Worth It or Not

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

It drifted through the odorless air, eventually settling into his "capture net" and telling him everything he needed to know. Thus, he knew that four hundred and fifty meters away, someone was bleeding.

The capture net.

He had discovered it tonight and begun to utilize it.

Since returning from The Veil, his body had been growing stronger every day, but it was not merely strength and agility that were changing; there were more subtle aspects as well.

For instance, his sensory perception.

Each sense was sharp enough on its own, but now, combined, they acted like a massive web capable of firmly ensnaring his prey. This was the origin of the somewhat eerie name, "capture net."

He turned around; the soft light sources continued their work quietly along the streets of the Upper Hive, just as they always had.

They had been here for a long time, yet they remained in good condition. Aside from the durability of the materials used to craft them, it was also because there were always people maintaining them.

Servants, Karyl thought.

A terrifying chill began to permeate his mouth.

In the past, this work usually required him to pay attention to many details. He would note every corner, every nuance, and his own actions.

He would avoid the pleasure found in slaughter, turning the act into a task of efficiency—only in this way could he let Night Haunter understand the true meaning of killing.

Killing was never the goal.

Karyl took another deep breath, and the "capture net" began to function once more.

Then, he started to run.

His massive, four-meter-tall frame sprinted across the darkness of the Upper Hive like a Ghost, his footsteps swift yet causing not a single paving stone to shift; only a sound so faint it was nearly imperceptible emerged.

His bones and muscles erupted with greater power under such exertion, and the power itself urged them to evolve.

What exactly am I now?

A thought flashed by, and Karyl narrowed his eyes, letting it vanish into the deepest recesses of his heart.

After a single leap, he reached the top of a spire.

Two Air Purifiers were working quietly at the summit; they must have been newly installed, otherwise, there would be no explanation for their pristine metal surfaces.

Karyl walked past them and looked down, his gaze locking precisely onto a man running in a panic.

This was the second time he had seen this posture.

Last time, this man had been running just like this through the endless night of Nostramo. And this time, aside from running a bit faster, he had not changed at all.

Thinking of this, Karyl couldn't help but smile.

"Does this count as urging them to jump out of that corrupt life and start exercising?"

He muttered to himself, his hissing voice permeating the cold air before gradually dissipating into nothingness.

Amidst the hum of the Air Purifiers, he leaped silently from the top of the spire. Without bending his knees or stooping, he landed in front of the man like a Shadow sweeping past, then reached out and dragged him into the darkness.

A panicked, shrill scream rang out.

Then came the pleas—broken, incoherent words mixed with the sound of a mind shattering completely. Karyl observed him patiently, not intending to torture him; that would be meaningless.

He had lost control twice already.

There would not be a third time.

Moreover, if he wanted to know something, the man would speak for himself. He would even clearly detail how many people he had eaten.

"Shh."

Karyl said softly. "No need to struggle. You knew I would come for you, didn't you?"

"You're just a legend."

The man sobbed, having completely broken down. "You shouldn't exist! You're just a monster woven by the commoners in the lower levels!"

Karyl laughed.

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

He gently released his grip, letting the man fall to the ground. The latter collapsed, his legs too weak to even attempt an escape, fear permeating the air.

"Fine."

Staring at him, Karyl sighed. He crouched down and gripped the neck of the man with the shattered mind.

There was no longer any need for conversation.

With a crisp snap, his work for the night was thoroughly finished. But Karyl did not leave the corpse on the dim street; he carried it, jumped back onto the spire, and bounded back and forth between the buildings and the spires.

The architectural style of Nostramo was not merely gloomy; religious metaphors were everywhere to be seen. It was unclear who had initiated this style, but in any case, in the Upper Hive of Quintus, churches were everywhere.

Of course, they do not worship a god.

Eight minutes later, he stopped at the top of a church.

This was the largest church in the Upper Hive of Quintus. It was vastly different from the buildings in the Underhive corroded by acid rain; the structure was majestic and towering, and even its side profile was exquisitely crafted, clearly having been maintained frequently.

Nobles of all ranks across Quintus would gather in this cathedral to pray on a certain day of the month—though, naturally, the prayers of the nobility were of a different sort.

It was less of a prayer and more of a courtly ball interspersed with exchanges of interest.

Under the gaze of statues with blurred features, noble men and women would strip bare to select their sacrificial lambs within the embrace of blood.

And then.

Kael narrowed his eyes, cutting off his train of thought, unwilling to continue. He lowered his head and began to stare into the night.

Fifteen marble statues were laid out flat on a hollowed-out layer beneath his feet. The suffering women, surrounded by thorns, were draped in thin veils, their hands held high to cradle weeping infants. Their faces were shrouded in mist, and condensed water droplets slid down their marble skin.

Kael glanced at them and shook his head.

Naturally born infants were already a rarity on Nostramo.

After a brief observation, he leaped off the top of the cathedral and began to dismember the corpses on the platform atop the hundreds of long steps.

This was not desecration, venting, or a way to pass the time; it was a part of his work.

Kael saw this matter very clearly. He did not perform it with malice or excitement; he did it simply because he needed to expand the reach of fear.

Verbal warnings, after all, were never as threatening to the nobles as direct action.

Extending his fingers, he used his nails to shred the soft skin like a Wraith, blood gurgling out.

Kael frowned, feeling an incomparable disgust at the sensation of flesh and blood.

Now, he missed the days when he could still wield a blade.

However, he could no longer return to the past.

He could not simply be "Kael Lohars," a malevolent spirit acting in the shadows.

The authority brought by that covenant made Kael realize that, just like The Emperor, he too needed a mask. And this giant body was just right.

