He jumped, claw in hand and ready to strike, as the upside-down form of Harrison drew closer. The man's eyes were wide with terror, the disapproving gaze that had once mocked Karl now replaced by fear. It's so easy to kill a person. Not much different from slaughtering a pig, Karl thought with pity. Pity he thought, but did not feel.
He drew back his arm and plunged the bone claw into Harrison's chest! But he wasn't done. He grabbed the man by the shoulders, using his strength to yank him off the ceiling, sending him crashing headfirst into the stone floor.
Bang!
Harrison's head smashed into the ground, burying itself deep into the hardened floor. His body, however, remained rigid, as if his legs were still drawn to the ceiling. He's still latched to the roof? To him, it's like he's hanging from the ceiling, his head plunged into it, Karl thought.
He took a few steps back from Harrison, as the man's body began to pale, his skin turning a sickly white hue, clinging tightly to his bones and revealing his skeletal form. He died just like that? Karl wondered. Am I actually stronger than most sanguines, or was this just luck? After all, if Jean had left him to deal with Harrison first, he might have been the one lying dead on the floor. Caution, Karl reminded himself. He needed that if he wanted to survive in this world.
He leaned closer to inspect the corpse.
Suddenly, a wave of nausea hit him, and he coughed violently. His eyes shifted to Jean, recognizing the obvious source of the affliction.
Jean smiled, shrugged, and looked away from Karl. Almost immediately, the nausea faded, and he let out a breath, feeling the calmness return to his mind. He glanced back at the corpse. I was told to bring back the soul bombs, Karl thought, reaching out to search the man's clothes. The body remained rigid and still.
Suddenly, a hot orange-red light caught his eye. Karl leaped back just in time as two beams of light shot through the air, passing between him and Harrison's body. The beams struck the ground, leaving behind a smoldering, charred spot. Karl quickly turned toward the three-step stage, where Galf, the Maw gang leader, stood. His eyes now glowed a fiery reddish-orange, with faint wisps of smoke rising from them.
Heinrich's strained voice echoed through the space. "Did you think we'd let you kill a fellow leader and loot him?" His gaze was hard, unyielding. "Do we look like jokes to you?"
This? Isn't this all a setup? Karl thought, recalling the recent events. It's clear they were planning to get rid of him sooner or later. Maybe the leverage Harrison had over them kept them from acting sooner, but now they need something he had. Could it be the soul bombs? His thoughts raced. But if they take them, I can't complete my mission for the Thought Faction. Should I fight them too? He hesitated for a moment before speaking. "It must be nice, letting someone else do the dirty work," he muttered under his breath, his eyes fixed on Galf's burning gaze. He didn't like the idea of facing someone who could attack from a distance.
Heinrich frowned, stepping down from the stage. "You killed a leader, which means you become one. You inherit his territory and men. Take that as your price," he said, pausing briefly before adding, "Or you can take your chances against us."
That's impossible. Even with the Vixen, I doubt I could take them on. Maybe Fredrick would help, but... would he? Karl fought back a sigh, standing up. "Fine, take me there," he said, resigning himself to the situation. There might still be some leftover soul bombs. The cognizer didn't specify how many I needed, so just one should be enough, he hoped.
Heinrich signaled toward the stage, and a boy, seemingly no older than twelve, appeared from the door in the left corner. Dressed in a tattered black jacket with a bruised face, the boy approached. "He'll take you," Heinrich said.
Karl nodded, gathering his things. He pulled the sickle from the body, wiping the blood on his clothes. He gave the boy a quick glance, then turned to Jean. "That's it," he said, before heading toward the exit. His eyes darted toward Galf—the man with the laser eyes—one last time.
Jean watched Karl leave. That's it? she wondered, looking down at the black finger Karl had tossed to her earlier. Is this mine now? Is this the nature of a vortex? Events and rewards? She felt Susan stir beneath her clothes, tickling her skin. Her gaze shifted to Heinrich and Galf, who remained silent, watching her. They're really going to let me go? Shrugging, she casually exited through the door. Well, that was quick; my night's not ruined yet.
Karl walked through a narrow corridor, silent, clean, and free of dust. Dim lamps lined the walls, casting a gloomy, faint light. He glanced at the young boy walking ahead, noting the visible bruise on his face. Did he get into a fight? Karl wondered briefly before looking away. His interest ended there.
After a few moments, they reached a doorway.
The boy reached out and opened the door, allowing the mist from outside to seep in like water. Karl hesitated, scanning the surroundings. I don't trust them. What if this is a trap? he thought. Maybe they want to lead me somewhere to kill me. Or perhaps the boy is the assassin. He frowned at the speculation while eying the boy. If that happens, I suppose I won't be surprised.
The street they stepped into was desolate. The lamp posts were either broken or flickering weakly, casting barely enough light to pierce the mist. The swirling fog made it seem like figures were approaching from within. Ambushers, maybe, Karl thought but quickly dismissed the idea.
This feels too suspicious. How could they just let me go? If it's the soul bombs they want, wouldn't they be after Harrison's base too? They must know that. So, what do they really want? He shook his head. Still, Jean did well. Though, there's always the chance she did it to save herself from Harrison's retaliation.
As he pondered, Karl spotted a carriage partially obscured by the mist. Its silhouette appeared ghostly in the dim light. He squinted, focusing on the creature pulling it—a black-scaled lizard, about two meters long, with limbs close to its belly, giving it a slithering appearance. As Karl approached, the details became clearer.
