The never-ending nights took on a different haze under the rain, falling vertically and smashing into pieces on the gloomy buildings of Nostramo.

The rain doesn't stop.

Carlil crouched silently above the head of a giant gargoyle, looking out at the Church of Dormition below. The ghost was behind him, and the mere existence of this event made a cold chill run down Carlil's back.

The spirits are not hostile to him, and this natural sense of threat comes from the differences between them.

Carlil knew this well - he had known it since the moment he had met the ghost six months ago.

"How?"

A hissing voice sounded behind him, and the ghost's voice was softer than most when speaking Nostramo.

Carlil didn't answer.

"How's it going, Carlil? Are we going to act? ”

The ghost asked again, a little impatient in his voice. "He was in the church...... And his men...... Opportunity ...... never before"

"He was never the target." Carlil finally spoke, his tone cold. "A dog at best."

He didn't say a word more than that. The ghost fell silent, and he began to empty his thoughts, and with this unsettling silence, the ghost closed its eyes.

The next moment, countless visions swept in. Ominous, dark, violent...... Terrible. They are some refraction of the future, a shattered mirror.

But the spirits were unmoved.

He knew that of all these illusions, only one could come true, and the others were mere interferences. However, he rarely gets a glimpse of the future without distractions.

This is also one of his talents.

He hadn't told Carlil about it, but of course, there was another thing - the ghost had never seen Carlil's shadow in the visions he saw.

Not once.

In the visions he could see, it seemed as if the person Karil Lohals did not exist.

Carlil didn't care about the ghost's silence, he was used to this companion who was more like a monster than he was. The Midnight Geist was more of a humanoid beast than a human for the most part, and he was fully aware of the beast's habits.

Carlil knew that Wraiths liked to be silent.

It just so happens that he likes it when he thinks about it.

Carlil stared at the woman in the white robe, his eyesight was good. This allowed him to see the woman's outfit clearly.

The white robe that the woman wore was outlined with gold threads around the edges, which was very different from the dress of most of the lower class of the nest. Even some nobles are probably not qualified to wear such clothes.

And the metal prosthetic......

It was clear that this was someone from above, and Razor didn't seem grovelling when talking to her.

Carlil just smiled calmly. What else could he say? He wasn't surprised.

The woman left the church door, got into a car, and left. The rumbling machine starts to move, the momentum is terrifying, and the volume is even more terrifying. The car took up most of the street, and even killed two children crossing the street as it left.

However, no one cared about this at all, only a few hands reached out from the darkness, eager to drag the bloody corpse inside.

Wanderers who were unable to continue working due to illness and were thrown out of the factory...... They need these two children.

People will always go hungry.

There was a screeching sound behind him, as if two sharp pieces of metal were rubbing against each other.

Carlil knew it was a monster rubbing his teeth.

"There's no need." Carlil said. "Your anger is useless now, Spirit. She can't die now, do you see the clothes she's wearing? ”

"Noble ......," the ghost exhaled coldly, a cold mist.

"Yes, nobleman."

Carlil grinned, laughed silently, and nodded.

He was supposed to be handsome, with melancholy eyebrows and a high nose. However, the way he laughed out loud could completely ruin that handsomeness.

At this moment, he is crouching on the gargoyle, like a monster that chooses people to devour in the dark.

"I'm going to church to pray."

Carlil stood up, the gargoyles at his feet silently baring their teeth at the sky. "You can go after the woman first...... But don't kill her. ”

He turned his head, looked up, looked at the tall, silent ghost, and patiently asked, "Can it be done?" ”

"I don't guarantee ......," the ghost whispered. I can't guarantee ......"

In the face of his ambiguous statement, Carlil only smiled.

"As long as you don't kill her." He whispered. "You know what I mean."

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

"Fuck!"

Razor kicked the priest's head away in a rage, and it flew into the air and crashed into the bench not far away, rolling away.

At this moment, the interior of the church was like a slaughterhouse, and the strong smell of blood made some of the bodies of the eleven people present tremble.

Don't get me wrong, they're not afraid. How could they be afraid? They have done something more terrible with their own hands.

As for the reason......

A hallucinogen, made from human blood, is also very popular in Nostramo. Most of the gang members have injected it and are deeply fascinated by it.

As this addiction deepens, the mere use of ordinary blood can also have a stimulant-like effect on the injector.

If you think it's ridiculous, then you don't know much about Nostramo. There is no morality here, anything can happen here as long as it is profitable.

Razor stood beneath the blood-stained idol, anger churning endlessly in his heart—many times, he had to work very hard to suppress his emotions.

However, when he glanced up and saw the words on the idol, his anger finally exploded.

"What does he think he is?!"

Razor roared and pulled out his pistol from his waist and fired at the idol, shattering the head of the blurred god. He had no respect for the god at all, after all, Razor knew that the god didn't exist.

"Still for my sins? Damn it! How noble does a madman who kills people all over the city think he is? ”

"I'm going to kill him, I'm going to skin him and take out every rib of him to carve!"

The razor roared wildly, his temples throbbed, his forehead bruised – his anger was not just a source of unquenchable emotion, it was also related to a chemical he had been ingesting. It has a long history and is a special treat for the upper class of aristocrats.

Also Razor's pay for doing something for one of them.

Lo and behold...... In Nostramo, anyone can find a way to have fun.

