dread?

"Cease fire, cease fire!" the commander of the private guards shouted. "Fireteam, stay alert! Everyone else, reload! Find him!"

"Him?"

Jando raised an eyebrow, forcing a joke. "Our attacker is only one person? I thought a rocket had struck the Iron Pride."

"Shut your mouth, Jando," Irene said softly. "Pick up your gun."

"Why, elder sister?"

"Pick up the gun and stay quiet."

As she spoke, Irene looked up toward the ceiling of the passenger carriage.

Though Jando had asked for an explanation, his body moved faster than his tongue, snatching up an autogun.

He stood shoulder-to-shoulder with Lena, both of them following Irene's gaze to the ceiling. They didn't know why she was doing this, but they wanted the answer.

Then, they knew.

Perched atop the skylight, a pitch-black figure stared coldly down at the three of them.

Jando jerked his gun up—but in the next second, the figure vanished into thin air.

Inside the carriage, no one spoke; a heavy silence began to spread. Acid rain fell onto the skylight, hammering relentlessly against glass reinforced to withstand high-caliber fire at point-blank range. The droplets shattered, yet they came again and again, unyielding and relentless.

Irene raised a hand, cold sweat trickling down her forehead.

She pressed her wrist-comm and held it to her lips, whispering, "Watch the perimeter and the roof, Helmut. Is there only one attacker?"

"Honorable Irene Skolevok, we see only one shadow."

"Maintain vigilance. I will contact the Glory Warlords to expedite their reinforcements," Irene said, pressing a crimson button on the armrest of her seat.

The Skolevok Family never lacked for emergency measures.

"Understood, Honorable Irene Skolevok!"

Outside, Helmut's voice rang out again. He roared through the miserable curtain of rain and the rising gale: "You heard her! Stay alert, stay guard—"

"—Bang!"

The carriage jolted violently.

"Fire! Fire!"

"He's got Commander Helmut!"

Jando's cheek twitched. Amidst this sudden, bizarre chaos, he broke into a cold sweat and muttered a curse under his breath.

"The Skolevok Family will grind you to dust, attacker! It doesn't matter who is backing you!"

Commander Helmut's voice crackled through Irene's comms, thick with palpable hatred and rage. The attacker, however, said nothing, letting Helmut continue his threats and curses while maintaining a chilling, eerie silence.

Irene took a deep breath, intending to negotiate, to use Helmut's life to probe the attacker for information. Yet, her plan failed before it could even begin.

Following a sudden, sharp scream from Helmut, the sound of flesh being torn began to echo through the passenger carriage, continuous and unending.

Above the heads of everyone from the Skolevok Family, a miserable wail circled through the midnight ring road.

"Damn it," Jando's cheek twitched again. "What is going on, elder sister?"

Irene did not answer. The next minute was a grueling, agonizing ordeal for them all.

Time crawled by, yet no one spoke. Jando and Lena could hear the faint breathing of the private guards outside and the sound of rain hitting the roof, but Irene remained silent, staring blankly at her wrist-comm.

Then—

A melody began to play from the other end of the comms.

Low, long, and dripping with obvious melancholy. The tune was soft, yet it felt like a blade dragging across the tender skin of a throat.

"My lord," Irene spoke slowly. "No matter how much the other families are paying you, the Skolevoks can pay you ten times that."

The singing continued.

"In Nostramo, we are the wealthiest. Our connections span all five hive cities. It is not too late for you to stop."

The singing stopped.

But there was no reply from the other side of the channel; only a low, deep chuckle. The rain hissed, the wind whistled, and as he laughed, his voice gradually faded into the distance.

Stiff all over, Lena asked after a brief silence, "Is... is he gone?"

"Bang!"

A heavy thud struck the reinforced window behind Lena, causing it to crack into a web of fractures and sending her tumbling to the floor in a tremor. Jando didn't mock her; he stared at the glass, his face deathly pale.

Just a moment ago, he had seen a pitch-black ghost flash past.

Then, outside the carriage, the roars of the private guards erupted once more.

"He's by the carriage! Open fire!"

"Damn it, where is he?!"

"Keep firing, keep firing! Reserve fire team, maintain vigilance!"

"Found you, you bastard! Taste this—what?! No, no!"

"He's there! He killed A-7! He, he, he cut him open—!"

"No, he's on my side!"

Chaos arrived silently, then erupted without warning. Madness spread in its wake; gunfire roared incessantly, even from the reserve fire team. Everyone pulled their triggers in a frenzy, yet this could not mask a single fact.

The sound of gunfire was growing weaker, while the screams grew more numerous.

A torrential downpour whistled past, and a deathly silence began to crawl through the carriage.

Jando's hands began to tremble. He stared at the nearly shattered window glass, and under the soft yellow light of the passenger carriage, he clearly saw murky rainwater seeping in through the cracks.

But there was also blood, spreading down from above the window.

Jando slowly raised his head and saw a corpse. It had appeared on the skylight without warning; no one had noticed when it arrived.

Its limbs were gone, and the helmet capable of stopping bullets had been removed. Its face was pressed tightly against the skylight, and its pitch-black, lifeless eyes stared fixedly at Jando.

He met its gaze.

Three seconds later, Jando collapsed to the floor, his legs trembling.

"Big sister," he called out, shivering.

"I see it."

