It took nearly an hour and a half before Khalil slowly returned to the shelter. The fatigue and pain caused by overusing that kind of power are on the one hand, and the other factor is because he has collected a little information about his prey.
A hunter should always be aware of these things, and at least catch some traces... Otherwise, how can we start hunting?
Pulling up with both hands, he reached the top of the building. As he expected, the ghost was squatting on the top of the shelter staring at their rainwater filter.
He likes to drink filtered water with a slightly bitter taste, so he treasures the rainwater filter.
The cold wind blew and the rain poured down manically. The cloak could no longer stop such violence, and Khalil's clothes were already soaked. Nostramo on a stormy night was difficult even for him.
He was cold and his rain-soaked skin hurt, but it didn't matter.
There was a flash of blue light, and Khalil appeared standing on the top of the building.
"ghost."
The huge black figure squatting on the top of the shelter turned back suddenly, then rushed down, smashing the rain curtain: "Khalil! Are you okay?"
"I'm fine. Thank you for your concern, Ghost. Also, go inside... Didn't I say that you should stay inside when the weather is bad?"
"But..." Ghost said hesitantly as he stepped aside and came behind Khalil. "I can't see you coming back in the house."
Khalil's steps forward paused, and then he continued nonchalantly: "You can hear my footsteps coming back, can't you?"
"It's raining heavily," Ghost said. "There's still wind. I didn't hear you coming back just now."
"..."
Khalil didn't speak, he just came to the door of the shelter, then gently lifted the new door of the shelter up, and then pushed the door open.
It's a little more complete than its predecessor. Although the extent is limited, it is enough.
There are always few choices.
Walking in slowly, Khalil took off his cloak and tossed it into a corner. The heavy rain has washed away the blood, it does not need to be washed, and it cannot be washed away again.
It's almost broken.
The ghost closed the door quietly, deftly returned to his corner and began digging his nails into the wood. Seeing this scene, Khalil sighed involuntarily.
"Khalil?"
"Um?"
"Why are you sighing?"
There was an obvious caution in Ghost's tone, which made Khalil, who had his back turned to him, silent for a moment.
"...Because, my mood is more complicated now, Ghost."
"Is it because I didn't do my job?"
"No, no, you did a good job. I looked when I got back and every post was cleared. You did a good job, Ghost."
"But......"
"I'm fine, Ghost."
Khalil turned his head and smiled at the ghost. He sat on the shabby chair and saw the chipped tin cup on the side.
There's a glass of bitter filtered water waiting.
He reached out and took it, tasting it in small bites. His physical condition is very bad now, and he really needs a glass of water or a nutritious ointment. And compared to the latter, Khalil is still more willing to choose the former.
"Thank you for the water you prepared for me, Ghost." Khalil said. "Besides, our plan was a success, thanks to you."
"Really?"
"of course it's true."
"But..." Ghost said hesitantly. "I have a feeling that clearing out the outposts is of little use to the overall plan. The focus is on the Skelewerks, and they are your targets."
Khalil didn't answer this sentence immediately, he just took a second drink of water. Amidst the bitterness that spread from the tip of his tongue, he asked: "How does it feel?"
"ah?"
"Your first free rein. How does it feel, Ghost?"
The ghost fell silent, as it should. Khalil was not surprised by the result - he didn't expect a one-and-a-half-year-old child to say anything about it. This is true even if the child is more than two meters tall and can tear apart an armored vehicle with a wave of his hand.
Strength and mind are never linked.
However, communication like this is a must.
There is no real empathy between people, not even relatives. The ability to communicate perfectly is one of the most precious things humans have evolved, and Khalil will not waste it.
"I......"
Ghost stared blankly ahead. At this moment, his gaze was not focused on Khalil. He stared into the darkness, and the darkness stared back with equal intensity.
Khalil waited patiently.
"I...feel bad." Ghost said slowly.
"Because you killed them?"
"No, because..."
"because?"
"Because they will all cry." Ghost said with his lips pursed. "Khalil, they are not human, but why are they crying?"
good question.
Khalil put down the glass of water.
"Because of fear."
"fear?"
Khalil smiled slightly.
"Yes, because they fear death. Just like anger, fear can also drive people to do things they may not want to do. Let me guess, someone asked you for mercy tonight?"
"...Yes." Ghost whispered. "Barry, his name is Barry."
