In a gorgeous room with soft light, Jando Skolevok smiled slowly, and then he put the pocket watch in his arms into his arms.
Just now, twelve hours have passed.
He turned his head, a look of regret appeared on his face. This emotion comes from the scene directly in front of the sofa where he is sitting.
His sister, Irene Skolywok, was standing there, her hands covered in blood.
As for the blood... it came from a hanged man, a former gang member of Crimson Finale.
Or rather, the last gang member to belong to Scarlet Finale.
His blood slowly dripped from the wound on the body, leaving an indelible crimson mark on the carpet that was still spreading.
Blood filled the air...
Jando took a deep breath of the blood-smelling air, then stood up and spoke elegantly.
"I don't think you'll get anything useful out of torturing such a madman, my dear sister."
Hearing this, Irene Skolywok turned back and looked at him.
"I also don't think you will end up well if you choose to stay with me shamelessly." Yirenai replied coldly.
"Oh, don't be like this, sister. You and I both know that only the Glory Overseer is reliable in the lower nest now. Do I really have to run out and seek help from other gangs? I'm not as stupid as Lena."
"She's not stupid," Irene said. "It's you who's stupid, Jando."
"...This is really a sad comment, my respected sister."
Zhan Duo covered his face pretending to be sad, but the dark eyes exposed between his fingers were full of malice.
"I have always had admiration for you, but why do you despise me so much?"
"There are many reasons, Jando."
Irene looked at him and answered calmly.
"Pretentiousness, pretentiousness, and pretentiousness... Although these shortcomings are normal for a son of a nobleman. However, there is only one thing about you that I can't stand."
"Hmm...because I prefer some excellent ingredients from the lower nest?" Jando asked tentatively.
"No, because you're stupid."
Irene Skolevok answered coldly. "You're stupid enough to think I planned this attack."
Jando raised his eyebrows slowly, his smile returning as he lowered his hand. At this moment, you can't see the fear on his face that he had twelve hours ago.
At some point, fear is time-sensitive.
"But, my sister... you can't deny that this is such a coincidence."
"coincide?"
"Yes, sister, let's not mention how that person bypassed the Glory Warlord's guard post without being detected. Let's just talk about the suggestion you made..."
"If we do what you said and spread out in the lower nest and escape separately. There is no doubt that you will be the one who can survive to the end, my sister."
"As for Lena...I am more pessimistic. I think she may be dead now."
Zhan Duo smiled gracefully, not feeling sad about the death of his fictitious blood relative, but instead there was a sense of joy spreading on his face.
He had changed his clothes and even taken a shower. The embarrassed look he had twelve hours ago had completely disappeared from his body.
At this moment, in this room that was so gorgeously decorated that it was no different from the previous palace, Jando Skolevok behaved as usual.
He walked naturally and gently and came to Yirena's side.
"My respected sister, I know your abilities, I have always known... My father's tolerance of me comes from the similarity between me and him, but his trust in you is beyond my reach. And You exploited his trust perfectly, didn't you? Excellent."
"Don't blame me for your incompetence, Jando. And don't blame me for things I didn't do."
Irene stared at him calmly. "It was you who decided to waste your study and practice time on tasting flesh and blood. You have ruined yourself, so don't say anything more."
"Maybe...maybe it is, but, my sister."
Jando Skolevok sneered and spread his arms. "I may not be as good as you in every aspect, but on this path of exploring the art of flesh and blood, you cannot be better than me."
He stretched out his right hand and asked Irene for the tortured blade: "Please allow me to show you something, my respected sister."
"I don't have time to waste with you on that kind of thing, Jando."
Irena said coldly. "Torture is only a means, not an end. You are on the wrong track."
"Moreover, the mind of this slave from Crimson Finale was completely broken long before the Glory Overseer found him. Do you think you can dig out the spirit of others from flesh and blood with just a blade?"
Jando shrugged, appearing very calm.
"Maybe I really can, sister. You know, I learned a few tricks of the Lohars family from some ancient books."
"…You idiot."
After saying these words, a clear emotion finally appeared on Irene's face - she glared at Jando angrily and spoke coldly.
"You act so calm and relaxed. Let me guess, it's because you think we can get more support from the family, right? Then you can go back and tell your father the truth you imagined?"
