The old town of Quintus is an interesting complex of buildings.

In fact, twenty years ago, it was the 'New Town'.

And today, twenty years later, it has been referred to by all the Quintus people by the term Old Town. There's no reason for it, everybody calls it that. The few who knew the reason were also silent.

And the dead can't speak, of course.

With each passing day, the times are changing so relentlessly. The bones of the workers who once lived in the old town are now invisible. All of them were completely buried, no cemetery, no tombstones, no names.

Death means losing everything, doesn't it?

But at least one more person remembers them.

A revenant remembers.

Carlil jumps off the crumbling roof and dodges the Glory Overseer's patrolling vehicle.

The motorcycle pressed over the potholes, and the two men sitting on it were bumped and cursed. Unbeknownst to them, at this moment, above their heads, a dark shadow flashed.

As he and his companion walked away, Carlil shook his head, his expression somewhat regretful.

The patrollers are cautious, or rather, the people who draw these patrol routes are cautious. He set up many routes along the road, each of which crossed over with each other. This makes quiet killing a luxury.

After all, if you look at it this way, the disappearance of any group of people will attract the attention of others soon after.

Carlil can erase the sound of killing, but not the results of killing.

Every time he swung the sword, someone died—and death cannot be hidden.

Carlil moved on.

He knows every detail of the old town. Forward, turning, running into alleys, jumping into the gloomy spire houses – in just twelve minutes, he had reached the goal of his trip.

A bell tower.

At one time, it was one of the many symbols of the old town. Around the bell tower, there will be many neon lights and floating billboards from the factory. The dark night will be illuminated, and the war that has broken out near the bell tower has not stopped for a day.

All gangs want to have it.

It was silent, tall, and stood in the darkness as if it were some kind of symbol, so that all who saw it had to try to conquer it.

All of this, however, was completely changed with the advent of the Great Purge. Subsequently, the establishment of a new urban area was even worse.

Today, it can be truly called a ghost town, only the general area is still used, and it is not used by the workers.

Very much in line with Nostramo's temperament, Carlil thought.

He couldn't help but tug at the corners of his mouth and smiled coldly.

Carlil stepped forward and clinged to the ancient structure in a few deft jumps. When he climbed to the top and walked through the small arched door into the heart of the bell tower, it was not surprising that he did not see the great bronze bell here.

Was it stolen, or was it taken by some nobleman for collection? Carlil has no answer to this.

He came to the other end of the arched door, and his eyes were already on a road.

It's very different from the pitch darkness of the old town. There are incandescent lamps every fifty meters, making the whole road bright and not like a creation of Nostramo.

The Overseers of Glory have set up a key defense here, and if anything, the previous sentry posts and patrols were little more than hors d'oeuvres. This checkpoint is set up every 500 meters to be a luxurious meal.

Guns are everywhere, and they even have Sentinels - a group of real low-intelligence iron golems, crafted by the craftsmen of the Prem Hive, and selling staggeringly.

It is worth mentioning that the road is also in good condition. This is thanks to the workers who are rushed to maintain the road every two months.

...... But where are they now?

Carlil had no answer.

He exhaled softly, then bent down, took the bricks piled up at the edge of the round arch door, and whipped away some dust, and sat down on the floor.

He was going to wait for them to come, just as he had done in the past. As long as he smells them...... He will immediately leap out of the darkness and cut the throat of his prey.

But before all this can be successfully executed, he needs patience.

Patience is a rare trait that a good hunter should have, and without it you wouldn't be able to do the job.

"Patience, Wraith." Carlil muttered to himself. "Don't get hurt, don't let yourself down."

yes, don't let yourself down.

He lowered his head and clenched his hands so that the blades pressed against his skin.

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

"Don't run." Wraith said. "You shouldn't run, you should accept it all."

"Get out of here, you monster!"

A man cried and yelled, standing in a blood-soaked attic, gun in hand, but not having the courage to pull the trigger on the ghost again.

In fact, his hand was so shaky that he could barely hold it.

Half a minute ago, he had emptied a magazine, but he hadn't even touched the corner of the ghost's coat.

And if you go back half a minute, you'll see how a dark figure instantly enters the attic and rips off the limbs of one of the two sentry posts in two waves.

If you could see the mix of screams and splatters of flesh...... Perhaps, you can empathize with this man's intense fear at the moment.

In the face of the man's cries, the ghost just tilted his head.

So, is that what fear does?

He nodded thoughtfully, finally beginning to truly understand why Carlil had to be silent every time he went on a mission.

He had thought that Carlil was only doing it because he liked it. The ghost really didn't expect that Carlil would do this just because it was more effective.

They are simply vulnerable to fear.

In fact, this was even the last sentry the Wraith was responsible for cleaning up. The weeping man wasn't the first to break down in front of the ghosts tonight, though.

Before him, there were many more.

"Don't come, don't come!" The man said with tears in his eyes. "Please, don't come here, I don't want to die, I don't want to die......"

"Aren't you going to shoot me again?" The ghost stood in place, softly asking, his voice hissing.

"I, I ......"

"Shoot." The ghost said quietly. "I want you to accept it all."

