Whether It Was Worth It (4k)

Kael could taste a subtle, peculiar scent that belonged only to blood.

It flowed through the scentless air and eventually fell into his "net," telling him everything he needed to know. So he knew that someone was bleeding four hundred and fifty meters away.

The net.

He had discovered it tonight and begun putting it to use.

Ever since returning from the Veil, his body had grown stronger by the day. But the changes weren't limited to sheer strength and agility. There had been subtler ones, too.

Like his senses.

Each one was already keen enough on its own. Combined, they were like a vast net that could wrap his prey up tight. That was where the somewhat eerie name "the net" came from.

He turned around. The soft lights still did their work quietly along the streets of the Upper Hive, as they always had.

They had been here for a long time, yet remained in good condition. That was partly because they had been made from sturdy materials, and partly because some people were always maintaining them.

Slaves, Kael thought.

A terrible chill began to spread through his mouth.

In the past, this work had usually required him to pay attention to countless details. He would watch every corner, every detail, and his own behavior.

He would avoid taking pleasure in the killing, making it a job that required efficiency—only then could he teach the Night Haunter what killing truly meant.

Killing had never been the goal.

Kael took another deep breath. The "net" began to work again.

Then he started running.

His four-meter-plus frame raced low through the darkness of the Upper Hive like a ghost. His steps were swift, yet not a single paving stone shifted. Only the faintest sounds, almost impossible to notice, followed him.

His bones and muscles unleashed even greater strength as he moved, and that strength in turn urged them to evolve.

—What am I now, exactly?

A thought flashed through his mind. Kael narrowed his eyes and let it sink into the deepest part of his heart.

After a leap, he landed atop a spire.

Two air purifiers hummed quietly at the top. They must have been newly installed; otherwise, there was no explaining their gleaming metal surfaces.

Kael walked past them and looked down, his gaze locking precisely onto a panicked man sprinting away.

This was the second time he had seen that posture.

The last time, the man had run like this through Nostramo's endless night. And this time, aside from running a little faster, he had barely changed at all.

At the thought, Kael couldn't help smiling.

"Does this count as getting them to break away from that corrupt life and start exercising?"

He spoke to himself. His hissing voice spread through the cold air, then gradually faded away.

Amid the hum of the air purifiers, he leaped silently from the spire. Without bending his knees or waist, he landed in front of the man like a shadow streaking past at high speed. Then he reached out and dragged him into the darkness.

A panicked scream rang out.

Then came the pleas—broken, incoherent words mixed with the sound of his reason shattering completely. Kael watched him patiently. He had no intention of torturing him. There was no point.

He had lost control twice already.

There wouldn't be a third time.

Besides, if he wanted to know something, the man would speak up on his own. He would even tell him exactly how many people he had eaten.

"Shh."

Kael spoke softly. "There's no point struggling. You knew I'd come for you, didn't you?"

"You're just a legend."

The man sobbed, utterly broken. "You shouldn't exist! You're just a monster the lower-class commoners made up!"

Kael laughed.

"I made your family disappear tonight, and you still think I'm just a monster from some legend?"

He gently let go, allowing the man to fall to the ground. His legs gave way, and he crumpled there, too terrified even to run.

"Fine."

Looking at him, Kael sighed. He crouched down and gripped the neck of the broken man before him.

There was no need to talk anymore.

With a sharp crack, his work for the night was finally done. But Kael didn't leave the corpse in the dimly lit street. He took it with him, leaped back onto the spire, and bounded from building to spire and back again.

Nostraman architecture wasn't merely gloomy. Religious symbolism was everywhere, too. Who had started the style in the first place was anyone's guess, but churches were scattered all over the Upper Hive of Quintus.

—Of course, they didn't worship the same god.

Eight minutes later, he stopped atop a church.

This was the largest church in Quintus's Upper Hive. It was nothing like the buildings in the Underhive, their walls eaten away by acid rain. The church was imposing and lofty, magnificent even from the side, and clearly maintained on a regular basis.

The nobles of every rank in Quintus came to pray in this church on a certain day each month—though, naturally, a noble's prayers were rather different.

It was less a prayer than a courtly ball laced with exchanges of favors.

Under the gaze of a faceless idol, the noble men and women would go naked, choosing sacrificial lambs in an embrace of blood.

And then—

Kael narrowed his eyes and cut off the thought, unwilling to pursue it any further. He lowered his head and gazed into the night.

Fifteen marble statues were arranged neatly in a hollowed-out space beneath his feet. The suffering women, surrounded by thorns and draped in gauzy veils, raised crying infants above their heads. Mist obscured their faces, and condensed droplets slid down their marble skin.

Kael glanced at them and shook his head.

Naturally born infants were rare on Nostramo now.

After watching for a moment, he leaped down from the church's roof and began dismembering the corpse on the platform at the top of the long flight of several hundred steps.

This wasn't desecration, revenge, or a way to relieve boredom. It was part of his job.

Kael saw the matter clearly. He wasn't doing this out of malice or excitement. He did it because he needed to spread fear further.

A verbal warning could never threaten the nobles as much as direct action could.

He reached out and, like a wraith, sliced through soft skin with his fingernails. Blood trickled out.

Kael frowned, disgusted by the feel of flesh and blood.

He sorely missed the days when he could still hold a knife.

But he could never go back to the past.

He couldn't simply be "Kael Lohars," a vengeful spirit haunting the night.

