People were ruled by their emotions.
Karyl knew this well—so when Ilgana, the sorrowful Baroness of the Silver-Winged Corpse, roared and lunged at him, he had already anticipated it and dodged.
Every move she made was within his expectations. There was nothing remarkable about that; it was merely a practical application of observation, not even worth explaining.
Dodging attacks had become second nature to Karyl.
Watching the blade in the Baroness's hand, Karyl thought, Another rebel. Admirable courage.
But it was useless.
Ghost raised a hand and, in an instant, seized her right wrist. Then he squeezed, forcing her to drop the blade. Without pause, he easily snapped her hand.
As the sickening crack of breaking bones rang out, Karyl shook his head coldly.
"Save your strength. Your family is finished. After tonight, the Silver-Winged Corpse will be nothing but history."
He wasn't exaggerating. In the past thirty minutes, he had killed 723 people. They belonged to a terrible name. They wore velvet cloaks, and they were pale-faced and carnivorous.
And now they were all dead. Only this last one remained.
"Do you know what you've done?!" The Baroness roared as she struggled to her feet. The pain of her broken arm hadn't made her give up.
She grabbed the blade from the ground with her left hand and lunged at Karyl again, her face twisted with fury until she seemed almost like another kind of creature.
"Of course I do," Karyl replied calmly. "I made your family history. I made all of you history. What else?"
He dodged the Baroness's attack, then kicked her to the ground.
His foot struck her ribs squarely. The sharp pain of the broken bones tempered her fury and kept her on the ground for the moment, screaming in agony.
Ghost crouched down gently, blue light already shining in his eyes. He took a deep breath, forcing himself to focus on what was in front of him.
He didn't want to hear the voice from the other side of the Veil anymore. As time passed, it had begun calling to him constantly, never letting up. It was maddening—and it was getting louder and more intense.
Karyl thought he could still endure it, but he needed to hurry.
Only one last family, a family known by name, remained to be destroyed. The Silver-Winged Corpse hadn't even been on his list.
They had fallen into decline and no longer held power. He had come for them only to answer a question that had taken root in his mind long ago.
Besides, his accumulation of power had reached a threshold. He had to settle everything before he crossed it.
Karyl grabbed the Baroness by the hair, rough and impatient now, no longer showing the patience he once had. Then he spoke coldly. "Tell me the truth."
The Baroness shuddered. Her neck tilted back, and the same icy blue light that shone in Karyl's eyes lit her pitch-black ones. Her expression gradually grew calm, a terrible indifference spreading across her face.
She said quietly, "What do you want to know?"
"Your family's secret. I know the Silver-Winged Corpse is obsessed with altering the human body and seeking immortality. You've crossed many forbidden lines. I want to know if you ever created beings with superhuman strength."
"Yes," The Baroness answered woodenly. "But they never lived long. Their strength made their own bodies fall apart."
Just as he'd thought.
Every power came at a price.
Karyl closed his eyes and shook his head.
The identity of the Wraith wasn't a mystery to him. He could guess where a creature like that had come from.
Where else but the nobles' laboratories? The nobles of Nostramo would do anything to extend their lives. That naturally included many horrifying experiments.
"Was there a way to extend their lives? Or eliminate that genetic defect altogether?"
"There used to be."
The Baroness answered with a tremble. Her muscles began to spasm, and the hundreds of surgically implanted modifications in her body began to twitch.
Her flesh convulsed, grotesque bulges appearing all over her body. The sight was so frenzied that it could shatter the sanity of some. Yet the Baroness, who was experiencing it herself, still spoke calmly. The contrast was chilling.
"There used to be?"
"Seventy years ago, one of our ancestors spent half his life searching for a way to fix that genetic defect. He succeeded. He improved the test subjects' genomes and extended their lifespans."
"But in the end, he went mad. He destroyed all the research materials himself, then vanished in an explosion along with our laboratory."
"..."
Karyl opened his eyes, then closed them again.
He blinked rapidly and took a deep, drawn-out breath. He quickly calmed himself, but still couldn't stop his hands from clenching into fists.
Hope had come so quickly, but its destruction had caught him just as unprepared.
—A one-and-a-half-year-old child had been entrusted to his care. He had taught him how to kill and thrown him into a bloody vortex.
