Release Pressure

Wraith shook his hands to rid them of the sticky blood; it clung stubbornly, but eventually gave way. The droplets splattered, creating even more crimson stains on the brown carpet.

Staring at them, Wraith blinked.

As time passed and he grew more adept at this line of work, he began to feel that relying on his fingernails to tear people apart wasn't the best choice.

First, it always left such a messy scene.

Second, it always left him covered in blood.

Take right now, for instance: he was drenched. Not only that, but bits of shredded flesh were hanging off his shoulder, swaying with his every movement.

These were the proofs of his slaughter.

Beyond that, an obvious sense of bewilderment was manifesting on his pale face.

A swift and efficient killer shouldn't be wearing such a blank expression.

As for the reason, you would have to ask the person pacing back and forth in front of him, busy hauling corpses.

"What are you doing, Karyl?" Wraith asked, puzzled.

Karyl didn't answer; he simply dragged two dead nobles and tossed them into the hall, not forgetting to wipe the blood from his hands onto their clothes as he did so.

What was he doing?

The answer was obvious—moving bodies, doing the heavy lifting himself. He was carrying the corpses piled in the corridor into the hall, one by one.

Karyl chose not to use that power to do it. He knew he could, but he didn't.

He didn't want to.

After all, who could say for sure that it didn't come with a price?

When dealing with such an eerie power that defied explanation, it was best to be cautious.

Furthermore, if one were to use it for menial tasks like moving debris, what use were the arms one was born with?

The point of evolution wasn't to turn people into lazy worms who only knew how to indulge.

"Karyl?"

Wraith called out again, not forgetting to lower his head and scrape the bits of flesh from under his fingernails.

"We've finished the job. Shouldn't we head back to the Sanctuary?"

"Don't be in such a hurry, Wraith."

Karyl said without looking back, continuing his work of moving the bodies.

"But."

Wraith looked back at the growing mountain of corpses in the hall and frowned. "Aren't we supposed to leave the scene quickly once the job is done? You said so yourself."

"Sometimes, no. I said that, too."

"Then won't we be discovered?" Wraith asked again.

Karyl let out a low chuckle.

He was practically hoping they would come.

"It doesn't matter if we're discovered, Wraith."

Karyl explained softly.

"For one, most nobles don't care about the commotion happening in another family's territory; they won't judge how others choose to relax. In my opinion, that is the only merit they possess."

"Secondly. This is a rare opportunity."

"Opportunity?"

"Yes, an opportunity." Karyl turned his head and nodded. "A very rare opportunity for you."

By now, he had finally cleared the scattered corpses from the corridor. Karyl had moved them all into the hall with his own two hands, leaving none behind.

He then walked to the end of the corridor, pushed open a door wrapped in dark-patterned leather, and glanced inside.

"Very good. Go take a bath," he said, turning back and clapping his hands in satisfaction.

Wraith blinked, his expression dazed.

He hadn't expected the rare opportunity Karyl mentioned to be this.

"...A bath?"

"Yes, a bath."

Karyl nodded, leaning against the crimson wall with his arms crossed. His expression was relaxed—something unprecedented.

"Everyone should value personal hygiene; it wards off germs and prevents unnecessary illnesses. Of course, there is the most important point."

Karyl tilted his head to look at the ceiling and sighed silently. "...The moment the warm water washes over you, it brings a sense of temporary relaxation."

"This is very important, Wraith. If you feel stressed, you must find a way to release that pressure. Do you understand?"

"Relaxation?" Wraith asked, confused. "I've washed myself with acid rain before, Karyl. I didn't feel relaxed."

Kael turned his head, not answering Wraith's question immediately. After a moment, he spoke.

"Using acid rain, strictly speaking, cannot be considered cleaning yourself, Wraith. Do you know that acid rain is actually the domestic wastewater dumped by the nobles?"

Wraith was struck with horror, his expression shifting in a mere half-second.

"I, I—" he stammered. "But. Me?!"

"Go wash up now."

Kael's voice remained as usual, yet he still did not let Wraith see his expression. "In any case, just relax."

Wraith nodded repeatedly, then dashed toward the room, not even forgetting to close the door behind him.

Behind him, Kael Lohars revealed a calm, fleeting smile.

He closed his eyes and slowly exhaled a breath of stale air.

The air purifiers installed by the nobles were working tirelessly, forcing the thick, terrifying stench of blood produced by the grand slaughter to dissipate, albeit reluctantly.

In the end, they could not resist this machine, just as the nobles could not resist Kael and Wraith.

