Away from the darkness.
I must... away from the darkness.
But why? The darkness protected me.
It hurts.
Am I bleeding?
Jumbled, chaotic thoughts raced through his head. The Haunter did not know if he was still alive; he felt only pain and one other sensation he did not want to admit to himself.
He wanted to return to the darkness, to the bottom of that mine. It was damp and warm there; there were rats for food and filth in which to hide.
He did not want to endure these torments... he should not have been treated this way.
But some voice whispered to him, urging him to abandon that thought.
"Out of the darkness, Haunter; this is not the fate you deserve," it said.
Fate?
This unfamiliar word burst into his already confused thoughts, making them even more insane.
In the next moment, countless visions crashed upon him. They writhed and bared their teeth, clutching at him with sharp claws, proclaiming their truth.
"You have no choice, child, no choice!"
They roared, their voices thundering like bells, like midnight thunder.
"Foolish dreams! The predetermined cannot be changed; you must submit! You are destined to wallow in blood, to cover yourself in ill fame; only thus can you become..."
Become who?
The Haunter looked at the distorted images in confusion when suddenly he was blinded by light.
...
"Awake?"
The Haunter sat up abruptly and began to gasp for air greedily. Without thinking, he jumped up and, obeying his sense of smell, crawled on all fours into the corner most familiar to him.
Only after shivering for about ten seconds did he realize who had called out to him.
And where he was.
Kariel sat in the darkness, looking at him dispassionately.
"Are you leaning against the wall, Haunter?"
"...What?"
"I am asking, are you leaning against the wall?"
"Yes," the Haunter answered in a trembling voice. "I am leaning against the wall."
His shoulders trembled continuously. The terror caused by the visions had not yet receded. He did not understand what it had been, and he did not want to understand. He only wanted to forget.
"Come here," Kariel said. "Do not lean against the wall; it is bad for your wounds."
"No, I don't want to..."
The Haunter instinctively wanted to refuse. He did not wish to leave this corner. Here he was as cozy as at the bottom of the mine.
But all instincts evaporated the moment he saw Kariel's eyes.
The neon light filtering through the holes in the dilapidated door shattered into many irregular, jagged glints. They fell on half of Kariel's face, making his pale features look like a gruesome painting.
His eyes were glowing.
The Haunter's trembling ceased.
"Come here, Haunter," Kariel repeated quietly. "Do not lean against the wall."
This time, the Haunter obeyed.
Hunched over, he cautiously stepped out of the corner. The pain in his back prevented him from walking straight; something sticky was flowing down his spine.
"Blood, my blood," the Haunter thought.
He clenched his lips. He was in great pain.
"You have serious wounds," Kariel tilted his head to the side, looking a bit distracted. "You were hit by a harpoon gun. That thing is used for hunting. You were lucky."
"Hunting?"
"Yes. Outside the city, there are many who were cast out for non-payment. They barely survived, but a price had to be paid—they turned into beasts."
"And then the aristocrats came up with a new entertainment. Gangsters like to participate in it too, but not together with the aristocrats. They call it 'following the fashion.' Amusing, isn't it?"
He laughed, but there was not a shadow of mirth in his eyes.
"It is not amusing," the Haunter said quietly. "And what is a harpoon gun?"
"It is a terrible thing, Haunter," Kariel shook his head with a smirk.
"Upon impact, it explodes; the tip shatters into a dozen fragments, and each one has cruel barbs. It digs into the flesh and bones of the victim, penetrating as deeply as possible. So your back is a gruesome sight right now."
"Will I die?" the Haunter asked soundlessly. He remained silent, but his facial expression was more eloquent than any words.
"No, you won't die," Kariel replied. "In fact, in a few hours at most, your bleeding wounds will already begin to close, Haunter."
"..."
The Haunter did not answer, merely sat on the floor in silence. He looked depressed, and Kariel did not overlook this.
He was rarely wrong. Almost never.
"Are you upset?" Kariel asked.
The Haunter raised his head, glanced at him, and lowered it again.
"...That question... will I never get an answer to it?"
"Yes."
"...I forgot to close the window," the Haunter said with annoyance. "They... reacted so quickly."
"Trying to make excuses, Haunter?"
"..."
Kariel could not help but laugh seeing the Haunter's reaction, but there was little genuine joy in that laughter.
This laughter was more of a mockery of himself.
"You were shot with a weapon capable of tearing apart a grown man, you fell from a roof ten meters high, you were dragged along the ground..." he thought.
"Your flesh was torn by the power of three coupled motorcycles, and then you lost almost a bucket of blood under the acid rain."
"And you are still alive. Moreover, quite healthy."
"Your wounds will heal in a few hours."
