Tujea shook his head vigorously and slowly lowered the gun in his hand. He had some tinnitus in his ears, which is what happens when he shoots in a tunnel or a small room, and if it's worse, he will lose his hearing.

The Katahan MK3 isn't a noisy gun, but it's also not the kind of laser gun that only buzzes. It is a live-ammunition firearm that has enjoyed the power to make noise since its invention and evolution.

Tujea thought about these things for a while, and put the gun back in the pocket of his coat.

Yes, he changed his coat back - the Moran family had been completely removed, and the officers sensed something else from the death of the inspector and the indifference of the higher-ups.

Overall, Tujea won back his right to wear his coat.

Sometimes, old clothes are just much more comfortable to wear than new ones.

He reached into his pocket, pulled out a handful of candy, leaned against the cold wall of the tunnel, and began to pick it out by the light of the emergency lights.

It took him half a minute to pick one of the cheap gray candies, but they all looked the same, they were all firmly wrapped in gray candy wrappers, and even if they were taken apart, it was impossible to see anything from the uniform pale white

In a way, there is probably no difference between eating sugar and killing someone.

Both of these things need to be practiced.

Tujea looked down at the ground, and under the dim white light of the emergency lights, two bright red blood stains were spreading in front of him, and the rough concrete floor of the underground tunnel had been completely stained red.

He walked forward, his boots clashing against the concrete, and the sound became a muffled echo through the tunnel, which began to echo through the tunnel.

A muffled grunt came from in front of him, accompanied by a slight grinding sound. The incandescent lights began to flicker, the voltage in the tunnel seemed to be a little problematic, and Tujea's face loomed in the faint light. Unhurriedly, he followed the crawling man, then lifted his foot and stepped on the knee of his right leg that he had pierced.

He heard a scream very clearly.

"It's him," a soul whispered in his ear.

Tujea didn't speak, just rolled the candy under his tongue and pressed it gently.

The unique sour taste caused by the chemical reaction continued to spread on the taste buds of his tongue, and he opened his mouth and inhaled a breath of cold air, so that the sour taste transformed into a strange feeling with a cold feeling.

He pulled the gun out of his pocket, crouched down, and aimed the swarthy barrel at a sweaty, terrified face.

"What the hell do you want to do.?" The owner of the face asked in despair.

Tujea didn't speak, just pulled the hammer.

He seemed to have fallen into a strange state of astonishment, his green eyes falling somewhere in the darkness without focus, but the hand holding the gun did not move in the slightest.

At the same time, the murmur of the dead in his ears was slowly changing, from a murmur to a growl of hatred.

Tujea inhaled another breath of cold air, then quickly spit it out. He put down his gun, reached out and grabbed a handful of sticky hair, and began to carry the wounded man back.

He screamed, babbling along the way, promising many things he thought would impress Tujea. This useless struggle continued until Tujea threw him among three corpses, all of whom were his companions and they were from the same gang.

They descended from the surface of Sector 2 into the underground at midnight in full gear, and were eventually shot in the tunnel by Tujea, who was following them all the way.

As for which gang it is. A face flashed in front of Tujea's eyes, it was a middle-aged man with a mustache, his face covered in blood.

"Listen, I have a big deposit. I'm doing things for Elvis, okay? I resold placebos for him, so I had a lot of money. If you don't believe me, you can stop the bleeding for me and take me back to my house. ”

"I have a safe hidden under the bed, and there are six thousand dollars in cash in it, and you can take them all. If that's not enough, I have more-"

"—shh Tujea shook his head at him, interrupting his survival struggle with a soft boo.

At the same time, he raised his gun again.

The man looked at him in fear, his body trembling, but he didn't notice that the eyes hidden under the brim of his hat were slowly changing. The original green color has disappeared without a trace, replaced by a light blue full of hatred.

'Tujea' gritted his teeth and said, "I'm just a delivery driver, why did you kill me?" ”

The man was stunned, the gunfire flashed in the next second, and with a loud bang, he fell on his back, and his whole face had been completely shattered.

Tujea closed his eyes and bit down on the candy. He stood up sullenly, the whisper in his ear fast away, and the cold came again, plunging into his flesh and opening an invisible door.

After a few seconds, it closed, and the cold changed into a strange warmth that flowed through his body.

Tujea turned around and began to walk towards the exit of the tunnel.

The gunshot wound he received some time ago has completely healed, he does not have any particularly good medical conditions, he has not undergone adjustment surgery, and his self-healing ability is still only at the level of ordinary people. Now, however, he has fully recovered from his injuries.

Not only that, but he also.

The investigator stopped his thoughts with a headache and sighed, still not understanding what he was involved in.

Horst didn't explain much to him, just showed him an insignia from the Inquisition, and then told him that the Avengers had actually existed for thousands of years and was a rather secretive organization

Honestly, this explanation is better than no explanation.