Irene replied slowly, her face paler than it had ever been since the day she was born. Then, she raised her left hand: "Commander Helmut is confirmed KIA. Skolevok soldiers, report your casualties to me."

Gasps—incredibly heavy gasps—came from the other end of the wristband: "Soldier A-1 has assumed the position of commander, honorable Irene Skolevok. We have suffered heavy casualties; there are only nine of us left."

"How is this possible?!" Lena, who had been slumped on the floor for a while, shrieked. "How could forty Skolevok Family soldiers—"

"—Shut your mouth, Lena."

Irene turned back with a grim expression. She turned around and finally retrieved an automatic gun from the small armory beneath the seat.

She expertly checked the magazine, inspected the chamber, and immediately chambered a round. She raised it in a standard stance, then slowly backed away until she reached the heavy door connecting the passenger carriage to the front carriage, where she finally stopped.

"Listen to every word I say next, Skolevok Family soldiers. You are down to nine, you have suffered heavy casualties, yes."

"But the Skolevok Family will not forget your sacrifice. The families of all the fallen will be well cared for, and your children will be granted the status of private soldiers. Therefore, you know what must be done."

"Understood!"

Soldier A-1, who had taken over as commander, roared: "You all heard the words of the honorable Irene Skolevok! We will die for Skolevok!"

"Yes, I heard it too."

A low voice sounded amidst the curtain of rain. It pierced through the rain, pierced through the carriage, carrying boundless cold that made one's spine chill as if it had crossed the boundary between life and death.

"Then, I shall grant you the death you crave, Commander A-1."

"He's in front! Open—"

"No! Commander!"

"Don't, please—!"

The final shrill scream tore through the night. From the start of the attack until now, not even six minutes had passed. Inside the carriage, the three of them wore different expressions, yet their faces were equally deathly pale.

"Your Excellency," Irene spoke with difficulty again, attempting a final effort. But the attacker did not grant her wish.

"Bang!"

A loud noise rang out again. The right side of the carriage was struck by a massive force, so great that it nearly made them unable to stand.

"Bang!"

"Bang!"

"Bang!"

"Bang!"

Five consecutive strikes came from the right side of the passenger carriage. One after another, each more vicious than the last. The sturdy surface of this carriage, which had accompanied the Skolevok Family for over two hundred and twenty years, actually began to bulge inward.

Then, on that bulging metal, a blade pierced in gently and slowly. The sound of metal grinding slowly arose, and the blade rotated as easily as if cutting through butter. In just a few seconds, a massive circle had appeared.

Jando's breathing grew shaky. As Irene had said, he did not know many of the secrets of Iron Pride, but he knew one thing.

The shell of Iron Pride was made with a small amount of admantine mixed in.

"Screech."

Accompanied by a harsh, light sound, the metal circle cut into the carriage was slowly "pushed" open. The heavy circular piece of metal fell onto the expensive carpet, creating a dull echo.

The incandescent light from outside the highway rushed in, followed by the stench of acid rain and a scent of blood so thick it was almost enough to drown a person alive.

And then—they saw a cloaked figure standing amidst the corpses, gazing toward them.

Beneath the hood, a ghostly blue light was blooming.

"Plop."

"Ah!" Lena shrieked, her nerves frayed to the breaking point.

She did not know if the sound originated from former Commander Helmut, whose mangled corpse was sliding off the skylight above, washed away by the torrential downpour. Had this happened ten minutes ago, Lena would have noticed it clearly.

But now, she was no longer Lena Skraivok; she was merely a captive whose mind had been seized by terror.

And at this very moment, she was far from the only one in the vehicle held prisoner by fear.

Otherwise, why had no one opened fire?

"Shh. When others are preparing to speak, you ought to remain silent."

A soft, lingering hiss pierced through the curtain of rain and the howling gale, followed by a voice that spoke with gentle cadence.

"Now, run, children of the Skraivok house."

"Step out of that precious vehicle and run beneath the filthy acid rain. I want your noble lungs to breathe the raw, putrid air of the Underhive, and I want your pale skin to be scorched by the acid."

"I want you to feel agony."

"I will kill you, but not yet. Torture is always such fun, children of the Skraivok house."

He chuckled lowly, the incandescent light blurring in the misty rain.

"The reinforcements you called are almost here. For the next twelve hours, you may run, you may hide, or you may try to resist. But I want you to remember one thing."

The dark shadow took a slow step forward. That single movement caused Lena's screams to intensify, made Jando look up in horror, and left Irene barely able to remain standing.

Then, he slowly raised his right hand, a tattoo flickering into view beneath the silver blade strapped to his wrist.

"The Vengeful Wraith has come for you."

As the words fell, he vanished.

Silence began to spread within the carriage. The stench of blood assaulted their nostrils, mingled with the foul odor and the biting cold blown in by the gale. Jando began to breathe in ragged gasps; he needed to do so to regain his composure.

He turned his head to glance at Lena, who remained paralyzed by fear, instinctively wanting to mock her to soothe his own terror and release the joy of having survived.

However, at that very moment, a freezing breath brushed against his ear.

"Run," a frigid voice commanded.

Five seconds later, three screams erupted from the carriage, and three figures bolted out, sprinting without a shred of dignity through the filthy acid rain they had helped create.

Behind them, low, manic laughter echoed through the night.

Update.

Adjusting the update schedule; tomorrow should be earlier.

Additionally, this chapter is based on the author's personal experience.