Light (1)

"My family will kill you!"

"Hmm."

Karyl nodded at the man, then casually severed his head.

He had listened to the noble's words and granted him a modicum of respect.

The scene around him remained all too familiar: corpses and severed limbs scattered across the floor. Blood spread across the deep crimson carpet, forming a blurred pool. Without a close look, it was impossible to tell where the carpet ended and the gore began.

Then, he smelled the fear.

Karyl slowly pocketed this emotion, turning his head as his blade shimmered in the darkness. A terrified Shadow flickered and vanished around the corner of the corridor.

His harvest came from him.

"Run," Karyl said softly. "While you still can."

A second later, a scream erupted from around the corner.

The hiding noble began the final sprint of his life. He quickly fled the gathering place where the nobles indulged themselves and burst outside.

The streets of the Upper Hive were straight and beautiful, lined with soft white light sources that made the pitch-black night seem serene. The night in the Upper Hive was quiet, too; he could hear nothing but his own gasping breaths and the frantic thudding of his footsteps.

But, beyond that?

That thing—that monster—would he catch up?

The noble dared not even look back. He lacked the courage, terrified that a single glance would reveal the Shadow lunging toward him, ready to disembowel him with that blade just as he had done to all the others.

So he ran, running without pause.

Standing at the window on the second floor of the gathering place, Karyl watched him recede with calm detachment, making no move to pursue and kill this lone survivor.

He had let him go on purpose.

Raiding this gathering place had been an impulsive decision; letting him go, however, was meant to sow a seed of terror among the nobles.

He had already seen him.

He had already remembered him.

And so, for that noble, only one way of escape remained. He did not know it yet, but he would.

Closing his eyes, Karyl took a deep breath.

This habit was intentional, a form of psychological suggestion. At first, he had simply told himself that deep breathing would calm his nerves. Now, it truly did.

He had done it so many times that his heart had accepted the suggestion.

People really do change through subtle, imperceptible shifts, Karyl thought.

He pushed open the window and jumped silently from the second floor, his boots making a soft thud against the pavement. A height that once required careful maneuvering now didn't even necessitate bracing for impact; his muscles and bones were stronger and tougher than ever before.

And, it seemed, they were still growing stronger.

Karyl pursed his lips and quickly left the area, vanishing into the night.

He didn't know if this was a good thing or a bad thing, but he could say with certainty that he didn't like the feeling. He would rather have back the body that used to ache for half a day after every use of his power.

Half an hour later, he returned to the Sanctuary.

Wraith was already waiting, crouching on the edge of the building like an animal. Neon lights sliced the sky into jagged shapes, and eerie spires stacked layer upon layer, stretching into the distance. A cold wind blew past, stirring Wraith's long hair.

His hair was soft now.

Karyl emerged from the darkness, deliberately clicking his boot heels against the ground. The sound startled Wraith, who had been deep in thought. The latter turned his head, a look of obvious surprise on his face.

"Karyl?"

"What is it?" Karyl asked with a smile.

"You..." Wraith blinked, looking at him suspiciously. "Did you just get back?"

"No."

"But I didn't notice you returning," Wraith said, bewildered. "How is that possible?"

"I don't know either."

Karyl smiled and shook his head. He didn't reveal his worries or his distaste to Wraith; there was no need. "Perhaps it will take time for us to find the answer to that."

"As for now... well, it's still early. Why don't we talk about your patrol?"

He walked over and sat beside Wraith, having no intention of rushing to eat the remaining plate of nutrient paste. The scent of blood still lingered in his nostrils, and although he was somewhat hungry, he didn't want to eat in this state.

One must have some standards, after all.

Wraith nodded and then smiled—his expression more natural than it had ever been. Though it was only a slight curve of the lips, it was enough to make Karyl smile along with him.

"The workers are living a bit better than before," Wraith said happily. "On the eve of The Great Purge, the factories gave them time off. And they didn't even deduct their food rations."

That was to be expected; after all, The Great Purge only happened once every twenty years.

Gangs might fight over territory, but they weren't foolish enough to kill the factory workers at a time like this—otherwise, how would they keep the factories running afterward?

Letting them take leave and hide in the shantytown—a temporary safe zone—was the right move.

It was absolutely the right move.