There are many mysteries, but Tujea can't solve any of them, which is not a very good job experience for an investigator. What's more, there are not only avengers on the Litatra, there is also a squad of the Astarte Wargroup that is active.

The other day, Tujea met with the Zell again in the chapel, and he revealed a few things, such as the names of the warbands and what they were doing.

Tujie Awan never expected that his investigation mission could be related to Astarte, and what is even more paradoxical is that they actually took the initiative to help him solve the aftermath of this matter, what is this? How could Astarte be so idle?

With this in mind, some speculations began to diverge infinitely into the chaotic thoughts, and many details were connected by him. Like the language used by both Horst and Zell, or the strange god that bleeds in the church.

However, details are only details after all, and he cannot deduce the truth from these things. To make matters worse, when Tujea came to his senses, he found that he had begun to act naturally as a 'vengeer' rather than an investigator.

He completely left behind his unsatisfactory job, and began to concentrate on his duty as a vengeer. Sometimes it's just a simple revenge, and sometimes you need to meet some people and do something after revenge

Now, Tujea can only console himself with the phrase 'at least better than paperwork'.

He quickly left the tunnel and returned to the surface of the second sector.

The month of the Holy Spirit has just begun, and the once quiet nights are now noisy. Some of the fairly wide areas of the streets are plastered with slogans and symbols, fluttering in the night breeze.

The arena is still bustling with activity, too, with haters waiting for their time to play. Barring no surprises, this will continue from the beginning to the end of the month of the Holy Spirit.

What could be better than murdering an enemy reasonably and legally?

Tujea watched their commotion coldly, and slowly left the street, as if he had a guide, and he left the second arrondissement through a few winding alleys and headed for the third arrondissement.

The leader of the gang named Elvis was in the area, and he won the duel during the day, and the young Billy, who was inexperienced after all, fell into a trap at the last minute and was stabbed in the throat.

This is the end of their feud.

Excited, Elvis gave the order on the spot for his men waiting in the crowd to take over Billy's forces. The deputy inspector of the first district didn't react to this, and even shook hands with Elvis, praising him for a wonderful game

Tujea only had a sense of absurdity about this, because he could clearly see the souls in Elvis's shadow, and all of them, without exception, were victims killed by Elvis himself, which also revealed a certain essence of this middle-aged man

Tujea has seen a lot of gang leaders, and there is no shortage of cold-blooded murderers among them, but this is only a minority after all. Most of the others are still just in it for the money – if not for that, why would they be willing to embark on this terrible path where their lives are in danger at every moment?

Elvis, on the other hand, is probably different, and because of this, he deserves some special treatment.

Tujea reached into his coat pocket with his right hand and grasped his gun. Night covered the land, but the world before him was not dark, and many illusory souls were wordlessly pointing the way for him.

Tujea thought that these souls needed to stay by the murderer's side all the time, but now it seems that this is not the case. Or is it simply because of the peculiarity of his 'profession' that they have the power to leave?

Speculating on these things, he gradually moved away from the bustling streets of the Third District and the crowds marching to celebrate the month of the Holy Spirit, and to a half-deserted factory. If the guidance of the revenants doesn't go wrong, then this is Elvis's lair.

This is rare, can use a factory as his lair, does an ordinary hive gang leader have this ability?

Tujea frowned slightly, staring at the looming firelight in the factory for a moment. Instead of choosing to enter immediately, he took out a handful of candy again and picked one for himself.

He had already killed quite a few people tonight, and at Horst's suggestion, he had killed all the men sent by Elvis within three hours of the night's arrival.

He no longer had to worry about ammunition, and the people of the Second Ward welcomed him as a person who could come and go freely in and out of the church. Some time ago, he was an unpopular investigator, but now he seems to be a native of Litatra, where he has lived for at least thirty years

However, he did not have this kind of combat power before.

No matter how abundant the ammunition is, it is possible to find twenty-six gangsters scattered all over the nest in batches within three hours, and kill them without much effort. This kind of thing was something he couldn't have imagined before.

But now, he could see a crowd of dead souls. They showed Tujea the way with great precision, and even gave him a special vision to see through the walls.

It's like an aristocratic private assassin in high-tech gear hunting down people in the hive who have no idea of his existence, in other words, effortlessly.

It's ridiculous. Tujea thought to himself. I seem to have suddenly become a natural psyker who needs to report to the local psyker authority, maybe I really am? If I do, I'll even be able to go to Terra.

He was amused by his own thoughts, and while it was indeed an honor, he also knew in his heart that this kind of power was probably nothing to match psionic energy.