The ghost was silent for a moment, and Khalil just listened quietly without trying to interrupt or ask questions.
He has always been a good listener.
"He cried and begged me for mercy... saying that he was forced by the Skolewock family to oppress the workers. Just like you said, I asked him."
The ghost raised his head and looked at Khalil. He could see in the darkest of nights, so he could see the calm on Khalil's face right now.
"I asked him if the Skolewock family allowed them to eat cannibals, open butcher shops, murder, traffic people, kill people in the streets, and rob wantonly... He was stunned."
"I also told him that since he has accepted himself as a servant of the Skolywock family and has enjoyed the benefits, he should not complain anymore."
"Then, he said ... he joined the gang because he wanted to survive."
The ghost pursed his lips: "He didn't lie, Khalil, he really thought so. But why? Do people have to rely on oppression and violence to survive in Nostramo?"
Another good question, and one that deserves an all-night talk to explain.
"That depends on how you define alive, ghost." Khalil leaned on his chair and raised his head.
The clothes that were completely soaked by the rain continued to sting, and he could not take off his clothes, otherwise, the clothes that had become heavy due to the acid rain might peel off a layer of his skin.
Khalil doesn't have the extra power to heal himself now, and he doesn't want to use it for such a thing.
Furthermore, in his opinion, this tingling feeling was actually a good thing.
Pain wakes people up.
"Living, doesn't it mean living?" Ghost asked puzzledly.
"No, it's not... Everyone has their own answer to this question. Since you asked, let me tell you my opinion, Ghost."
"You can listen and you can memorize them, but don't regard them as your own ideas. In the future, you will have your own answers to these questions."
Khalil spoke softly.
"In my opinion, there are two definitions of living. The first is to be like a saw-toothed beast outside the city. It only desires full food, a cave to live in, and a partner to mate. Other than that, it doesn't think about anything else."
"The second one is different."
"Pursue delicious food. Pursue a home that can not only protect you from wind and rain, but also be exquisite and warm. Pursue what you love and your lover...and the continuation of life, child."
"Can you tell the difference, Ghost?"
Once again, the ghost gave Khalil an answer with his characteristic blank expression.
The ghost couldn't help but laugh, the sound echoing in the sanctuary. The wind outside the house was howling miserably, and his laughter was mixed in, but it didn't make people feel terrible.
"...I don't see the difference, Khalil," the ghost replied with some frustration. He was so easy to read, all the emotions were written on his face, like an open book.
Khalil was still smiling and shook his head: "It's normal that you don't understand, and no one would ask a one-and-a-half-year-old child to understand this, but I hope you remember one thing."
"What's up?"
Khalil spoke softly: "The man named Barry is pursuing the second type."
The ghost's eyes widened in surprise - Khalil described the second kind of life as very beautiful, which made him confused, why could Barry be related to the second kind?
"Actually, Ghost. All the gangs and nobles on Nostramo are pursuing the second type. But this does not mean that the second type is bad. They just used the wrong method, and it is very wrong. horrible."
"method?"
"Yeah, the method... we can't blame them entirely for this. There's something wrong with this world, Ghost."
Khalil raised his head, closed his eyes, and sighed slightly tiredly. His voice became softer next, like a whisper before going to bed or murmuring in a dream.
“Everyone wants to live a better life, and everyone wants to live with dignity. No one wants to endure the harsh environment of working in a factory for eighteen hours, and then drag his tired body back home, in a smelly and cramped environment. Coughing up blood in their shacks and bringing sickness to their families..."
Ghost saw rain streaking across Khalil's face.
"No one wants to endure that, and no one should have to endure it. But they have to. They only have two choices, join a gang, or die late at night."
"Those who choose the latter can only swallow everything, swallow the suffering, sadness, anger, despair... Some people have resisted, but their resistance is nothing in the face of automatic guns."
"It shouldn't be like this, Ghost." Khalil said in a low voice. "This world shouldn't be like this."
"...Are you sad, Khalil?" Ghost asked cautiously.
"No."
"But, you seem to be-"
"—Wake me up in seven hours, okay, ghost?"
"ah?"
"I need a break." Khalil opened his eyes and smiled calmly. "We have one final step to take in our plan, so wake me up in seven hours, okay?"
"...Okay, Khalil." Ghost replied in a low voice.
For some reason, Ghost felt a little sad at this moment.
But not because of Barry.
