The Long Night (3)

A magnificent, enormous chandelier swayed gently. It had six curved arms stretching outward, with white candles burning slowly upon them.

The flames shimmered against its golden surface, making the light it cast seem intoxicatingly beautiful as it swayed—almost romantic.

Without a doubt, it was the sort of chandelier that belonged at a ball.

It would make the atmosphere perfect for flirtatious touches and teasing dance steps. Beneath its radiance, everyone's imagination would run wild.

They would gaze into their partners' faces. Their hands would rest in places where they could feel warmth and softness, and their breathing would grow short and quick.

One unfortunate thing, however, was that Karyl had no intention of dancing with anyone there.

And he hadn't come to attend the ball, either. If anything, he was there to destroy it.

He stepped forward and swung his blade. A head went flying.

He turned and kicked, shattering someone's jaw and sending him airborne.

He grabbed the man's leg, stabbed him through the heart, then hurled him toward the other end of the hall, where a woman clutching her skirt as she fled stumbled and fell with a scream.

"Quiet down," Karyl said softly. "The music's still playing. Your screaming makes it hard to hear."

The woman was too busy screaming to hear him. Still, he was right.

Music was indeed playing in the ballroom.

It was soft and slow, with a hint of playful amusement. A woman's wordless voice hummed suggestively, making the night feel even more enticing. Anyone lucky enough to dance to a song like that would have considered themselves blessed.

"Hah."

Karyl gently breathed out and wiped a hand across his face.

The prolonged killing had left him drenched in blood. His clothes were soaked through, and even his hair had turned wet and slick. It was rather annoying.

He rolled his wrist, then slowly walked toward the noble who had been knocked to the ground.

Karyl was particular about how he went about things. He carefully chose where to step, picking his way past the bodies and mangled flesh. He would rather walk slowly through a pool of blood than touch them.

His boots were still inevitably soaked with blood. At least he didn't have to feel the dead bodies beneath his hands.

"No, no, please let me go..."

The woman on the ground begged through her sobs, with none of a noble's dignity. Karyl couldn't help laughing. He had seen too many scenes like this tonight.

At first, every noble who saw him was confused.

Then, after he drew his blade and began killing, they either offered him money or threatened him with their power.

When they realized neither money nor influence could stop his blade, they broke down and wept.

Some tried to fight back, some tried to run, and others tried to save themselves by telling him what they claimed were "family secrets."

That's really quite amusing, Karyl thought.

He had given them warning, but hardly anyone had taken it seriously. The nobles seemed to think it was some sort of cruel joke.

Well, it wasn't a joke. Karyl didn't like joking around.

The woman on the ground had no idea what Karyl was thinking. At that moment, she only wanted to get away from the monster who had appeared out of nowhere and killed everyone.

She crawled through the pool of blood. Her pristine skirt and velvet gloves were soaked through, and corpses of her companions lay all around her.

She had once been familiar with the smell of blood. Now, it nearly drove her mad. She had personally killed plenty of people, yet at that moment, she was so terrified that she trembled.

"Mm." Karyl nodded helplessly. "Honestly, if you want to run, you should at least stand up first, madam."

He walked over and hauled her up from the pile of bodies, ignoring her struggles. The woman fought like a madwoman, so he grabbed her by the shoulders and squeezed just hard enough for the pain to rein in her frenzy.

The Ghost didn't care.

He simply breathed calmly, his face covered in blood. Nothing but serenity remained in his dark eyes.

After a while, the woman gave up struggling and screaming. She wept in fear, letting out broken sobs.

As he gazed at the face of someone who had once prided herself on her nobility, now utterly ruined by fear, the Ghost suddenly laughed.

"It's always the same. Begging, pleading for me to let you go."

He spoke to himself.

"Offering money, offering status, offering everything you're used to trading. By the rules of profit, you can use wealth and status to buy and control anyone. But I don't belong to those rules."

"Honestly, madam, if you keep knocking on the gates of Hell, sooner or later the devil will come looking for you."

With that, he ignored the woman's pleas and struggles, reached out with his left hand, and gripped her throat. Then he squeezed, abruptly silencing her sobs and begging.

There were still many things that needed to end tonight.

The Ghost dropped the body and tiredly shook his head. He reached the ballroom's open doors and slowly walked out.

The stately corridor was littered with blood and corpses. He had killed the guards one by one before they even realized what was happening. This time, Karyl hadn't even taken a detour. He had walked straight in through the front.

His blood-soaked robes dragged against him, their sticky weight making his skin sting. It was as though they were reminding Karyl not to forget what he had done tonight.

Of course he wouldn't forget. But whether he remembered or not hardly mattered anymore. In a little while, it would all disappear.

The calling was growing closer, growing clearer.