It's a black-scaled lizard, he noted, though thinner and more emaciated than the ones he had seen in the city. Its bones were more pronounced, and patches of red skin showed where scales had been torn away. Were they harvested? Maybe sold? He heard many made money doing such things.
The bruised boy spoke shakily to the driver, a figure so shrouded in mist that he was barely visible. Even with his enhanced senses, Karl couldn't make out the driver's features, only the faint outlines of his form.
He did not like that.
Suddenly, Karl heard footsteps approaching. He tensed, turning swiftly. Is Heinrich and Galf finally making their move? He hoped not.
The footsteps grew louder, echoing against the rough cobblestone street lined with flickering eternal lamps. The lamps, usually never extinguished, were dimmer than they should have been, perhaps deliberately so. Or maybe those things that fend on light gnawed at them. He couldn't be sure which.
"You did well, son of the fallen," a voice called out from the mist.
Fredrick, Karl recognized the voice.
A figure stepped forward, emerging from the mist. Fredrick was dressed in a dark red, buttoned straight coat with red accents and a long black cape that seemed to merge with the fog. His eyes, glowing faintly red, gave him a dangerous air. He looks like a vampire, Karl thought. Not that I know what a vampire really looks like, but still… did he see the fight?
As Fredrick approached, Karl frowned, picking up a metallic scent in the air. He smells like blood!
"Apologies for the scent," Fredrick said with a smile, wiping blood from parts of his coat.
Should I ask him why? Karl wondered for a moment but decided against it. Why did he need to know, anyway? Besides, after the hypnosis incident, Karl didn't want to implicate himself further. Never antagonize someone stronger than you! Even if that person claims to be your servant.
Fredrick glanced at Karl for a moment before saying, "Some of the escaped thugs ran too close to the garrison's stations. I suppose they wanted to report to the guardsmen or even an invigilator. I was asked not to 'directly' assist you, and I didn't." He then looked toward the carriage.
Karl remained silent and nodded. He noticed the bruised boy standing nearby, staring at them with wide, startled eyes. The boy opened his mouth as if to speak but quickly shut it. He repeated the motion a few more times, struggling to voice something gnawing at him. His hands trembled, and his legs quivered, shaking like a frightened animal.
It was strange.
To Karl, the boy's behavior reminded him of how pigs reacted when they sensed death. Pigs weren't that intelligent, but he suspected Fredrick had done something to boost their awareness. Now, this boy was showing similar fear. Is he scared of something? Karl wondered, glancing at Fredrick. Him?
Fredrick's voice broke the silence. "A natural-born sanguine?" he asked, approaching the boy and crouching before him. "Or a mutant?"
The boy froze, and even Karl was momentarily stunned by the question. However, he said nothing, knowing from rumors back on the farm and whispers in the city that mutants were people tainted by astra, turning them into monsters who lost their senses. As for what exactly that meant, he had no idea.
Does this mean the boy is one of them? Karl briefly recalled the cracked sky in the forest.
The boy's eyes widened, his breathing became erratic. With his gaze lowered and fists clenched, he muttered in a shaky voice, "I... Sir... Please... Don't report me!"
There was a pause before Fredrick calmly replied, "I have no intention to, as long as you tell me what Heinrich's plans are regarding Harrison."
The boy glanced around nervously before whispering, "Inside the carriage."
Fredrick smiled and turned to Karl. "Let's go," he said, opening the carriage door and ushering Karl inside.
Still unsure of the situation, Karl stepped into the cold carriage and took a seat on the uncomfortable cushions. The ride began with a sharp lash of the reins, followed by a low growl from the puller as the vehicle jerked into motion. Despite the smooth start, the journey was anything but steady, as the rough, uneven streets of the slums made the carriage bounce uncomfortably.
A few minutes into the ride, Karl peered through the windows, seeing the occasional dim lights burning inside scattered stores. The mist lay thick like a blanket, winding itself through the streets, making the lamps seem like faint beacons in a foggy sea. He spotted beggars, beastmen, and the occasional guardsman. The silence in the carriage was heavy with tension. He could feel the fear radiating from the young boy, who sat across from him, his fingers clenched tightly in his lap.
"Alright?" Fredrick broke the silence with a smile.
The boy hesitated for a moment but eventually spoke. "When Harrison joined the gang, I don't know. But I overheard something about getting the method to drag souls. So, I think that's what Master Heinrich wanted."
Drag souls? Karl thought, his mind regarding. Could this be the method for creating soul bombs? He considered the possibility.
"What's your name?" Fredrick asked.
"Ludwig," the boy replied without hesitation.
"Alright." Fredrick leaned back against the carriage, adding, "No need to be so tense. It's sad to see a child like you in such fear."
Ludwig froze, sweat beading on his forehead.
That didn't help at all, Karl thought, remaining silent as a burning question gnawed at him. What exactly is a mutant? Do they have special powers? Are they like some kind of sanguine creature? He glanced at Fredrick. Should I ask him?
After deliberating for a few seconds, Karl took a breath and asked, "What is a mutant?"
Fredrick turned his head toward Karl, smiling. "Mutants didn't exist in my time."
He means before the founding of the human empire, Karl realized.
Fredrick continued, "Mutants are people who, through some means, have become tainted by astra."
Ludwig flinched, his eyes widening further, his fists clenched even tighter.
Does he fear astra itself? Did he experience it firsthand, or is it the fear instilled by the Ministry's teachings? Karl wondered, refocusing on Fredrick's explanation.