The Failed Interrogation

Kael returned to his Sanctuary covered in blood. Two people were already waiting for him in the dark room.

Wraith crouched in a corner, nonchalantly picking at his nails. His black hair hung messily over his forehead, his face was smeared with blood, and bits of flesh even clung to him.

At the sight of him, Kael knew that he had probably torn some people apart with his bare hands again.

As for the other person...

Kael looked at her. The woman was unconscious, and her metal right arm was gone, severed at the shoulder. Judging by the ragged wound, Wraith had probably ripped it off by force.

"Is he dead?" Wraith suddenly asked.

"Dead," Kael said. "Also, could you step outside for a while, Wraith?"

"Why?"

"You stink, Wraith. That's why. I thought we'd already agreed that you needed to pay attention to your personal hygiene."

Wraith frowned. "Aren't you covered in blood, too?"

"Don't get me wrong, Wraith."

Kael removed his blood-soaked cloak with an insincere smile and tossed it outside. Then he cheerfully dragged over the rickety chair and sat down.

"Any other questions?"

"..."

Wraith said nothing more and turned to walk out the door. His hearing let him clearly make out what was happening inside the room from far away, so his presence there really didn't matter.

Still, he didn't understand why Kael insisted on making him leave. Perhaps one day he would.

The rickety door creaked shut, and the smile vanished from Kael's face in an instant. His features relaxed, and his pale face went still.

"You should wake up," Kael said. "Pretending to be asleep isn't a good choice."

The woman slowly opened her eyes. She was composed, and seemed to understand her current situation clearly.

Unfortunately, not clearly enough.

"So the Vengeful Spirit has an accomplice," the woman said slowly. "But you don't know what your accomplice has done, do you?"

"He killed some people who deserved it."

"He tore my car apart in front of everyone. He tore my bodyguards apart. And before I was forced to leave, I told those lowly bastards my name. The Skolevok Family will soon learn what happened here."

A vicious grin slowly spread across the woman's face, malice churning beneath it, entirely undisguised. She even described her abduction as being "forced to leave."

How interesting.

A smile returned to Kael's face.

"Is that so? Then which family do you belong to? Which Earl?"

"You know quite a lot," the woman said with a sneer. Kael's words seemed to confirm something for her.

She was covered in blood, sitting miserably on the filthy floor, yet acted as though she were the one in control.

Kael's smile grew more pronounced. He said nothing, only breathing slowly, as if working himself up to something.

The woman mistook this sign of impending destruction for something else.

"If you don't want to be tortured for years, you'd better let me go. You can't escape, Vengeful Spirit."

She stared at Kael, seated in the chair, her voice heavy with scorn as she emphasized his ridiculous title.

"I don't know who's behind you. I don't know who gave you technical support, or even gave you an iron puppet with rudimentary intelligence."

At this, she shrieked.

"But the Skolevok Family will come for you! Your only chance to survive is to let me leave this filthy hellhole!"

Kael finally let out a low laugh.

"An iron puppet. Hahahahahaha."

His laughter echoed through the dark room. "You actually think he's one of those killing machines made by the artificers."

"Isn't he? Don't try to fool me!"

"You're very amusing, madam," Kael said softly. "But I hate amusement."

He stood up and kicked the woman without hesitation. He controlled his strength just right, striking her in the abdomen with enough force to make her feel searing pain but not enough to rob her of the ability to speak.

For nobles, this was nothing.

They had a deeply rooted tradition of throwing their growing children into the Underhive, where gangs and commoners would hunt them down. Those who survived could claim a title within the family.

The woman spat out a mouthful of blood and struggled to her feet. Her only remaining hand, her left, slammed angrily against the ground. "I'll tear your skin off for that! You worthless piece of filth! What do you think you are?!"

Kael didn't answer. He kicked her again, this time a little harder. It was enough to injure and humiliate her without sending her adrenaline soaring to its peak.

He needed her to feel fear, not let her rage blot it out.

Kael controlled his strength with precision, so it was easy for him to do just that. It was one of the many reasons he had survived on Nostramo until now.

The woman flew backward and crashed into the spot where Wraith liked to sit. Two of her ribs broke, and several of her teeth fell out.

After a cry of pain, she scrambled to her feet, burning with the resentment of someone who had been humiliated, and charged at Kael without hesitation. She even tried to curse him, though her words came out as little more than muffled sobs.

A pale hand shot out of the darkness, stopping her reckless charge and closing around her throat. When she felt that very real strength, fear finally appeared on her face.

At last, she realized that the so-called Vengeful Spirit, who had been killing at will in the lower levels of the Hive City for the past year and a half, wasn't what they had assumed.

