The Crimson Finale is a Nostramo gang that is difficult to describe in words. Don't get me wrong, it's not about their terrifying appearance or cruelty.
It must be understood that these two qualities are a standard set for any Nostramo gang. If you don't have at least one of them, the gang will come to "fire" you itself.
Moreover, in terms of cruelty, they are far from being in the first place. Besides a large number of motorcycles and the habit of painting half their faces red, the Crimson Finale had nothing remarkable.
Furthermore, they showed no ingenuity in using motorcycles.
They didn't tie people to them to drag them to death, nor did they run over passers-by. They just rode them, shooting and waving knives. Compared to other gangs who also loved motorcycles, they were ridiculously unimaginative.
And it's difficult to describe this gang in words because now...
Well, now most of them were in a rather fragmented state.
Literally.
Kariel stood calmly in front of a closed wooden door, his hands lowered and hidden under his cloak.
He breathed quietly, almost inaudibly. The floor beneath his feet was covered in blood, which already obscured the thick soles of his boots. He stood motionless before the door, waiting patiently.
He was always patient.
Fifteen minutes later, two quiet sighs of relief were heard from behind the door, which immediately fell silent.
Kariel continued to wait, not moving. Five minutes later, quiet voices and the sound of boots walking on the concrete floor came from behind the door.
At that moment, Kariel sharply changed his posture.
He tensed his legs, thrust his right shoulder forward, and with a powerful blow, the door was ripped off its hinges, dragging with it the one who had come out to check what was happening.
He flew to the side with a scream, hit the wall awkwardly, and immediately fell silent. Shots rang out, but this time Kariel was ready.
The sound would not get out. In fact, the massacre had been going on for some time, but the gang on the other side of the street hadn't noticed that a slaughter was happening here.
"Hello," Kariel said quietly. His eyes shone with an icy blue light, making his voice sound eerie and low, like the scraping of a knife on bone.
He stood in the empty doorway, tilting his head, and was in no hurry to kill the last survivor. Blood pooled under his feet, the corridor behind him was littered with corpses. Pale light from the street filtered through the broken windows and holes in the walls.
Kariel had planned this angle in advance. He needed the survivor to see all of this.
"Don't come closer... don't come closer..."
There was silence in the room for a few seconds, and then a frightened voice and the sound of a protesting weapon, whose trigger was constantly pulled, but there were no more bullets.
The last sound was particularly clear.
Kariel chuckled, not rushing to press further. He could already smell fear.
Fear changes many things. It can make a wise man a fool, and a fool resourceful. Few can withstand the pressure, ignore fear, and move forward. But most inevitably become its slaves.
He slowly stepped forward, deliberately displaying his figure to the survivor.
The unfortunate soul immediately screamed. His imagination made him imagine what Kariel would do to him next.
He crawled backward on all fours, simultaneously grabbing any debris from the floor and throwing it at Kariel.
'Excellent. Just as I predicted.'
Kariel narrowed his eyes, and the icy blue light flashed in his eyes again. He stood still, not dodging. All the debris passed through his body without even touching the edge of his clothes.
All of it fell to the floor, into puddles of blood and torn bodies, raising bloody splashes and making dull thuds.
After a few seconds, a scream rang out again.
This time it was particularly piercing and broken. The sole survivor of the Crimson Finale squeezed his eyes shut and began to mumble incoherent phrases, waving his hands erratically, begging the vengeful spirit to spare him.
He didn't know that Kariel could barely move now.
'After all, it was too much.'
He frowned, thinking: 'I still don't understand this power enough. But it seems that as long as I don't use it too intensely, that creature from the world of the dead cannot find me.'
'This is an unexpected plus; I need to remember it and tell the Ghost later. He also has the potential to awaken this power... although I hope he never uses it.'
Sighing silently, Kariel, overcoming severe pain and aches, continued to move forward.
Now his gait was truly slow and stiff. This stiffness, coming from his own body and not feigned, made the survivor, who heard the footsteps and opened his eyes, scream even more horribly.
In the corridor outside the room, the hunched-over Ghost frowned.
The survivor, screaming, continued to retreat. His sanity was completely shattered by fear, and it was impossible to put it back together. However, the instinct for self-preservation still made him act.
For example, retreating, trying to get as far away as possible from this icy room and the ghost standing in the doorway.
