Light (1)

"My family will kill you!"

"Hmm."

Karyl nodded at the man and casually cut off his head.

He had listened to the nobleman and shown him a little respect.

The familiar scene surrounded him: corpses and severed limbs littered the ground. Blood spread across the deep-red carpet, forming a blurry pool. It was hard to make out unless you looked closely.

Then he smelled fear.

Karyl slowly gathered the emotion into himself. He turned, his blade glinting in the darkness. A terrified Shadow flickered into view at the corner of the corridor, then vanished.

That was where his harvest had come from.

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

The next second, a scream rang out from around the corner.

The nobleman in hiding began the final mad dash of his life. He soon left the gathering place where the nobles indulged themselves and made it outside.

The Upper Hive's roads were straight and beautiful, with soft white lights along the roadside that made the pitch-black night seem peaceful. The Upper Hive was quiet at night, too. He could barely hear anything beyond his own panting and pounding footsteps.

But what about that thing?

That monster—would it catch up to him?

The nobleman didn't even dare look back. He didn't have the courage. He feared that the moment he turned around, he would see that Shadow pouncing on him, gutting him with its blade just as it had killed everyone else.

So he ran, and kept running.

From a second-floor window in the gathering place, Karyl watched him disappear into the distance without a trace of emotion. He didn't pursue him to kill the lone survivor.

He had let him escape on purpose.

He had raided the gathering place on a whim. Letting the man go was meant to spread a little terror among the nobles.

He had already seen him.

He had already memorized him.

So there was really only one way for the nobleman to escape. He didn't know it yet, but he would.

Closing his eyes, Karyl took a deep breath.

He had deliberately cultivated the habit, using it as a kind of psychological suggestion. At first, he had simply told himself that deep breaths could calm him down. Now, they really could.

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

People really did change without realizing it, Karyl thought.

He pushed open the window and leaped silently from the second floor. His boots made a faint sound when they touched the road. A height he once had to handle carefully no longer required him to brace for impact. His muscles and bones were far tougher than before.

And they seemed to be getting stronger.

Karyl pressed his lips together, quickly left the spot, and vanished into the night.

He didn't know whether this was a good thing or a bad one, but he could say with certainty that he didn't like the feeling. He would rather have his old body back, the one that left him aching for half a day every time he used his strength.

Half an hour later, he returned to Sanctuary.

Wraith was already waiting. He crouched at the edge of the building like an animal. Neon lights split the sky into broken shapes, and the gloomy spires stretched away in layer upon layer. The cold wind blew through, stirring Wraith's long hair.

His hair was very soft now.

Karyl emerged from the darkness, deliberately tapping the soles of his boots against the ground. The sound roused Wraith from his reverie. He turned, obvious surprise on his face.

"Karyl?"

"What's wrong?" Karyl asked with a smile.

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

"No."

"...But I didn't notice you coming back," Wraith said, bewildered. "How could that be?"

"I don't know, either."

Karyl smiled and shook his head. He didn't share his worries or his likes and dislikes with Wraith. There was no need. "Maybe we'll find the answer in time."

"But for now... Well, it's still early. Why don't you tell me about your patrol?"

He walked over and sat beside Wraith, in no hurry to eat the plate of nutrient paste left over. The smell of blood still lingered in his nostrils. He was a little hungry, but he didn't want to eat in this state.

A person had to have some standards.

Wraith nodded, then broke into a smile. For the first time, it looked so natural. It was only a faint smile, but it was enough to make Karyl smile with him.

"The workers are doing a little better than before," Wraith said happily. "The factories gave them time off before the Great Purge. And they didn't even cut their food rations."

That was only natural. After all, the Great Purge happened only once every twenty years.

The gangs could fight over territory all they wanted, but they weren't foolish enough to kill factory workers at a time like this. Otherwise, how would the factories operate afterward?

Giving the workers time off and letting them hide in a temporary safe zone like the Shantytown was the right call.