Kael Lohars nodded calmly, listening intently without rushing to interrupt or offer his own opinion. He knew full well that at times like these, Wraith always had plenty to say.

"But the gangs aren't hanging around the streets anymore." Wraith curled his lip. "I didn't hear any useful information today. Oh, and Gargoyle No. 21!"

He looked at Kael. The latter was not surprised, knowing it was his turn to offer a response.

"What happened to it?" he asked softly.

"It was dismantled," Wraith said, his tone revealing little. "Along with the building it was on."

"Did someone start a turf war early?"

"Must have. There were signs of explosions all over the scene. I saw some people collecting the bodies. Kael, can I ask you a question?"

"Of course."

"After they die, do they get sent to the butcher shop too?"

"No."

"Then?"

"The crematorium, the black market, or to doctors who perform body modifications."

Kael provided the three answers in order, precise and rigorous. He was always cautious when addressing questions raised by Wraith: "The butcher shop is not where they end up."

"But why?"

"Because in the eyes of the gangs, they are all human to one another," Kael said. "And humans do not eat humans."

Wraith's eyes widened. "But—"

"—Yes," Kael smiled. "Exactly what you're thinking. They don't view the civilians as human. Even though they were once one of them."

"This mindset has circulated on Nostramo for thousands of years. To a large extent, most youths are so desperate to join a gang because they want to become 'human'."

Wraith listened earnestly, nodding from time to time. The reversal of roles between listener and storyteller was both sudden and natural. The night sky hung low overhead, and they conversed calmly amidst the cold wind.

—It seemed like just another ordinary night.

If that light had never descended.

Kael jerked his head up as a voice echoed in his mind.

+Come outside the city, Kael Lohars. And please, bring your Wraith, my son, Konrad Curze.+

"My Liege, I implore you to reconsider."

"I have considered it many times."

"But the Sigillite—"

"—Please, Constantin," the giant clad in golden armor said. "I must do this, or I will never gain his trust."

"You do not need the trust of a psyker on a remote planet, especially when the Sigillite says he is full of suspicious inconsistencies."

"Everyone is full of suspicious inconsistencies in Malcador's eyes," the giant said. "He even tells me my actions are wrong at times."

"But that psyker is indeed suspicious, My Liege."

"You haven't even met him, Constantin."

"Compared to a psyker I have never met who is accompanied by one of your sons, I would rather trust the Sigillite and his judgment, which has never failed thus far."

The giant sighed.

"Very well," he said. "Are you truly unwilling to heed my counsel, Constantin?"

"You are my Liege; naturally, I am willing."

"Then do me this favor—and all of you, I know there are others listening behind you to my conversation with your Captain-General—let me go down alone with my sons."

The man addressed as Captain-General wore no helmet. He kept his hair very short, almost shaved to the scalp, leaving only a thin layer of stubble. He was not handsome, but he was deeply convincing. A quiet strength resided in that face.

Constantin Valdor was his name.

"Well, Constantin?" his Liege asked.

"If this is the command of the Master of Mankind, the Emperor, we shall obey."

The giant, who bore the noble title, sighed again—a display that would have shocked his sons had they seen it. A few of them might even have glared at the Adeptus Custodes Captain-General with envy.

But the Captain-General did not care. He never had.

"Must you be like this, Constantin Valdor?" his Liege asked slowly.

"You are asking me to deviate from my duty. You are asking us to deviate from our duty. You are even going to set foot on that filthy ground to meet a dirty psyker."

Constantin looked up and said firmly, "So, yes. You must issue the order."

"Then," the Emperor said slowly, "you leave me no choice."

In that moment, for the first time, he acted in a manner befitting his title.

"I will descend to the surface with my sons, and none of you are to follow. Set all weapons on my ship to standby, and ensure the Astartes and the armies remain exactly where they are supposed to be."

"Anything else, my liege?" the reluctant Captain-General of the Adeptus Custodes asked, dutiful to the end.

"Nothing more." The Emperor offered an imperceptible smile. "I have always been fond of you in this state."

"."

The Captain-General raised his hands in a silent salute, then turned and departed in his armor. Behind him, his liege slowly pushed open the great doors, his expression already transformed.

+Prepare yourselves.+

He spoke to the four other consciousnesses within his mind. +We depart at once.+