Whether preparations were made or not, it no longer mattered.

The objective was complete, Kael thought.

But—what happens after this?

He narrowed his eyes and paced slowly beside the pile of corpses, wanting to think, but the sticky sensation under his feet made it impossible to continue.

Blood.

Kael sighed silently, turned his head toward a sofa in the center of the hall, and walked over slowly.

After cautiously selecting a spot without too much blood, he sat down slowly.

The soft sensation against his waist, back, and beneath him made him exhale in relief. It felt completely different from sitting on that chair in the Sanctuary.

When sitting on that dilapidated chair, he had to keep his back perfectly straight to avoid losing his balance. Therefore, sitting on it wasn't like relaxing; it was more like a form of torture.

It could not compare to the feeling of sitting on this soft and comfortable sofa.

Truly luxurious; even a single sofa is like this.

Kael lowered his head, thinking quietly while surrounded by the remains of the nobles.

The surrounding corpses had eyes that stared, or mouths that screamed in silence. Some faces retained the sensations from before death—a smile, or excitement. Others were filled with terror, twisted into hideous expressions.

Amidst this pile of remains, only Kael's expression was calm. Calmly sitting on a sofa stained red with blood.

Calm to the point of being eerie.

Contrasting this quiet scene were his currently complex thoughts.

Originally, he had never thought about what to do after this. This plan to ignite the flame had no follow-up at the very beginning.

Before he met Wraith, the ultimate goal of this plan was to use his own body as a catalyst to blow up the entire Upper Hive.

Kael certainly knew this was reckless and completely irresponsible, but he needed to stand up.

Centuries had passed, and on Nostramo, no one resisted the nobles anymore. No one even knew why they should resist—they had completely forgotten the meaning of resistance, knowing only how to submit.

The workers of the Underhive revered the nobles as gods; their children even viewed joining gangs as a promising path.

If one did not want to become a withered, consumptive ghost in the factories or mines like their parents, the only choice was to join a gang.

The gangs took the nobles as their role models, constantly thinking of seizing a seat, entering the Upper Hive, and becoming one of the nobles.

As long as you squeeze into the Upper Hive, you won't have to endure the stench and filth anymore, right?

While on patrol, Kael had heard gangs describe their imagined future in similar tones countless times.

Yes, they committed every evil.

But who made them this way? Who left people to struggle for survival in dark, narrow corners? Who left people without clothes to cover their bodies or food to fill their stomachs?

Kael would kill them, and he would not pity them, for they had done things unworthy of being called human.

However, there was one thing he would not do—he would not mock the illusory dreams of these gang members.

Everyone wants to live with dignity, and the dream they held was the only way, the only way on Nostramo, to make life better.

Ridiculous and cruel, absurd to the point of being unbearable.

The even more terrifying point was that, before meeting Wraith, Kael was the only person on Nostramo who found this unbearable.

Wraith was equally dissatisfied with this, but unlike Kael, he only vaguely felt that it was wrong.

In the heart of this naive monster, there was an intuition gently reminding him of one thing: people should not live as they did on Nostramo.

Thus, after that, Kael had a second thought.

He intended to pave the way for Wraith before he died, killing all the great nobles of the Upper Hive.

This way, after he died, Wraith could raise the banner of resistance he had erected and let the flames cleanse the darkness. He also intended to investigate Wraith's genetic defects so that he could have a normal lifespan like a normal person.

However, now, he hadn't managed to die.

And Wraith was not a product of the nobles' experiments; he had a father, a name, and even brothers.

Karyl closed his eyes. He never would have imagined that one day he would find himself distressed over the fact that he had "failed to die."

But, regardless of everything else.

He opened his eyes.

Being alive, it was truly not bad—

Two shadows leaped across the darkness. Behind them, the Upper Hive remained tranquil, with many nobles still enjoying their decadent, extravagant lives within their family estates.

They knew nothing of what had transpired this night, nor did they know anything of what was to come.

Starting with Mantas Skraivok and ending with a nameless patrol guard—the better part of the night, ten hours, had seen the total annihilation of the high nobility.

Efficient, Karyl thought. Extremely efficient.

Leaping over the spires and running downward, the dark clouds overhead remained ominous, yet Karyl's state of mind was vastly different from when he had arrived. Wraith followed closely behind him, as always.

"Karyl?"

"Hm?"

"What shall we do tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow, huh."

"Should we continue the patrol?"

"Think about tomorrow when tomorrow comes," Karyl said softly. "For tonight, how about we get a good night's sleep?"