Unfortunately, his back was already against the wall.
There was nowhere left to retreat.
And after that...
The vengeful spirit, standing before him and having wrought all this, slowly spoke.
...
"I still don't understand why we didn't kill him."
"Because... wait, let me catch my breath."
Kariel took a breath. He leaned against the dirty wall in a dark alley and bent over. Only after a few seconds could he continue to answer the Ghost's question.
"Because my plan needs a broken-down outcast like him."
"Plan?" The Ghost, squatting, tilted his head. "What plan? You didn't tell me."
"You don't need to know the details of this plan, Ghost. You don't even need to know its name. The only thing I can tell you is..."
Kariel fell silent again. He began to breathe deeply, but it was difficult. The Ghost saw his distorted face and sweat-soaked forehead, and this made him stand up.
"...that?" the Ghost asked quietly.
"Its goal," Kariel smiled with difficulty. "I let him go because I know he will trumpet everywhere about what happened to his gang..."
"And then what?"
"And then the gangs will know which area the vengeful spirit is operating in now. And those who didn't believe before, upon encountering such a living and insane example, will also begin to believe in his existence."
"But you said it's better not to leave witnesses, only a name at the crime scene?"
The Ghost walked over in bewilderment and helped Kariel sit down.
"Thank you, Ghost."
Kariel said this without rushing with explanations, but first thanking him.
Politeness is important.
"Both methods have their advantages. Don't get stuck on one; you need to assess the situation and use them according to circumstances."
"...I don't quite understand."
'If you understood, I would probably see a real ghost, you, one-and-a-half-year-old little monster.'
Kariel chuckled.
"You'll be able to test their effectiveness later. Let's get back to business, Ghost. Remember that woman?"
"...I remember."
The Ghost's expression became tense, and he asked quietly,
"She said I'm an iron golem with low intelligence. What does that mean?"
"You even heard that... alright, we'll talk about it later. In short, she's from House Scryvok. It's an ancient lineage from the Upper Hive; they have seventeen Counts alone."
"She was an investigator for House Scryvok, responsible for patrolling the Underhive, maintaining order in the territories controlled by their gangs, and collecting taxes."
"Compared to the gangs, she wasn't that important, but an investigator is a salaried employee... do you understand what I mean?"
The Ghost listened to Kariel silently and patiently, nodding. The phrase "salaried employee," upon its appearance, caused a wave in his consciousness that revealed to him the meaning of this and many other related words.
"And she's dead. I killed her. And Father from the Church of Tranquility and Razor from the Razor gang... and that member of the 'Knocking Teeth' whom you killed."
"'Knocking Teeth'?"
"Without lips, with a lot of piercings, nails, or chains on their bodies."
The Ghost suddenly understood everything:
"The bald one!"
"...So, on the eve of the Great Purge, we managed to offend House Scryvok and the 'Knocking Teeth'. To ensure the smooth conduct of the Purge, they will surely send someone to deal with us."
"This is an excellent opportunity, Ghost. We finally have a chance to kill someone from the high aristocracy."
Kariel slowly stretched his lips into a smile, and an indescribable joy suddenly flashed on his pale face.
"...This will be the first time."
The Ghost nodded and sank into thought again.
He didn't really understand what House Scryvok, the 'Knocking Teeth,' or the Great Purge were. These strange names didn't arise in his mind on their own.
He didn't understand them, just as he didn't understand how Kariel knew so much. In fact, in the Ghost's opinion, Kariel knew much more than he did.
However, some things don't need to be understood. It's enough to determine whether they are good or bad.
After a brief and cautious reflection, the Ghost came to a conclusion.
Kariel is right, and that's good.
However, he still had one nagging question. Kariel said that if something causes doubt, one should ask directly, without hiding.
The Ghost did just that.
He frowned and asked,
"But we didn't leave anyone alive before."
"...You're so fixated on that, Ghost. Alright, listen – murder is always a means, not an end. Don't confuse one with the other, and also..."
Kariel, sitting on the ground, slowly extended his hand.
The Ghost looked at him in bewilderment.
Silence.
One second, two, three... Finally, the famous vengeful spirit sighed.
"Help me get to the Sanctuary," he said. "I can't move yet."
"Oh."
The next second, the Ghost obediently hoisted him onto his back.
***
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