So, the question is, what kind of power is this? The person who hooked up with it was either Astarte or a member of the Inquisition hidden within the Anglican Church, oh, and maybe add one more now, namely him, a low-ranking investigator of the Ministry of Justice

Tujea reluctantly crushed the candy and walked into the abandoned factory yard with a gun. It's a barren place, with telephone poles toppled down, moss-covered concrete floors full of cracks, and no human figure in sight.

The inhabitants of District 3 probably knew who this factory belonged to, and even during the month of the Holy Spirit, no celebratory procession dared to pass by.

The main body of the factory was lit up in the darkness with a slight fire, and it looked like the head of a giant beast. Tujea quietly approached its door, his steps rather calm.

In the past, even if he really decided to raid a gangster lair alone, it would have taken him a long time to find out if there were any of their sentry posts around.

Now he didn't have to, in the raised illusory arms and whispering, all the information near the factory had been thoroughly grasped by him.

He could even clearly tell how many people were inside—twenty-four, one no more, one no less.

This is all that remains of Elvis's gang, and they are having a celebration in their lair. A faint noise emanated from the broken windows and closed doors, and Tujea raised his left hand and hammered the door hard.

With a dull sound, the revelry inside immediately stopped. Tujea did not get out of the way, but calmly raised his gun.

The power was roaring within him, and they had turned from a warm current into a manic boiling molten iron that raged through his veins and into his heart and brain.

The world before him changed, the walls and the gate vanished, and a humanoid silhouette outlined by light white lines was slowly walking towards the gate with a gun

After a while, with the sound of hinges, the door was opened, and the man who opened the door walked out with an unhappy face and a drunken face, and then he was held to the forehead with a gun.

Tujea pulled the trigger with a blank face.

He was reluctant to admit that he liked his job as an avenger more than an investigator, but his actions had left him with no room for arguments.

He just prefers revenge and revenge. He just wanted to see the damned die one by one, he had endured it for too long, and besides, he didn't have to break any rules to do so.

The dead were roaring in his ear, not for personal vendettas, not for money or status, but simply revenge - the revenge of the dead. They borrowed his body and his gun to shoot hate-filled bullets at those who had committed the most heinous crimes.

Tujea didn't notice that he was smiling.

But his enemies noticed.

Twenty-four people were killed on the spot by Katahan MK3 bullets in the first round of shooting, and Tujea missed a bullet, as if his bullets were able to find the enemy on their own.

The rest of the men were immediately forced out of the carnival state by a cold sweat, and at Elvis's roaring orders, they raised their guns and began to return fire.

Shotguns and large-caliber automatic guns flew the cement pillars and wild decorations of the factory, and the special workers who had been brought back from the nearby brothel screamed and stayed where they were.

Men and women, they didn't run around with great interest, but secretly prayed that the gang fire would end soon—their prayers soon came true, and the exchange of fire lasted less than three minutes, and all the remaining people died.

Torches hung from the walls of the factory, and the light they emitted illuminated one distorted face after another, and corpses littered the ground.

Tujea carried the gun, and as he changed the bullets, he stepped out of a heavy cement pillar without hurrying. He heard the sound of running, but he didn't have to look up. A hateful, slightly familiar voice whispered in his ear.

It was the voice of young Billy.

"Left. The second pillar, he wanted to run. Kill him! ”

Tujea slowly raised his head, and with a flick of his wrist, the magazine spun back into the gun. He raised his gun, pulled down his hammer, and aimed at Elvis, who was fleeing, but did not fire immediately.

I have no grievances with you, this raid, this inexplicable massacre I killed you has nothing to do with justice, and it's not because I can't see people like you in the world.

There are millions of nests in the Empire, and there are countless such people in each nest, and you have become a law of nature, a part of the order.

Tujea closed his eyes, and half a second later, when he opened them again, the green color was gone. The light chestnut color that belonged to Billy Payson boiled and burned, and he roared, his voice echoing through the factory.

"Elvis!"

The running man suddenly stopped and turned his head in disbelief. In the throbbing firelight, the blood-stained eyes met his eyes.

But how is this possible?

"I'll kill you! I've already killed you! Elvis suddenly roared in response.

He showed great courage, but his forehead was already full of cold sweat, and he even accelerated his running. He didn't believe that such a thing could happen, that Billy Payson was dead, just like he had stabbed his parents with a knife and robbed them of all the money in the house.

He stabbed Billy in the throat with another knife and watched him lose his life.

How could he possibly come back? His body had been burned to ashes.

Billy didn't answer him, maybe he wanted to, but Tujea didn't. There were other people on the scene, and he didn't want Billy to reveal too much.

So the mad resentful spirits full of hatred really didn't say those words, but just began to run wildly. He could run much faster than Elvis, or rather, much faster than any normal person.

He quickly caught up with Elvis and threw him to the ground, starting to beat the face with his fists and the handle of the gun.