Konrad Curze had many brothers he had yet to meet, and if Konrad Curze were to meet them one by one, Kael was certain he could not escape it.

For a long time to come, he would have to accompany Konrad Curze in this endeavor.

Therefore, this appearance could solve many things—at least, it could resolve many unnecessary matters in the vein of "Lorgar Aurelian."

Three minutes later, he finished his work, stood up with blood-stained hands, and left the cathedral in a few bounds.

Now, he only needed time to keep moving forward.

Returning to the Sanctuary for the third time that day, Kael found that he had become somewhat accustomed to the absence of the Wraith.

He gave a complex smile, then sighed with considerable distress.

"Is this some kind of event?"

Facing the darkness behind the Sanctuary, Kael asked, "You all come one after another, even choosing the same spot to wait."

Hearing this, Ferrus Manus stepped to the left, expressionless.

He knew who the previous visitor had been.

"You are still at it."

Ferrus said, his tone certain. "Does this bloody life fascinate you so much?"

"Of course not."

Kael shook his head and opened the new door of the Sanctuary in front of Ferrus—a door that now possessed a terrifying, heavy weight.

The entire casing of the Old Water Purifier had been torn off by Rogal Dorn and reinforced onto it. The gaps were filled, and the fragile structure had been corrected.

It was now a very qualified door.

Kael walked inside and took out a chair. Like the door, it had been altered; it had transformed from a piece of junk picked up from a scrap heap into a massive armchair.

Twisted metal and wood were joined together to form its four legs.

They were perfectly equal in length, without the slightest discrepancy. A sunken metal concave formed the seat, the backrest was sturdy and solid, and several gears salvaged from the interior of the purifier glinted on the sides of the long metal armrests.

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

"I don't know how his previous works turned out, but judging by these two precious artisanal products, he is clearly a master craftsman—also, if you don't mind, I would like to sit down and talk with you."

Kael smiled slightly. He dragged the chair and placed it on the floor, though he did not sit down immediately.

"I don't mind," Ferrus Manus said calmly. "A man deserves rest after his work."

Kael raised an eyebrow in surprise. He sat down and asked, "You call what I'm doing 'work'?"

"At least, from your attitude, it is indeed no different from a job. And from my personal perspective, clearing away these dregs that oppress others is indeed just a job."

Finally—Ferrus Manus revealed a flicker of emotional fluctuation. A look of disgust appeared on his stern face, and his brows furrowed.

"I cannot stand it at all," he said coldly. "Most of the people here deserve to die."

"Yes," Kael replied, leaning back in his chair. "Indeed."

"."

After the brief emotional reaction, Ferrus Manus returned to his habitual silence. Half a minute later, he spoke again.

"Konrad Curze's lesson today was a great success."

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

"No, there is another matter—The Emperor's Dream does not only carry Adeptus Custodes and Auxilia; we have also brought a small number of warriors from our respective legions."

Ferrus slowly cast a solemn gaze toward him.

"Therefore, Kael Lohars, if you require it, my legion, the Iron Hands, will descend from orbit to assist you in establishing a new order."

"I am already doing that, Ferrus Manus."

"But the efficiency is not high."

Kael sighed. He knew what the giant meant.

To offer help and a hand, using military force far exceeding all the private armies of the Nostramo nobility to reshape a new order.

Doing so would certainly be fine, and the efficiency would be a hundred times faster than it is now, but that is not what he wants, nor is it what the Night Haunter or Konrad Curze wants.

"Efficiency does not always represent everything—I, too, loathe low efficiency, but some things must be done slowly, Ferrus Manus."

"The Eighth Legion will arrive soon," Ferrus said expressionlessly. "Therefore, unless you can completely change this planet within two weeks, the arrival of this new order is only a matter of time."

He paused for a moment and shook his head.

"I have heard Konrad Curze speak of your desire to ignite a 'flame.' You want the people here to wake up from their long darkness. Doing so is noble, but I do not believe you will succeed."

"Is that so?"

"Yes," Ferrus Manus said.

The giant frowned again—but this time, it seemed somewhat different.

"These people have become numb. Before you arrived, I went to the shantytown to take a look. The living conditions of those workers are not even as good as those of some beasts. Yet they simply endure, never resisting."

"Thus, I knew that they have likely completely forgotten the meaning of resistance. And even their children are the same."

"No one thinks that joining a gang to murder and cannibalize is wrong; even their parents teach them to participate in gang initiations. This world is completely sick, Kael Lohars. Therefore, I admire your heart to save it, but I do not agree with it at all."

"You are right," Kael said calmly.

A flash of astonishment crossed Ferrus's face.

"What?" Kael smiled and shook his head. "Did you think I would refute you?"

"...Yes."

"I will not refute a correct thing—everything you said is right, Ferrus Manus. Nostramo is indeed not worth saving. But I have never used 'worth' to measure a thing."

Kael tilted his head back, letting the cold wind blow past. It could no longer make him feel cold, but he narrowed his eyes as he always did.

"Whether it is worth it or not is a cold calculation and consideration, Ferrus Manus."

"It is an instinct naturally evolved by humans. Aside from the unconditional devotion of parents, even between brothers and lovers, such things exist. So I never use it to think; I exclude it."

"Yes, Nostramo is not worth saving; it should be burned instead. Everyone should be executed, and then new humans should be sent to settle here."

"But."

Kael laughed out loud.

"Is all of this worth it?" he asked with a smile.

Ferrus Manus found that, for the first time, he had nothing to say.

In silence, he turned around.

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

That is not my resolve, Ferrus Manus.

Kael closed his eyes.

That is not my resolve.

There can't really be anyone who doesn't eat sweet zongzi, right?

I don't eat them.

Oh, I don't eat meat zongzi either. (Joy)