Limping, Carlil came to a door, and then opened it in the normal way, the creaking sound that made him frown.

Actually, to say that this thing is a door is a bit biased.

The door should be strong, and this door ...... If it hadn't been for a few planks nailed up to Caril, it wouldn't have been able to form a whole, and it wouldn't have even been able to shelter from the wind.

He walked inside, and the dark room was filled with a foul stench.

Carlil's brow began to furrow, and he spoke, speaking into the empty room, "I remember I said to keep it ventilated, right?" ”

"It's raining." In the unoccupied room, a soft, hissing voice suddenly sounded.

Nostramo is like that, softly and tactfully, hissing, like a poem. However, most of the people who speak of them are murderers.

"It's raining?"

Carlil repeated, raising an eyebrow with a look of contempt on his pale face. "Is that why you don't open the window?"

"Yes."

In the darkness, a tall figure slowly stood up. He poked his head out of the darkness, and the neon light from the doorway illuminated the pale face.

Carlil sneered, took off his cloak tiredly, threw it at his feet along with two knives, and then pulled over a chair and sat down in front of the door.

Nostramo's cold wind blew through the early morning, and he lowered his head, blood dripping down his right leg and spreading to the soles of his feet.

"You're hurt." The terrifyingly tall shadow said.

"yes, I'm hurt." Carlil shrugged. "Because the bastard has an acquired enhanced mechanical ...... in his hands."

The shadow came up to him, scrutinizing the wound.

"You need healing......" the shadow hissed. He broke the bone in your right leg. ”

"I know."

Carlil said wearily as he adjusted his sitting position so that he could lean back in the rotten chair he had picked up. Although this posture is not very good for his injured leg, it is more comfortable.

"So, why not treat it?" Shadow asked patiently. "If you can't handle it yourself, I can help you."

In the darkness, a pale and slender arm slowly poked out. The ends of the nails glow, making them look as dangerous as the blades of a knife.

And Carlil knew that they were much more dangerous than a blade.

"Thank you." He said calmly.

The arm was retracted, and the movement was swift, which was an interesting contrast to the slowness of the extension.

"Well, you might have your leg amputated."

Shadow said. "I haven't had a broken bone yet, I've only been shot. The bullets stuck in the flesh were so hard to deal with that I had to dig them out one by one. Laser guns are a bit more convenient...... Just burn the flesh. ”

As he spoke, his voice changed suddenly, from hissing to dreamy softness. “...... Moreover, the bullet sank into the flesh and it hurt. ”

"Of course it hurts when a bullet hits you."

Carlil laughed, and he couldn't help but feel ridiculous at the monster's innocence for a moment.

It's ridiculous. He thought. A monster that can tear people apart with a wave of his hand is so naïve.

"Will you hurt too?" Shadow asked.

Carlil glanced at him with an idiot-like look, and then laughed out loud: "Even you can hurt, but not me?" I'm just a mortal, ghost, and I'm not like you. ”

The shadow was silent for a longer period of time, apparently disagreeing.

Then, he walked out of the darkness. The rag-clad garment barely made up to look like a robe on him, his long dirty hair was scattered behind his head, and there were traces of blood on his pale skin.

Dressed in tattered clothes, his image was filthy, unusually tall, his skin was pale, and his eyes were completely black—the characteristics of a monster, which, when combined, made him look as terrifying as a ghost in a story.

Ordinary people only need to look at it to know that he does not belong to the normal world.

As a matter of fact...... Ordinary people should not think that he is human.

The ghost frowned and asked, "What's the difference?" We are all monsters. ”

"I'm only going to be a monster at certain times."

"You've killed one hundred and seventy-two people in the last month, every day, every night."

"Who taught you this phrase?"

"You."

“......”

Carlil sighed, having to compromise with the overly tall man he called a ghost.

"Listen, Spirit. I became a monster for a reason, I kill in this city because—"

"- Justice?" The ghost couldn't wait to interrupt him, with eagerness in his eyes, so asking.

"Nope." Carlil replied coldly. "Justice doesn't exist at all, ghost. Justice is the biggest lie in the world. ”

The ghost nodded in disappointment, and then pointed to Carlil's right leg. This time, Carlil couldn't afford to ignore it anymore.

Carlil raised his right hand, and his eyes, as dark as all Nostramos, suddenly lit up with a blue light.

The temperature dropped sharply, and the deep frost condensed on the chair legs. The wraith stared at them, following the direction of the frost spread, looking at Carlil's legs.

Bloodstains, wounds, and strange shapes of twisted bones on top of the skin...... In this moment, they were all gone.

"Hoo ......"

Carlil sighed deeply, deeply. His eyes returned to normal at this moment, and there was a calm in his dark eyes.

The ghost looked at him, and didn't speak for a moment. Silence lingered for a while before he spoke again: "You shouldn't rely too much on this power.