He wasn't a noble's private soldier, sent out before the Great Purge began, nor was he a planted spy.

He didn't care in the slightest about the "rules of the game" that nobles knew all too well and followed without exception!

Holding her by the throat, Kael carried her out of the room. At some point, Wraith had leaped onto the roof of the Sanctuary and crouched there like a wild animal, silently watching everything below.

And tonight, Nostramo was still raining.

The night was endless, but neon lights that gangs used to mark their territory pierced the darkness, casting eerie colors across the sky. Acidic, foul-smelling rain poured down, growing ever heavier.

In the downpour, Kael spoke slowly.

"I imagine you're racking your brains right now, wondering who supports me, and how I dare act so recklessly."

The woman's only remaining hand struggled to slap at his right hand, trying to make him let go. Between the lack of oxygen and being held off the ground, she no longer had the strength to fight back.

"But I have no one backing me," Kael said. "No noble supports me. No family stands behind me. Hard to believe, isn't it?"

He smiled and let go. The woman crumpled to the ground, clutching her throat as she gulped in breath after breath, interrupted by violent coughing. Kael didn't even look at her. He simply raised his arms and enjoyed the downpour washing over him.

A searing pain came from his exposed skin, but he didn't care.

He was used to it.

He crouched down.

"Let me tell you something, madam."

Kael gazed into her eyes and spoke softly. "Not everything in this world has to run according to your rules."

"For hundreds and thousands of years, Nostramo has lived by your rules. The people of the Underhive have scraped by like dogs, gnawing at one another's corpses in the dark. Gangs carve up the territory and rule in your place, collecting your taxes and squeezing the common folk."

"And what about you? You need only sit in your palaces and indulge yourselves. You've invented all sorts of ways to enjoy your depraved lives."

Kael bared his teeth in a grin, his white teeth exposed to the damp air.

"Honestly, I don't like that one bit. I really don't."

He raised his right hand, showing the tattoo on his wrist to the woman. Her eyes widened, and she immediately blurted out a name. "Lohars!"

"Correct."

Kael chuckled and nodded. He rose to his feet, and a graceful courtly bow followed. His voice deepened.

"Kael Lohars, the last of House Lohars, greets you, madam."

The woman let out a terrified scream. She scrambled backward on all fours, trying to escape. But Kael was already pouncing on her with a feral grin.

Flesh and blood flew everywhere.

"I thought you were going to interrogate her."

"Mm."

"But you didn't seem to get her to say anything."

"Oh, really?"

"You wouldn't let me kill her, but then you killed her yourself."

"...Could you let me have some peace and quiet, Wraith?"

Kael turned impatiently and glared at Wraith, seated in the darkness. "I'm trying to figure out what to do next!"

"Oh."

Silence.

Kael closed his eyes, but in the end he couldn't stop himself from pursing his lips. He turned back again and asked, "Were you curious about what that woman said?"

"She said your surname, and she seemed terrified," Wraith said with a nod. "Why? Did she know you?"

"No. She didn't know me, but she recognized this tattoo."

Kael raised his right hand and showed the tattoo to Wraith.

"A knife dripping with blood?" Wraith asked, puzzled. "What does that symbol mean?"

"It represents a family."

Kael gave a mocking smile. "A family that specialized in executions. Their methods were so cruel that even nobles who enjoyed being tortured couldn't stand them. That's why she was afraid."

"The previous and last Earl of that family was named Gaius Lohars, also known as the Beheading Count. He was a cruel executioner, devoid of morality and humanity, who loved to kill."

"As for the Lohars Family, its founder was a lucky bastard. Five hundred and thirty-one years ago, he clawed his way up from the bottom. During the nobles' game of the Great Purge, he went from being a filthy gang dog to one of the oppressors."

"So you're a noble, too?" Wraith asked.

"No." Kael shook his head. "Don't lump me together with them, Wraith."

"House Lohars broke the rules during the Great Purge twenty years ago. Gaius Lohars tried to murder a lord and take his territory. A traitor within the family exposed him, and the entire family was put to death."

"Did they all die?"

"Yes. They all died."

"But..."

"But what?"

"But you didn't die."

"That's right." Kael smiled faintly. "I was a traitor, so I survived."

Wraith's brow furrowed even more, rather than relaxing after hearing the explanation. "But your age doesn't add up. You were only a child twenty years ago. How could you have informed on them?"

"A child born in sin, born from the blood of victims, and raised on their flesh and blood."

Kael gently corrected Wraith. "The traitor was someone else, and I—"

He shook his head.

"I betrayed the entire damned nobility," he said. "Believe it or not, that's up to you, Wraith. As for the truth... heh."

He chuckled softly. "The truth had long since vanished on the wind."