It took Karyl nearly an hour and a half to make his slow way back to the Sanctuary. The exhaustion and pain brought on by overusing that power were part of it, but more than anything, he had taken a little time to gather information about his prey.
A hunter ought to keep track of such things at all times, or at least pick up a few clues. Otherwise, how could the hunt even begin?
Pulling himself up with both hands, he reached the top of the building. Just as he'd expected, Wraith was crouched atop the Sanctuary, keeping an eye on their Rainwater Filter.
He loved drinking the slightly bitter water it produced, so he treasured that Rainwater Filter.
The cold wind swept past as the torrential rain came crashing down. His cloak could no longer hold back such a violent storm, and Karyl's clothes were already soaked through. A stormy night on Nostramo was hard to endure, even for him.
He was cold, and his rain-soaked skin stung, but none of that mattered.
A flash of blue light, and Karyl appeared on the rooftop.
"Wraith."
The huge black shadow crouched atop the Sanctuary whipped around, then charged through the curtain of rain. "Karyl! Are you all right?"
"I'm fine. Thanks for asking, Wraith. And go inside. Haven't I told you to stay indoors when the weather's this bad?"
"But..." Wraith stepped aside and came up behind Karyl, speaking with some hesitation. "If I'm inside, I can't see you come back."
Karyl paused mid-stride, then continued as if nothing had happened. "You can hear me coming back, can't you?"
"The rain's heavy," Wraith said. "And the wind, too. I didn't hear you come back just now."
"..."
Karyl said nothing. He went to the Sanctuary's door, gently lifted its new panel a little, and only then pushed it open.
Compared to its predecessor, it was a little more intact. Not by much, but it was enough.
There weren't many choices.
Karyl walked in slowly, took off his cloak, and tossed it into a corner. The rain had already washed away the blood. It didn't need to be cleaned, and it couldn't be cleaned again, anyway.
It was nearly worn out.
Wraith quietly closed the door, then returned to his corner with practiced ease and began poking at his wooden board with a fingernail. At the sight, Karyl couldn't help sighing.
"Karyl?"
"Hmm?"
"Why did you sigh?"
There was unmistakable caution in Wraith's voice. Karyl, still facing away from him, fell silent for a moment.
"...Because I have a lot on my mind right now, Wraith."
"Is it because I didn't do my job properly?"
"No, no. You did well. I checked when I got back, and every lookout post had been cleared. You did well, Wraith."
"But..."
"I'm fine, Wraith."
Karyl turned around and smiled at Wraith. He sat down on the battered chair, his gaze falling on the dented tin cup nearby.
A cup of bitter filtered water was waiting for him.
He reached for it and took a small sip. His body was in rough shape, and he really did need a cup of water or a nutrient paste. Given the choice, Karyl would still rather have the water.
"Thanks for getting the water ready for me, Wraith," Karyl said. "Also, our plan worked perfectly, and that was thanks to you."
"Really?"
"Of course."
"But..." Wraith hesitated. "I feel like clearing the lookouts didn't really help with the plan. The Skolevok Family members were the important part, and they were your targets."
Karyl didn't answer right away. He simply took a second sip of water. As bitterness spread across his tongue, he asked, "How did it feel?"
"Huh?"
"Your first time acting on your own. How did it feel, Wraith?"
Wraith fell silent. That was only natural. Karyl hadn't expected a one-and-a-half-year-old child to be able to put his feelings into words. Not even when the child stood over two meters tall and could tear an armored car apart with a wave of his hand.
Strength and intelligence had never been linked.
But conversations like this were necessary.
No one could truly understand another person's feelings, not even family. The ability to communicate perfectly was one of humanity's most precious evolutionary gifts, and Karyl wouldn't waste it.
"I..."
Wraith stared blankly ahead. His gaze wasn't on Karyl; he was looking into the darkness, and the darkness stared back just as intently.
Karyl waited patiently.
"I feel awful," Wraith said slowly.
"Because you killed them?"
"No, because..."
"Because?"
"Because they all cried," Wraith said, pressing his lips together. "Karyl, they weren't human, so why did they cry?"
A good question.
Karyl set down his cup.
"Because they were afraid."
"Afraid?"
Karyl smiled faintly.
"Yes. They feared death. Just like anger, fear could drive people to do things they might not want to do. Let me guess: someone begged you to spare him tonight?"