And the child didn't even have a name.
He was nearly dead, and he didn't even know it. Right now, he was probably still completing the task Karyl had given him in the freezing night.
What have I done?
I've been trying to save this world for my own reasons, but can't I even save one child?
No. That wasn't right.
Something didn't add up.
"That's impossible."
Karyl spoke quietly, holding back the emotions roiling inside him.
"He's only eighteen months old. If your laboratory was completely destroyed seventy years ago, how did he survive until now?"
The Baroness didn't answer. She had lost the ability to speak; only her lips continued to open and close mechanically.
"Tell me the truth!"
Ghost suddenly roared, no longer able to suppress the fury that had grown out of his self-reproach.
He thrust out both hands and seized the Baroness's head. Blue light blazed in his eyes—a primal instinct made his hands grow cold as power surged through his body.
It roared and surged, answering its master's fury as it crashed through the Baroness's mind and soul. Then, in the dead eyes of her twisted face, Karyl saw his own reflection.
His eyes widened, and in the next instant he realized he had made a mistake.
People were ruled by their emotions. He knew that well. It was how he had always acted.
But at this very moment, he had forgotten to control his emotions—and they soon made him pay.
Starting where his hands touched the Baroness's head, the power in Karyl's body became tangible blue radiance, pouring violently from his hands.
Strange whispers filled the air. The brightly lit room began to sink into darkness, and a palpable chill spread, almost freezing his own consciousness. Then—
The Veil that had shielded him from malice was shaken by his power.
A thunderous battle cry rang out from beyond it, followed by a low laugh.
Karyl watched it all happen, wanting to stop it but powerless to do so. At first, the blue light still belonged to him. But soon, it didn't.
Amid that low laughter, the blue light slowly changed. Like water changing color, it gradually turned into crimson flames, then flared up violently.
Then something appeared from the darkness.
Where are you?
The thing asked in a voice beyond description. Where are you?
Come out—face me, and claim the glory you deserve.
I can feel your fury. I know you want to set the world aflame.
Then come.
Power, blessings, blades, armor.
All these things,
I can give you.
Make them repent as they scream! Set the world ablaze, and bring victory through slaughter!
"I..." Karyl began, trembling, but couldn't bring himself to say anything more.
Through the pain, he remembered the words he himself had spoken.
If you keep knocking on Hell's door, sooner or later, the devil will come looking for you.
Now, his devil had arrived.
Running, running with all his might.
The Night Haunter didn't yet understand what the emotion boiling inside him was, but he had to admit it was driving him to the brink of madness.
Following the scene he had witnessed in his vision, and relying on his innate ability to identify a building's purpose and even its materials, the Wraith had made his way to the Upper Hive without making a sound.
The air here was very clean, yet thick with the smell of blood. The Wraith's instincts told him the latter was Karyl's handiwork.
But where are you, Karyl?
As he ran, he thought this. He pressed his lips together, his black hair whipping in the wind. He moved so fast he seemed to tear through the air. His not-yet-fully-grown body was being pushed by its owner in a completely reckless manner.
The Wraith didn't care anymore.
He had to find Karyl—he had to find him while there was still a chance to turn everything around.
He wanted to save Nostramo, but he absolutely didn't want to see a Nostramo without Karyl in it.
He leaped, vaulted over a wall, then leaped again.
The Wraith's keen sense of smell could clearly trace the source of the blood in the wind. He pursued it without pause, following the trail Karyl had left behind.
He charged past gloomy towers and sturdy fortresses, stepped over broken bodies and lakes of blood, smashed through the darkness and pierced the Upper Hive's thick fog—
Then he screamed into the night.
The sound was full of anguish.
"Karyl—!"
The Wraith raced through the darkness, his voice echoing through the thick fog and shattering the Upper Hive's silence.
"Karyl! Refuse Him, refuse Him! Don't accept His offer! He can't see you!"
"You have to refuse Him."
The Wraith began murmuring in agony, his head splitting with pain. But he couldn't stop now. He still hadn't found him.
Panting, the Wraith forced himself to follow the last trace his sense of smell had given him. He drew a deep breath and raced toward a gloomy tower.
Above him, the night gazed down in silence.
Before you continue