"Isn't it?" Jando asked. "There is no way the family will give up on us, sister..."
He smiled again, and there was a sense of superiority spreading on his face that he thought he had seen through everything. He blinked proudly and made the last word very long.
Yirena took a deep breath.
She spoke in a deep voice.
"No, Jando. This is not a conspiracy on my part."
"Father sent us here to deal with the death of the coroner. This matter has affected the face of the Skolywock family. And this matter has nothing to do with me at all, and I will never do this."
"The reputation of the family is more important than anything else, Zando. Father gave us the Iron Pride and forty private soldiers, and also gave us the help of the Glorious Overseer - a twenty-five-story spire with thousands of members. A gathering of loyal servants.”
"What else do you think we can get from our father? Our value is not as high as you think. Yes, my father spent twenty years training us, but he still has many twenty years to kill."
The smile on Zhan Duo's face slowly dissipated, and he tilted his head slightly, trying to stay calm.
But Yirenai continued, as if she wanted to reveal all her dislike for him over the years, and she rarely lost her usual calmness.
Her face was flushed and her features were contorted. It looked angry and scary.
Unlike Jando, she always remembered the encounter twelve hours ago, and the fear in her heart had swelled to the point of almost swallowing up her reason.
And Jando's behavior just ignited this fear.
"You took a shower, changed your clothes, and then sat in the false palace built by the slaves, thinking that everything was my conspiracy?"
"But don't forget, twelve hours ago you were just a loser who collapsed on the ground and was so frightened that he was almost incontinent! Jando! You are just a loser!"
Yirena sneered loudly, her voice echoing in the room. Zhan Duo's face turned blue and white, and he was speechless.
I don't know if it was a coincidence, but at the moment when her laughter broke out, behind her, the survivor from the Scarlet Finale who was tortured to the point of dying, also opened his eyes at the same time.
There is nothing in the dark eyes, no consciousness, no reason, no desire for life, and no resistance to death.
There was only an eerie calm, and then a flash of cold blue light disappeared.
He raised his head and looked at the blood descendants of the Skolaywock family. Then he opened his mouth with his lips cut off and many of his teeth pulled out, and sang softly in a hoarse voice.
Low, long, and obviously gloomy. The melody is soft, but it feels like a blade rubbing against the delicate skin of the neck.
Irene Skolywok shuddered, and her laughter suddenly stopped.
She turned her head in disbelief, the anger on her face gradually being replaced by fear. Zhan Duo's expression suddenly changed, but in just a short moment, the memory of twelve hours ago came back to him.
The killings in the heavy rain, corpses everywhere, the cold, the gaze of monsters...
In a daze, he seemed to hear that whisper again.
"run."
"no no."
Jando Skolevok murmured and stumbled forward.
Fear returns.
He grabbed the sharp blade from Irene's hand, tremblingly came to the survivor, and then raised the sharp blade high.
"Stop!" Jando yelled. "Stop singing!"
The survivor remained indifferent, his head shaking slightly. He was bruised and covered in blood, but he was chanting softly.
Jando swung the sharp blade in his hand, and it stabbed into the chest and abdomen of the survivor accurately, bringing up a handful of blood flowers.
Then, he twisted the blade fiercely, and the broken flesh poured out from the gap created by the sinister barb.
Jando's eyes twitched as he stared at it all, eager to hear the scream. He's used this little trick often in the past, with good results every time.
But, this time, no.
The survivors were unmoved.
The song continued, pouring out of the broken face like his flesh and life.
Jando let go of his hand tremblingly, and then backed away—and kept backing up until he hit the wall. He raised his head and leaned it against the wall, his face suddenly turning red after that.
He turned his head and asked with a low growl.
"Irene Skolywok, what are you crazy about?! Make him stop! I knew you did all this. You washed his brain and put this song into it. ,right?!"
His sister didn't answer.
His sister just showed an expression that Jando had never seen before in his life. Looking from Jando's point of view, he could only see the side face of Irene. But that's enough.
He saw a crying eye.
"you......"
In an instant, Zhan Duo felt cold all over.