"You are a terrible monster, Haunter, but you have a heart such as only humans possess."
"And what am I to do with you?"
The smile gradually faded from his face. Kariel fell silent, looking at the Haunter, and his face slowly became calm.
After a while, he spoke again.
"For a novice, you did not do poorly. You bypassed the guards and the sentries on the roof, opened the window without making a sound..."
"It took you less than a minute to kill those three leaders. All of this is very good."
"But do not look at me like that, Haunter," Kariel said calmly. "I am not praising you. You are no longer a novice."
The Haunter nodded dejectedly, agreeing with Kariel's words. He did not object because he knew—Kariel was right.
Kariel was always right.
He lowered his head again.
"Six months ago, you began this work. You are not a novice, Haunter. You have already killed many who deserved death, but you still have not mastered the most important thing in this business."
"You must always be cautious, Haunter. Remember my words: always maintain your caution."
"If killing the one before you leads to your exposure, do not do it. If the enemy is hiding, wait until he appears, and only then act. If you do not know what lurks in the darkness... do not enter it."
"But..."
"No 'buts,' Haunter," Kariel said softly. "Listen. If you do not understand, memorize. Sooner or later you will understand; you must understand... I have little time left to continue. You must learn everything."
The Haunter's eyes widened. For the first time, he looked truly caught off guard.
"What does that mean?" he asked quickly. "Why do you have no time? Are you leaving?"
"No, I am not leaving. I have no time because I will soon die," Kariel replied calmly.
"But you are perfectly healthy!"
The Haunter spoke excitedly:
"I see, I know much, Kariel—you will not die, I know this, just as I know how long I have already lived! And do you know how long you have lived?"
Kariel did not answer.
The Haunter's erratic speech made him smile again—a pale smile. Then he shifted the conversation to another topic.
"Do you know what a time bomb is, Haunter?"
"It is an amusing little thing. An ordinary bomb explodes a few seconds after activation. But a time bomb does not."
"A time is set on it manually, a ticking countdown... And when it reaches zero, it explodes."
The Haunter looked at him with extreme concern, waiting for the next words.
"And I... I have such a countdown," Kariel said. "There are two problems here. First: I do not know when it will end. I do not see exact figures, only a vague sensation."
"Second: I am much more dangerous than a time bomb, I feel it... and so do you, Haunter, remember? You said that the power I use is dangerous... yes, it truly is dangerous."
At these words, the Haunter bared his teeth angrily. His teeth were straight and white. His face, stained by acid rain and his own blood, was filthy. But Kariel saw the truth.
Beneath that filth, the Haunter was perfect.
Without a doubt, he was not human.
But now he was in a rage.
"You said that time bombs are set by people!" the Haunter roared. "A countdown? Who set a countdown for you? I will find him, I will kill him!"
A wave of anger overwhelmed him. Kariel squinted, feeling a distinct, terrifying threat.
The Haunter had no hostility toward him; in fact, his rage was directed toward protecting Kariel. But even the echoes of this rage made Kariel instinctively reach for his blade.
"Perfection, perfection, Haunter. You will surely be able to change this world."
"Calm down, Haunter," Kariel said with a smile. "No one set a countdown for me. In fact, if one is to look for the culprit, it can only be I myself."
"...What?"
To his question, Kariel did not answer—or rather, he explained, but in his own way.
"In this world, everything has its price, Haunter. Sometimes it is obvious, sometimes hidden."
"For example, the power I use. It is convenient, fast, so powerful that it does not obey the laws of reality. It can even summon a wandering soul from the depths of space..."
"And the price is usually associated with such things."
"It is changing me, Haunter," Kariel said softly, almost as if in a dream.
"I feel these gradual changes... And judging by my experience, I will have to pay a monstrous price for such immense power."
The Haunter looked at him with bewilderment, completely not understanding what he was talking about. However, it was even better that way. Kariel did not want to lay out the whole truth in half an hour.
Some things the Haunter had to understand through actions. He was already on guard against this world. But for a world like Nostramo, his vigilance was not enough.
He was still too naive.
He had to treat his enemies with absolute cruelty and, before striking, consider them the most terrible monsters on earth.
The attitude toward the world should depend on how the world treats you. If the world kisses you with pain, you are not obliged to answer it with a song.
But one should not burn the world to the ground either.
"Rest, Haunter."
Kariel stood up.
"Your first independent hunt was not a total failure, but you did not achieve success either. As for the answer to your question... I will think about it later."
"Where are you going?" the Haunter asked.
Kariel turned back with a crooked smirk:
"And where do you think? To return the motorcycles? The night on Nostramo never ends, Haunter, and your failed hunt obviously requires completion."
The Haunter watched him go in silence. For the first time, the dark corner ceased to be so cozy.