"If it helps us to do something, I'll keep using it."

"It's dangerous."

"How do you know?"

"I ......" the ghost didn't answer.

He didn't know how to explain it to Carlil—ghosts were born to know a lot of things, like instinct. He even knew a word to describe this talent.

Have innate knowledge.

"Is it as dangerous as anything else in the city?" Carlil didn't care about the ghost's hesitation. He stood up and asked.

He walked out of the room with a vigorous and vigorous gait, not the slightest sign that he had been injured enough to have his leg amputated half a minute earlier.

Outside the room was empty, with a cold wind blowing.

It's the top of a towering building, where Carlil built a small illegal structure a year and a half ago. The security personnel in charge of the inspection did not find out, and in fact, whether they existed or not was another matter.

And just like that, he had a little shelter.

And six months ago, the ghost came. Or rather, the Midnight Ghost.

A name that has so far only circulated in a small area in Quintus is far from being as good as the 'Vengeful Spirit'. After all, the vengeful spirit was killed in the city for a year and a half.

Every day, every night.

"There are gangs all over the place, twisted monsters everywhere. The nobles of the upper echelons of the nest capital only had to sit comfortably in their luxurious chairs to receive taxes from the dogs they raised. ”

"And the workers who sleep in the shantytowns, the poor people, they only have two roads. First, they died in the factory, were poor, often faced beatings and oppression, and even could not feed themselves. Second, join a gang and oppress others. ”

Carlil turned his head with a smirk, "Which one do you think most people would choose?" ”

The ghost didn't answer, he still stood in the doorway, and didn't come out. The darkness was thick behind him.

"There is no doubt that they will choose the second one. And those who didn't choose don't mean they don't want to, they just can't. Oppressing others requires a strong body, at least young. Otherwise, the gang won't even want you to ......"

Carlil didn't speak anymore, and he fell into deep thought abruptly.

A terrible flame more heart-burning than poison began to burn and spread over the pale, youthful face, forcing him to grit his teeth and furrow his brows.

The ghost didn't bother him.

It was a long time before the spirits joined the conversation again.

He asked in a soft, hissing voice, "Will killing solve everything?" ”

"I can't." Carlil replied without hesitation.

"Killing can only lead to more killing. If I purge a corrupt official, twenty of them will squeeze their place with their heads sharpened. If I kill a gang leader, there will be more than forty gangs to rob his territory. ”

"So, can we find another way?"

"We can't, Ghost." Carlil said, and then, he paused.

He turned his head, and his black hair was gently blown in the dirty wind of Nostramo: "...... Not right now. ”

"If you find it, please let me know." The Wraith said earnestly. "Nostramo is sick, I can see it, I want to make it better."

Again, Carlil laughed mockingly at his innocence. Only this time, after laughing, he nodded.

"Okay." So says Carlil Lohals.

He didn't even ask why, like he never asked why Midnight Ghost had so much power.

It's just that Karil Lohals doesn't know who he's making promises to.

-----------------

The priest of the Dormition Chapel died.

At six o'clock in the morning in the Quintus Nest, in a world where there was no light to speak of, this news spread far and wide.

Most people don't really care, because they don't know who the priest in the dormition church is. Second, in Nostramo, there is practically no difference between early morning and night.

Nostramo is a star of the eternal night. The reason is no longer known, maybe the nobles at the top know, but how many people care?

Most people don't even care about the alternation of night and day, so how can they care about the death of a priest? They don't even know who he really is.

Well, razor cares.

And Razor knows who the priest really is.

Razor - A gang leader who is inconspicuous on Nostramo, and like every other gang leader, he does whatever he wants with everyone in his territory.

In Nostramo, there are no laws and enforcers, only gangs. They owe allegiance to the upper nobility, maintain a false order, and collect taxes...... Instead of the nobles, the gangs divided and ruled every part of Nostramo.

And beyond that, they will also kill for no reason, and even more atrocities...... All these acts are really just a way for Razor and his gang to establish their prestige.

Just as wild animals are constantly tagging their territory by their body odors, gangs are killing civilians to keep their rule in order – and no one cares how many civilians die in the process.

In Nostramo, all gang members do just that.

However, Razor, which was known for its brutality, is now suffering from a headache.

"How did you die?"

Standing outside the church, Razor asked. Diagonally across from him stood a woman in a white cloth robe and a mask. Her right hand is made of metal and looks delicate.

"It's cut open." The woman said, her tone thoughtful.

Or rather, it was torn apart...... Everything in his stomach was taken out and sorted out in a very clever way. The man also pulled out half of his vertebrae and hung him under the idol. ”

Razor cursed in a low voice, and the woman shook her head, took off her mask, threw it on the ground, and said the last sentence: "By the way, there are a few words on the idol, written in blood, which seem to have been left for you." ”

"Me?"

Razor's eyes widened, and a moment later he rushed into the church in exasperation.