He originally thought that this was just a conspiracy between Irene Skolevok and the Glory Warlord. Similar things happened frequently. In the history of the nobles, killing and killing was as simple as eating and drinking...
but......
It is impossible for the initiator to be so fearful when faced with a situation of his own making.
"It's coming..." Irene Skolywok murmured to herself. "It's coming."
"Impossible! Just follow the story you made up! That thing said twelve hours, but twelve hours have already passed!"
Zhan Duo roared and took out the pocket watch from his arms, and threw the valuable treasure in front of Irena.
"Look, look! Look! Twelve hours have passed!"
he screamed. "Stop this farce, sister! I won't fight for the black stripes with you anymore! I was wrong!"
Under Jando's pleading eyes, Irene Skolywok slowly picked up the pocket watch, and then she closed it.
She turned her head, and on her distorted face, a smile that was torn to pieces by fear was blooming.
"What makes you think..." she sobbed. "Can I do something like this?"
Jando's sanity was finally completely shattered. He roared and rushed towards the source of the singing, and pulled out the blade on his body.
------------------
"on the left!"
"No, no, it's the right side!"
The ghost jumped, dodging bullets.
If it were a laser gun, he might not dodge it. However, live weapons would always drive the hems of his clothes into his flesh, and if he didn't remove them in time, there would be a risk of infection.
This is quite annoying, after all, retrieving bullets can only be done after the battle. By that time, his wounds had long since healed, and the only way to remove the bullet was to cut open the flesh again.
Ghosts are not afraid of pain, but they don’t like pain either.
The conversations of the prey were extremely clear to his ears, and he could even simulate the specific location of the target at the moment just by relying on the direction of the sound. Khalil once said that this is a precious gift that ghosts don't quite understand.
Can't anyone else do this?
While thinking this, the ghost jumped high and jumped to the ceiling.
His sharp fingernails and his superhuman strength allowed him to easily cling to everyone's heads. Then, he quickly adjusted his posture and jumped out in the next second.
Like a monster falling from the sky, the ghost opened its hands and tore apart the gang's defenses as it charged forward. The wails were loud and the gunshots suddenly became weaker. Then, the ghost heard someone screaming.
"Behind! Behind!" the man shouted crazily. "There's another one behind me! God!"
Ah, it's Khalil.
The ghost tilted his head happily, then jumped up again. He concentrated on looking behind him. Time seemed to slow down at this moment, allowing him to clearly see Khalil's figure.
Flashing left and right, it was as natural as gliding in the crowd. Khalil did not dodge any bullets, but those roaring bullets seemed to be avoiding him, and none of them hit.
He rushed forward, swinging the blade continuously, each swing taking away a life, and a cold blue light bloomed under the hood of the cloak. He moved so quickly that the light almost became an elongated straight line.
Seeing this scene, the joy on Ghost's face disappeared for a moment.
...Why do you have to use this kind of power, Khalil? He thought silently.
Five minutes later, the killing was over.
He shook his hands to let the bits of flesh and blood fall out from the gaps between his nails. The ghost came to Khalil, who glanced at his hand and asked, "Where is the knife you made?"
"broken......"
"broken?"
"It doesn't last very long," Ghost said. "It broke."
"It's okay. I'll make you a better one another day..."
"Really?"
"I didn't lie to you."
"Okay! Thank you, Khalil!"
Khalil smiled silently and had no intention of attacking the ghost for the time being. The word "someday" has a vagueness that cannot be described in detail in the human context.
As for now...
He looked up at the ceiling, and the blue light in his eyes suddenly dimmed.
At this moment, his vision suddenly increased and he came to a room at the top of the spire.
He could see a woman who was sobbing, as if she had accepted her fate, and he could also see a man who was waving a knife in front of him, muttering to himself, covered in blood and looking crazy.
Both targets collapsed...
It's really not scary.
With a sneer, Khalil lowered his head and said to the ghost who was counting the corpses: "Our work is almost over today, ghost, before that, I have a question to ask you."
"......ah?"
"What do you think about fear?" Khalil asked softly.
Ghost blinked and quickly gave his answer. Although he didn't understand why Khalil asked this question, but...he had no reason not to answer it.
"A useful weapon?" Ghost said cautiously. "It works, it works for everyone... and it always works so quickly, most people get scared when they see me."