Only, at what cost?

"I'm not noble, Razor...... But I did come for your sin. ”

A voice said, and the lights in the church suddenly went out in the next second—once the lights in the church were controlled by the priest, and if he didn't nod, no one could turn the lights on or off.

As for now...... He's dead.

In the darkness, a soft voice rang out, filled with a rapid hissing sound. The words are tactful, as romantic as poetry, but they make those who hear them feel creepy.

"Murder is the most common crime of Nostramo, my dear Mr. Razor. When the fire of anger rises in the heart, anyone can commit such evil deeds...... However, I personally don't like that very much. ”

"Killing motivated by anger is inefficient. I hate inefficiency. ”

Razor didn't answer the voice in the darkness, he glared, his gun in hand, and his anger vanished without a trace.

The gang leader, who had been yelling at someone two minutes earlier, was surprisingly calm, and so were the ten men he had brought with him. Without even mobilizing, they spontaneously formed a back-to-back formation.

"Well trained, Mr. Razor."

The voice sounded again, and the smile was obvious.

"So, which nobleman's private soldier are you? Is anyone planning to purge the forces at the bottom again? Ah, once every twenty years, it's like a natural law...... The law of nature, which brings great benefits......"

"Show up!"

Razor shouted into the darkness. "Now that you've guessed it, there's no need to be our enemy anymore! You can't afford it! ”

"The price is ......"

The voice in the darkness laughed lowly, the sound echoing between the stone walls of the Dormition Chapel, eventually becoming distorted and becoming like the low roar of a monster. The temperature is starting to get cooler.

Cold sweat ran down his razor's forehead, and he couldn't understand why he was so nervous. Could it be because of the darkness all around? However, darkness is the thing that every Nostramo person is most accustomed to.

He was used to walking in the dark.

But...... He couldn't stop the trembling of his hand holding the gun at this moment. And in the next second, a slight sound from behind him stirred up his tense nerves.

Razor spun around and shot in that direction with his companions.

Gunfire erupted.

"Wrong direction, Mr. Razor."

A voice rang out from the top of Razor's head, followed by warm breathing. His eyes widened, and he raised his hand, about to pull the trigger, but a piercing pain from his wrist stopped him.

The sharp sound of some kind of sharp blade cutting through the air was heard again, and the dull sound of the blade entering the flesh followed.

The gangs are all too familiar with this kind of sound.

Finally, there is the scream of the razor. He kicked off the killing with the worst wail of his life.

Gunfire was loud again.

Realizing what was happening, the gang members began shooting wildly at the ceiling, but found nothing.

They had been trained in the mansions of the nobility, and knew that in such a situation it was necessary to leave a part of the army on guard, rather than to rain ammunition all at once, which would give the enemy an opportunity.

However, they can't remember anymore.

They just want to keep pulling the trigger.

The unjustified and illogical fear that had crept through the darkness had completely ruined their training. Fear destroys the details of their memories, the wills they think are strong.

Fear crushes everything.

And so death struck again.

Karil rushed out from behind them with swiftness, the blade in his hand swinging with swift speed, each slashing with precision.

The first stab pierced someone's cheek from behind, and the victim screamed in pain, trying to break free but to no avail. The blade stabbed into his flesh and blood, but it also controlled him.

Immediately afterward, Carlil spun his right wrist. The tremendous force allowed the second knife to penetrate through the jaw and out of the head.

Blood gushed out, and he narrowed his eyes and licked his lips in satisfaction.

"Back!"

Someone shouted in the dark, however, Carlil didn't want to give them another chance.

He never had mercy and never missed an opportunity.

He deftly drew the blade from the flesh, took a step back, and with a sharp force on his right leg, he kicked the lifeless corpse into the air and crashed into the chaos of the crowd, and they instantly fell sideways.

A few lucky ones had already swapped their bullets, and they trembled and pulled the trigger, and flames erupted from the muzzle of their guns, illuminating the darkness and bringing a smiling monster to their vision.

Carlil began to glide - his steps allowed him to move lightly through the darkness, and he didn't even need to be distracted to easily dodge the bullets wrapped in fear.

It's too simple, it's too easy.

Slaughter...... For him, it was as natural as breathing.

Rushing forward, the right hand is handed out, and the blade cuts through the arc, bringing out the blood. Then he lunges forward and kicks a man's head into bend. A crunch sounded, and Carlil laughed loudly.

Stop, rotate your wrist, pierce the eyeball and the back of your brainstem, and stir. Draw the blade and plunge into the throat of the other person. Bending down to avoid the hug, he sliced the soft throat of the attacker with his backhand.

Throw it with his left hand, letting the weapon plunge into a man's chest, then turn around and use his free left hand to pull out the cartilage and trachea from the severed throat.

"Ah......h

The monster smiled and froze in place, shaking its grip on the sticky flesh, shaking its head, and taking a deep breath as if it were comfortable.

"And three more."

He whispered, counting the number of enemies, but he didn't look at the trembling gang members. He could already smell a foul smell of urine, mixed with the smell of blood, obviously.

Moments later, there was another scream in the church, and the low, wall-pounding laughter was the accompaniment to their deaths.

Between the cluttered benches, the priest's head stared silently in the darkness, staring indifferently at it all.

Dead people don't comment on this.