The authority granted by that pact had made him realize that, just like the Emperor, he needed a mask. And this giant's body suited the purpose perfectly.

Konrad Curze had many brothers he had yet to meet. If Konrad Curze had to meet them one by one, Kael was certain he wouldn't escape notice.

For a long time to come, he would have to accompany Konrad Curze on this task.

So this appearance could solve a lot of problems—at least the unnecessary ones, the sort that fell under the same category as "Lorgar Aurelian."

Three minutes later, he finished his work and stood up, his hands covered in blood. With a few leaps, he left the church.

Now, all he needed was for time to keep moving.

Returning to Sanctuary for the third time that day, Kael realized that the Wraith's absence was already starting to feel familiar.

He smiled with mixed feelings, then sighed in some frustration.

"Is this some kind of social call?"

He spoke toward the darkness behind Sanctuary. "You keep coming one after another, and you even choose the same spot to wait."

At that, Ferrus Manus expressionlessly took one step to the left.

He knew who the previous visitor had been.

"You're still at it," Ferrus said, his tone certain. "Are you fascinated by this bloody life?"

"Of course not."

Kael shook his head and opened Sanctuary's new door in front of Ferrus. It had acquired an almost terrifying weight.

Rogal Dorn had ripped the entire casing off the Old Water Purifier and reinforced the door with it. The gaps had been filled, and the weak points in its structure corrected.

It was now a perfectly serviceable door.

Kael went inside and brought out a chair. Like the door, it had been transformed. The broken wooden chair he'd salvaged from a pile of garbage had become a massive armchair.

Twisted metal and wood came together to form its four legs.

They were all exactly the same length, not a fraction off. The sunken metal surface made the seat. Its back was sturdy and solid, and several gears salvaged from inside the water purifier glinted on the sides of the long metal armrests.

"Dorn's handiwork," Ferrus said in a low voice. "He's still as skilled as ever."

"I don't know what his previous work was like, but judging by these two precious handcrafted pieces, he's clearly a master craftsman. Also, if you don't mind, I'd like to sit down and talk with you."

Kael smiled faintly. He dragged the chair over and set it on the ground, but didn't sit down right away.

"I don't mind," Ferrus Manus said calmly. "A person deserves rest after working."

Kael raised his brows in surprise, sat down, and asked, "You're calling what I'm doing work?"

"At least, from your attitude, it's no different from a job. And from my point of view, clearing out the scum who oppress others is a job, too."

At last, Ferrus Manus showed some emotion. Disgust crossed his stern face, and his brows drew together.

"I can't stand it," he said coldly. "Most of the people here deserve to die."

"Yes," Kael replied, leaning back in his chair. "They do."

"."

After that brief display of emotion, Ferrus Manus returned to his usual silence. Half a minute later, he spoke again.

"Konrad Curze's lesson today was very successful."

Kael laughed. "Did you come here just to tell me that?"

"No. There's something else—the Emperor's Dream carried not only the Adeptus Custodes and the Auxilia. We also brought a small number of warriors from our respective Legions."

Ferrus looked at him with a grave gaze.

"So, Kael Lohars, if you need it, my Legion, the Iron Hands, will descend from orbit to help you establish a new order."

"I'm already doing that, Ferrus Manus."

"But not very efficiently."

Kael sighed. He knew what the giant meant.

He was offering help and support: military forces far stronger than the private armies of all Nostramo's nobles combined, to reshape the world into a new order.

It would be good, of course, and a hundred times faster than what Kael was doing now. But it wasn't what he wanted, nor what the Night Haunter or Konrad Curze wanted.

"Efficiency doesn't always mean everything. I hate inefficiency, too, but some things have to be done slowly, Ferrus Manus."

"The Eighth Legion will arrive soon," Ferrus said expressionlessly. "So unless you can completely change this planet within two weeks, the new order is coming sooner or later."

He paused, then shook his head.

"I heard Konrad Curze describe your plan to kindle a 'flame.' You want the people here to wake from their long darkness. It's noble, but I don't think you can succeed."

"Is that so?"

"Yes," Ferrus Manus said.

The giant frowned again, but this time, it looked a little different.

"These people have grown numb. Before you arrived, I went to the Shantytown. The workers' living conditions were worse than those of some beasts, yet they simply endured it. They never resisted."

"That was when I realized they had probably forgotten what resistance meant entirely. Even their children were the same."

"No one thinks it's wrong to join a gang, murder, or eat people. Their parents even teach them to take part in gang auditions. This world is completely sick, Kael Lohars. So I respect your desire to save it, but I absolutely don't agree with it."

"You're right," Kael said calmly.

A flash of surprise crossed Ferrus's face.

"What?" Kael smiled and shook his head. "You thought I'd argue with you?"

"...Yes."

"I'm not going to argue against something true. Everything you said is right, Ferrus Manus. Nostramo isn't worth saving. It would be better to burn it. Everyone should be executed, and new people sent here to settle the planet."

"But."

Kael burst out laughing.

"Is any of it worth it?" he asked with a laugh.

Ferrus Manus found himself at a loss for words for the first time.

He turned around in silence.

"Then, good luck," he said. "I admire your resolve."

It wasn't my resolve, Ferrus Manus.

Kael closed his eyes.

It wasn't my resolve.

Seriously, is there anyone who doesn't eat sweet rice dumplings?

I don't.

Oh, I don't eat meat ones either. (laughs)