Blood splattered out, and Elvis roared, struggling, asking, "I killed you!" How could you possibly come back?! ”

Billy still didn't answer, just pointed the gun at Elvis, he should have pulled the trigger, but he had wasted too much time.

As if cold water had been poured over his head, Tujea had once again gained control of his body, and Billy Payson's soul was no longer in his sights.

This is the price you have to pay if you want to take revenge with your own hands.

"Wait, you're not him!" Elvis roared suddenly.

Beneath the wide-brimmed hat, with the help of the beating firelight, he saw a pair of green eyes that seemed to glow. The fear faded slightly, and Elvis mustered up his strength and pushed Tujea away from him with the implanted augmentation in his right hand.

He stumbled to his feet, pointed at Tujea and roared, "Pretending to be a ghost! Billy Payson is dead! ”

"yes, he just died." Tujea pressed his hat and slowly stood up from the ground.

He glanced at Elvis, the resentful spirits gathering around him, silent, but with a black flame burning in their eyes.

If they could touch Elvis, I'm afraid the man would have been completely crushed. However, they don't have this ability, and there is a clear distinction between life and death, and they need the help of some people to touch their enemies.

Tujea didn't want to do that now, so they pointed to Elvis's right cuff as if there was something hidden inside.

Tujea's eyes narrowed.

"Who sent you?"

Elvis asked warily, constantly backing away. He seems to have mistaken Tujea's act of leaving behind to mean something else, and began to confide in many other names.

They all sounded like gang leaders like him, and he thought Tujea was the killer they had hired. However, no matter how many names he uttered, the 'killer' remained silent, silent, and expressionless.

But he didn't raise a gun either.

It dawned on Elvis, at least that's what he thought.

"I see, the guy who sent you wasn't bidding high enough, was he?" He spoke quickly. "So, I'm out three times, how? No matter how much he sells, I'll give three times! ”

"In the name of the God Emperor, you and I have no grievances or hatreds, we are just begging for a living! I have a house in the city, and my private cash box is in it, the rich area! Think about it, sir! I have a house in a rich area! ”

He said as he slowly raised his hands. The crumpled suit was stained with blood and dust, and he looked extremely embarrassed. Tujea didn't care about any of these things, he just stared at his right hand staring at Elvis, and didn't say a word.

"We can work together—" Elvis said, his expression quickly becoming hideous.

He quickly threw off his right hand, and a pocket-sized pistol flashed from his cuff and was held in his hand. This series of movements is not unpleasant, he has practiced at least tens of thousands of times to have such a speed, and even his fingers are on the trigger in an instant.

Tujea, however, was quicker than him.

With a single gunshot, Elvis fell on his back, and Katahan MK3 turned his head into a puddle of rotten flesh without discrimination.

Tujea silently withdrew his gun and shook his head. The door rose again, and countless sharp knives pierced through him again

At the same time, there was a sound of running behind him, and the people who had been invited to make fun had already taken advantage of this time to escape, and they were obviously not stupid.

Tujea sighed, silently said the words in his heart, and the door closed naturally. Immediately afterwards, he found a stone and sat on it, and after a while, Horst's voice came from the darkness.

"That's a good job." He complimented. "Also, you know I'm coming?"

"I don't know, but they do." Tujea said without looking up.

The priest chuckled and stepped out of the darkness. With the sound of footsteps, Tujea finally looked up at him. He noticed that the black robe worn by the priest was very wide at the cuffs, and he didn't need to guess, and he knew that the two knives were probably in it now.

Only, in what way? Do you snug it up your wrist, or do you keep it in your sleeve?

His guess was naturally interrupted by Horst's next sentence.

"You're really talented, you know?" The pastor said very seriously.

"What talent? Psionic talents? Tujea asked rhetorically. Do you think I have psionic talent? If it's true, can I go to Terra? ”

The priest was amused by his words, shook his head, and said, "No, I mean your talent in our business. You seem to have been born to do this, Tujea. Look at yourselves, and work with the vain dead."

"Is it hard?"

"It's not that hard, of course, but the real challenge is that you're starting to learn to get used to it."

The priest paused for a few seconds, then looked at him meaningfully. Tujea's heart tightened at his gaze, and he shook his head in reluctance to admit it, and wanted to refute, but suddenly there was a sharp pain like a pinprick in his mind.

Instinctively, he looked up at the sky. The ceiling of the factory had long since been corroded clean, and only the steel bars were left to divide the sky into irregular chunks and small pieces.

The night in Litatra should have been peaceful, but now it was lit up with sparkling fires. Tujea covered his forehead and stood up in pain, he wanted to ask Horst what had happened, only to find that the latter's expression was even more distorted than his.

He didn't understand why at first, until five seconds later, when the sky suddenly brightened as day, and countless vastness of ghosts suddenly filled the sky

They roared a name in unison.

"Erebus!"

Tujea fell unconscious.

(End of chapter)