"...Yes," Wraith murmured. "Barry. His name was Barry."
Wraith fell silent for a while. Karyl listened quietly, without interrupting or pressing him for more.
He had always been a good listener.
"He cried and begged me to spare him. He said the Skolevok Family had forced him to oppress the workers. Just like you told me to, I asked him about it."
Wraith raised his head and looked at Karyl. He could see in the darkest night, so he could make out the calm expression on Karyl's face.
"I asked him if the Skolevok Family had made him eat people, run a butcher shop, commit murder, traffic people, kill people in the street, or rob people at will. He froze."
"Then I told him that since he'd accepted becoming a servant of the Skolevok Family and enjoyed the benefits, he shouldn't complain about it."
"Then he said he'd joined the gang because he wanted to stay alive."
Wraith pressed his lips together. "He wasn't lying, Karyl. He really meant it. But why? Do people have to rely on oppression and violence to survive on Nostramo?"
Another good question. Another one worth an all-night conversation to explain.
"That depends on how you define being alive, Wraith," Karyl said, leaning back in his chair and tilting his head up.
His clothes, soaked through by the rain, kept stinging his skin. He couldn't take them off; otherwise, the heavy fabric, soaked with acid rain, would likely take a layer of skin with it.
Karyl had no strength to spare for healing himself, and he didn't want to use his power for something like that.
Besides, in his view, this stinging pain was a good thing in its own way.
Pain kept a person alert.
"Being alive is just being alive, isn't it?" Wraith asked, confused.
"No, it isn't. Everyone has their own answer to that question. Since you asked, I'll tell you what I think, Wraith."
"You can listen, and you can remember, but don't take these thoughts as your own. One day, you'll have your own answers."
Karyl spoke gently.
"In my view, there are two ways to define being alive. The first is like the Serrated Beasts outside the city. They want only enough food to fill their bellies, a cave to shelter in, and a mate. They think of nothing else."
"The second is different."
"Seeking delicious food. Seeking a home that's not only sheltered from the wind and rain, but also cozy and beautiful. Seeking someone you love who loves you in return, and a continuation of life: a child."
"Can you see the difference, Wraith?"
Once again, Wraith answered with his usual blank expression.
Ghost couldn't help laughing. His voice echoed through the Sanctuary. Outside, the wind howled mournfully, but mixed with it, his laughter wasn't frightening at all.
"...I can't see the difference, Karyl," Wraith replied, a little dejectedly. He was so easy to read; every emotion was written on his face, like an open book.
Karyl was still smiling as he shook his head. "It's normal that you don't understand. No one would expect a one-and-a-half-year-old child to understand this. But I want you to remember one thing."
"What?"
Karyl spoke softly. "The man named Barry was pursuing the second way of being alive."
Wraith's eyes widened in surprise. Karyl had described the second way of being alive as something wonderful, and Wraith couldn't understand what Barry had to do with it.
"Actually, Wraith, all the gangs and nobles on Nostramo are pursuing the second way of being alive. But that doesn't mean it's bad. They're just going about it the wrong way, and in a truly terrible fashion."
"The way they do it?"
"Yes. We can't blame them entirely for that. There's something wrong with this world, Wraith."
Karyl tilted his head back and closed his eyes, sighing with weariness. His voice grew softer, like a whisper before sleep or a murmur in a dream.
"Everyone wants a better life. Everyone wants to live with dignity. No one wants to endure eighteen hours of harsh conditions in a factory, then drag their exhausted body home and cough up blood in a cramped, foul-smelling shack, bringing their illness home to their family."
Wraith saw rainwater trickle down Karyl's face.
"No one wants to endure those things, and no one should have to. But they have no choice. Their only options are to join a gang or die one night."
"Those who choose the latter have to swallow everything: hardship, sorrow, anger, despair. Some have fought back, but their resistance is nothing against an Autogun."
"It shouldn't be this way, Wraith," Karyl said in a low voice. "The world shouldn't be like this."
"...Are you sad, Karyl?" Wraith asked cautiously.
"No."
"But you seem to be—"
"—Wake me up in seven hours, okay, Wraith?"
"Huh?"
"I need to rest for a while." Karyl opened his eyes and smiled calmly. "There's one last step to our plan, so wake me up in seven hours, all right?"
"...All right, Karyl," Wraith murmured.
For some reason, Wraith felt sad at that moment.
But not because of Barry.
Before you continue