"anything else?"
"And...? Well, it...it - should be used with caution?" Ghost said hesitantly. "I'm sorry, Khalil, but I've always felt... there's a difference between fear and terror."
He glanced furtively at Khalil, who was waiting patiently, showing no sign of impatience or disapproval.
Then the ghost felt relieved: "That's it, Khalil, that's what I thought."
"Your understanding is very good, Ghost. In fact, it is very good."
Khalil smiled slightly. "Fear is indeed a weapon that needs to be treated with care. We must carefully select who it should be used on, and of course, how to use it..."
"Way?"
"There are many ways to instill fear in people, like you know those 23 different ways of cooking rats. There are many ways, and we have to be careful and choose carefully."
"I don't quite understand." Ghost said honestly. "But I will write it down. I will understand it later, right?"
"certainly."
"Really?"
"Of course it's true." Khalil said as he walked towards the exit of the bloody hall.
The spire of the Glory Overseers has a complex set of self-propelled elevators, which were destroyed by Khalil at the beginning. Therefore, although it is funny to say it, they have to take the stairs to reach the twenty-fifth floor.
The final layer.
Ghost followed closely behind, and after a brief silence, he spoke again.
"Khalil?"
"Huh? It's okay, don't talk too much, Ghost, we are working."
"Oh...but, do you remember the twenty-three ways? Which one do you think will be the most delicious?"
"..."
"I think the braised pork should be good..."
"well......"
"Khalil?"
"......Um?"
"Why are you sighing?"
"...Fry it, fry the rat. That's it, stop talking, ghost."
"okay!"
------------------
The cold wind was blowing, and in the early morning of Nostramo, a group of workers were on their way to work.
Their clothes were thin and their expressions were dull. No one's face was alive with life, and no one could walk with his head raised. They are thin and move slowly, and many of them need to stop and rest for a while even after walking a certain distance.
Eighteen hours of work is enough to destroy everything, not to mention the illness that comes with it.
Although, yes - the factory has a holiday every six days, but that's just to squeeze harder, don't expect the foremen to be very kind.
During holidays, wages and nutritional supplements will be deducted.
The cold wind was ravaging their thin bodies and wills, so these numb people spontaneously got together, walked side by side, and joined forces to keep warm.
Their breaths mingled with each other, smelly and dazed, and the white mist they exhaled dispersed in the air. Their eyes were dull and desperate, filled with a kind of indifference to life.
There were many gang members on the street, but no one paid attention to them.
——Such a person cannot even be regarded as a commodity.
Walking, walking, they still had three more blocks to cross before reaching the factory. They crossed the dirty streets, crossed the dark red ground where sewage flowed, and passed a tall spire amidst the curses of the gangs.
Then one of the workers looked up. His neck was sore and he needed this method to relieve the pressure on his bones. Then, just after raising his head, he suddenly stopped.
"...What is that?" he muttered.
His companions moved on indifferently and passed him. Not many people paid attention to him, only a few people stood there like him.
They all invariably rubbed their eyes after a brief gaze, trying to confirm whether what they saw in front of them was real.
Their mouths opened in disbelief.
They saw two richly dressed people hanging above the ground floor entrance of the towering spire. The neon lights of the spire and the nearby incandescent lights confirmed this clearly to them.
They also saw that there were large gaps in the throats of these two people. Blood was spreading down the gap.
Surrounding the two horrified corpses, there was a line of bloody characters.
The workers were illiterate and could not understand what it meant, but this did not prevent them from understanding the identities of these two men.
All nesters will learn this in their short lives and remember it firmly.
If you dress luxuriously, you are a noble.
The nobles are no different from gods.
At this moment, many questions appeared in their minds, their bodies began to tremble slightly, and a strange look began to bloom on their lifeless faces.
However, they did not stay long and soon left again, embarking on the road to the factory.
They need jobs and food. And among the few workers who witnessed the death of the gods, one person remembered all the shapes of those characters.
He couldn't read, but he remembered them.
The cold wind is biting, and the morning in Nostramo is still the same as the night. No one knows what will happen every night, and no one knows what this event will bring.
At the top of the spire, two shadows disappeared quietly.