Absolutely the right call.

Karyl nodded without showing what he thought and listened attentively, without rushing to interrupt or offer his own opinion. He knew very well that Wraith always had plenty more to say at times like this.

"But the gangs aren't hanging around the streets anymore," Wraith said with a pout. "I didn't hear anything useful today. Oh, and Gargoyle No. 21!"

He looked at Karyl. The latter wasn't surprised and knew it was time to respond.

"What happened to it?" he asked gently.

"It was dismantled," Wraith said, his tone giving little away. "Along with that building."

"Did someone start fighting before the time came?"

"Probably. There were lots of signs of explosions at the scene. I saw some people collecting the bodies. Karyl, can I ask you something?"

"Of course."

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

"No."

"Then where?"

"Incineration plants, the black market, and doctors who can perform body modifications."

Karyl gave three answers, all carefully considered. He was always cautious when it came to Wraith's questions. "The butcher's isn't where they end up."

"But why?"

"Because in the gangs' eyes, they're all people," Karyl said. "And people don't eat people."

Wraith's eyes widened. "But—"

"—Yes," Karyl said with a smile. "Just what you thought. They don't consider commoners human, even though they were once commoners themselves."

"This way of thinking has been around on Nostramo for thousands of years. To a large extent, most boys are so eager to join the gangs because they want to become people."

Wraith listened intently, nodding now and then. The roles of speaker and listener had switched so suddenly, yet so naturally. The night sky hung low overhead as the two of them spoke quietly in the cold wind.

—It seemed like an ordinary night once again.

If only that beam of light had never descended.

Karyl jerked his head up. A voice sounded in his mind.

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

"My lord, I ask you once again to reconsider."

"I've thought about it many times already."

"But, Sigillite—"

"Please, Constantin," said the giant in golden armor. "I have to do this, or I won't be able to earn his trust."

"...You don't need the trust of a Psyker on some remote planet. Besides, the Sigillite says he's surrounded by suspicions."

"Everyone is surrounded by suspicions in Malcador's eyes," the giant said. "Sometimes he even tells me that I'm doing things wrong."

"But that Psyker really is suspicious, my lord."

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

"Rather than trust a Psyker I've never met who's bringing one of your sons with him, I'd rather trust the Sigillite and his judgment, which has never failed so far."

The giant sighed.

"Fine," he said. "Are you going to listen to my advice or not, Constantin?"

"...You are my lord. Of course I'm willing."

"Then please—both you and the others. I know someone's back there listening to me talk to your marshal. Let me go down alone with my sons."

The man called the marshal wore no helmet. His hair was cut very short, almost to the scalp, just a thin layer of stubble. He wasn't handsome, but he was convincing. A quiet strength lay in his face.

Constantin Valdor—that was his name.

"Well, Constantin?" his lord asked.

"...If this is an order from the Master of Mankind, the Emperor, we will obey."

The giant, who bore so exalted a title, sighed again. If his sons saw him like this, they would be astonished. A few of them might even glare at the marshal of the Adeptus Custodes with undisguised envy.

The marshal wouldn't care. He had never cared.

"Must you insist on this, Constantin Valdor?" his lord asked slowly.

"You're asking me to abandon my duty. You're asking us to abandon our duty. You're even going down to that filthy surface yourself to meet with a sordid Psyker."

Constantin raised his head and said firmly, "So yes. You must give the order."

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

For the first time, he acted in a way befitting his title.

"I will go down to the surface with my sons. None of you are to follow. Set all the weapons aboard my ship to stand down, and keep the Astartes and the army where they belong."

"Anything else, my lord?" the reluctant marshal asked dutifully.

"No," The Emperor said with a faint smile. "I've always liked you this way."

"..."

Without a word, the marshal raised his hands in salute, then left in his armor. Behind him, his lord slowly pushed open the door, his expression already changed.

+Get ready.+

He spoke to the other four minds in his head. +We leave at once.+