"What do you accept, are you sick?!"

The man broke down and shouted, his voice echoing through the shattered attic. His fat belly was stained with blood, and a torn corpse behind him was silently watching it all.

"Accept your death, Barry."

The ghost replied in a low voice, slow and deep, soft and natural. It didn't look like he was threatening or persecuting, in fact, he sounded like he was dealing with Barry......

Chat.

"We heard you talking to Jovan, Barry. You have accepted to be a servant of the Skolewalker family, giving everything for them......"

"Why, then, can't you accept your death? You are not willing to die like this, but why? Why should you be unwilling? ”

The ghost asked sincerely, and he took it seriously. Because he couldn't think of an answer, and he didn't want to bother Carlile - and Barry ......

Barry's eyes widened, stunned.

His legs began to go limp, and then, he involuntarily fell to his knees.

We, hear, you, talking with Jovan......

We......

We.

Vengeful revenant.

I see.

No wonder the bullet didn't hit him, no wonder he was so high, no wonder my shouts didn't get the attention of the other groups, no wonder...... Jovan would suddenly become ......

It turned out that they came to me.

Barry's face began to twitch and he began to gasp for air, and the air that had been inhaled was completely ineffective in providing him with a relief effect.

His breathing began to grow more and more rapid, and his expression began to break down more and more, until at last he even fell to his knees and whimpered and cried.

The cry was broken.

"Don't cry." The ghost said softly. "Shoot me, Barry, and accept it all."

"Smack."

A gun fell to the ground. Barry refused, in his own way, and the ghost frowned and began to recall Carlil's words

"Why...... Did I encounter this kind of thing? ”

Barry said with a sob. "Why don't you go to them? Vengeful Spirit? Why don't you go to the people who tell us to do these things? ”

"Who?" Midnight Ghost asked, not wanting to correct Barry's mistake in his title for a moment.

"House Skolewalker!"

Barry roared, his eyes widened and bloodshot, his cloudy eyeballs looking to the wraith like glass corroded by acid rain.

"Why don't you go to them?!"

In the face of Barry's questioning, the ghost simply crouched down. He was entrenched on the other side of the darkness in the attic, like a monster waiting for an opportunity in the dark.

His expression is calm and natural, and full of patience.

Carlil had taught him that when he was in a conversation, he should make the other person feel respected. And now, he's already talking to Barry.

He continued, "What did they make you do?" ”

Barry was stunned, he was the one who raised the question, but he didn't seem to have thought about what would happen after it.

But the ghost thought about it.

Or - Carlil thought.

The midnight geist's hissing voice resounded again in the darkness: "They told you to squeeze the workers, collect taxes, and suppress those who resisted, right? ”

"That's right! Right! ”

As if grasping at a life-saving straw, Barry began to nod his head repeatedly, a strange madness flashing across his tearful face. "Yes! They made us do it! ”

"So, did they let you eat people, open butchers, murder, abduct people, kill people in the streets, and rob wantonly?" The ghost asked again.

Barry was stunned again, he didn't expect that all this was a matter of course in his mind. Being part of a gang means gaining these privileges.

He never imagined that these things would one day become the question of others.

Moreover, he still has no way to answer.

"So, did they let you learn from them to drive the commoners who couldn't afford to pay them out of the hive capital and leave them to fend for themselves in the wilderness as rations for the beasts?"

"So, did they let you learn from them?"

The ghost slowly stood up.

"You've long since accepted that you've become a servant of House Skolewalk, and in fact, you're at home to it, Barry. You have accepted the benefits that come with this status, and you should accept the responsibilities that come with it. ”

"No, no, it's not like that......" Barry said with a shudder.

"Yes, Barry." The ghost whispered. "Yes."

"Not really!" Barry snarled menacingly.

"I do this because I have to! I had to do it! I can't live without that, I don't want to get lung disease like those factory workers, I don't want to cough up blood and dust like them—"

The ghost nodded silently, knowing what Barry was talking about.

Workers in factories will get sick, they will get all kinds of diseases. The most common is lung disease, and, if one person has it, then the whole family will have it.

He had seen many times as he passed through shanty towns - a family, or a person, lying on the side of the street, lying on the moldy hardwood planks of the already dead people, coughing up blood, in great pain, waiting for death to come.

For no apparent reason, a wave of annoyance rose in the ghost's heart. So, he took the initiative to interrupt Barry and end the conversation.

"—Shhh Take it. ”

The ghost said softly, and took a step forward.

Barry screamed in horror, not yet hurt, but already in pain as if he had been disemboweled. Irritating tears and snot crisscrossed his fat face, and the ghost remained unmoved, continuing to walk.

"No, please, don't ......," Barry whimpered. I really don't want to, I really don't want to......"

The ghost froze in place, staring at him for a moment.

Carlile, he thought, was right.

They will really cry and really make a look of repentance.

But we can't forgive them. We are not in a position to forgive the victims. ’

The Wraith stepped forward, stretched out his right hand, and lifted Barry's chin.

"Don't cry, Barry." The ghost said softly. "It's the prerogative of humans to cry, and you're not."

There was rain outside the window and it began to pour.