Karyl had never seen what lay beyond the Veil, but he had sensed it. His reason had made him reject those voices again and again.

He knew they came from the darkness and belonged to it.

Or rather, they were the darkness itself.

They had likely waited, ravenous, for humanity since time immemorial. The one calling to him was naturally one of them.

So he wouldn't allow himself to become their puppet, nor let them tempt him. He would cut off every possibility.

And yet, this power was terrifying.

After accepting it for barely four hours, Karyl had already reached an entirely new level.

His once-gaunt frame had grown strong. Bullets he once had to dodge now fell apart with nothing more than a glance.

Even the dangerous Machine Sentries, once formidable enemies, had become little more than walking piles of scrap. With a mere thought, they could no longer sense him. Then they turned their guns on one another.

What kind of power was this?

The Ghost shook his head in wonder and left the fortress.

The cold wind in his face cleared his mind. He cast aside his unnecessary thoughts once more, bent his knees, and leapt. Through the air of the upper Hive City, which was almost fragrant, he raced toward his next destination.

He didn't need to kill every noble. Even if he spent the whole night at it, he wouldn't finish them all.

But he could set the fire. He could dismantle, one by one, the families that held nearly all the power and influence. After that, Wraith would finish everything for him.

While the remaining nobles busied themselves tearing each other apart, Wraith would turn them all into embers in the wind.

But...

Was this really what you wanted to do, Wraith? Or was I just forcing my own wishes onto you? And besides, your origins...

Yes. Where had you come from?

Karyl smiled bitterly as anger toward himself began to burn in his heart.

He took a deep breath, suppressed it once more, and began running.

At the very start of tonight's killing, he had drawn up a list of the families that needed to be eliminated.

But the family that owned the tower he was now racing toward wasn't on that list.

Gunshots rang out without pause.

Autoguns, shotguns, Lasguns—shoddy hand-assembled models, high-end weapons from other Hive Cities, and mass-produced factory-line products.

No matter where they came from, they were all roaring now.

No matter where they came from, they were all clutched in the hands of terrified people, who used them to vent their pent-up emotions.

But was it any use?

The answer, of course, was no.

From the far end of the narrow corridor, Wraith came rushing toward them. Like some terrible predator, he reached out with his claws. After only two intersecting swipes, the people who had been shooting were nothing but a heap of corpses.

No one could stop him. Not even at the cost of their lives could they make him pause.

Wraith smashed through a window and crossed to the other side of the plaza in just a few leaps. The neon lights couldn't illuminate him, and the gangs couldn't catch sight of his shadow.

All they knew was that the gunfire continued, joined by screams and the strong stench of blood drifting through the foul air.

Anyone who hadn't seen him would never believe Wraith existed. But seeing him with their own eyes meant they were close to death.

Six minutes later, Wraith held the last gang member and threw him off the high-rise. The man's scream rang through the cold wind. At last, a dull thud marked the end of his life.

"..."

Wraith wiped the blood from his hands, pressed his lips together, and sat down at the edge of the building.

Karyl had already left. He knew that much.

But what was he going to do?

Wraith had no answer. He only felt a little frustrated. He had completed his task, but Karyl hadn't shown up.

So should he wait?

Go back to the Sanctuary?

Perhaps Karyl would return in a few hours.

Would he come back?

Wraith looked up in confusion at the dim, lightless sky. The broken neon signs couldn't illuminate the profound darkness. As he gazed at the heavy clouds, a sense of weight suddenly began to spread through him.

It was only a momentary lapse, but the cold feeling returned.

Wraith didn't even have time to get angry with himself. His eyes widened as he fell into a flood of visions.

Chaotic, rapidly shifting images piled atop one another, flashing past amid a madness beyond description.

He saw flames—flames consuming an entire planet. They were crimson, almost like blood. Three stars emerged from the darkness in the sky, flickering ominously. A familiar voice sighed in pain from the other side of the stars, sounding sorrowful. A flash of golden light appeared and vanished.

I'm sorry, Wraith.

A voice came on the wind, then faded away.

Karyl?

No, no—don't do this!

Wraith clenched his teeth hard. They clattered together with a sharp rattle.

His will unleashed a tremendous force within his still-growing superhuman body. Another future rapidly drew near. The flames remained, but their color had changed. Brilliant golden light made his eyes ache and struck him like a bolt of lightning.

Wraith abruptly fell backward, convulsing on the cold rooftop. It took several full minutes before he came to.

He struggled to his feet, the spasms and muscle twitches slowly subsiding. In just a few dozen seconds, he would have recovered his strength, but he couldn't wait any longer.

Wraith limped to the edge of the building, clenched his fists, and leapt down.

The cold wind still blew, but he now understood what he had to do.