The gang leaders all turned toward the man who had spoken, a pale giant.
They admired his courage, daring to question a noble.
They also pitied the gang boss who had brought him, such a reckless subordinate.
But they didn't realize that everyone's eyes were filled with pity, and no one knew who had sent him.
"Dorothy?" The pale giant seed surprised.
"Have you heard this na?" the young noble asked.
The pale giant replied, "I've heard she is a teacher, teaching the children of the Bloodclaw Gang to read and write."
The young noble smiled coldly. "It seems we've found the source of this rebellion. My foolish sister really is delusional, trying to stand against the entire world by herself."
"She's your sister?" the pale giant asked.
The young noble frowned. Hive underlings just didn't understand. Was this sothing they should ask? Dorothy was his sister, the sa father and mother.
Years ago, Dorothy and other newly-adult heirs of noble families were sent to the underhive for trials.
If they survived and returned to the spire, they could beco true heirs.
If they died, no one would care.
But Dorothy chose a third path. His sister, obsessed with books, voluntarily stayed in the underhive, teaching these lowly scum to read and write, because she believed in what the books said, rather than the teachings of their parents.
She was a disgrace to the family, a laughingstock among the nobles for years.
The only reason she had lived until now was that his parents wanted him to personally end this disgrace. He would kill his own sister with his hands.
But killing her outright seed too simple.
The young noble thought of a more interesting plan. Dorothy believed in the goodness of humanity, right?
Then he would destroy her hope. He would make the children she educated and protected turn against her, and then have them tear her apart with knives, letting her die in agonizing despair!
Just thinking about it made the young noble tremble with excitent. He could barely wait to see his sister's beautiful face twisted in hopeless numbness.
He asked, "What is your na?"
"Konrad Curze," said the pale giant.
No one knew him. The gangs only knew the Midnight Phantoms; no one knew who Curze was.
The young noble laughed. "You actually have the courage to question . I admire that."
The gang leaders looked on enviously. This young man seed destined to rise in one step.
"But underhive scum shouldn't have such courage, nor should they know Dorothy. You are one of Dorothy's students, aren't you?"
Curze nodded. Dorothy had indeed taught him a few things.
Although he understood those lessons more deeply than Dorothy herself, he still regarded her as his teacher.
She was a truly good person, a white lotus growing in filth and mud.
"I'll give you a choice," the young noble said slowly. "Die here, or take us to her. My sister may be foolish, but she's beautiful, isn't she? You underhive scum have probably never seen such a woman. If you pledge loyalty to , I can give you the chance to defile her."
The young noble smiled brightly. To do this for Dorothy, he had co alone, infiltrating to gather information.
This young man must admire his sister greatly and believe in her foolish ideals.
If he were allowed to assault her, she would be driven into even deeper despair.
And if that weren't enough, he could involve the filthy scavengers, the gang bosses, even himself, until she was utterly hopeless.
Curze said, "I can sll the evil on you. Far stronger than all the others combined."
"Even if you flatter now, it's useless," the young noble said. "Choose: a future of light, or aningless death."
"I choose the light," Curze said.
The young noble smiled. "The correct choice."
"Indeed," Curze's voice ca from behind the young noble. "My justice is absolute. You only confirm that this city needs justice."
Shards tore through his throat. The noble from the spire, the filthy mutants from the underhive, their necks were all equally soft.
This noble may have been well-educated and genetically enhanced. His physical strength was multiple tis that of an underhiver. He could, in hand-to-hand combat, kill several experienced gangsters.
But for Curze, killing him was like crushing an ant. He did not differentiate between strong ants and weak ones.
"Hic!"
The young noble clutched his neck, his handso features contorted in pain.
Curze gave him a gentle push. He collapsed.
"Kill him!"
The gang leaders were furious and panicked, pulling out guns and firing wildly at Curze.
A noble had died before their eyes; this could bring disaster upon them.
They only hoped to kill the perpetrator, offering his corpse to the nobles as atonent, maybe a sliver of hope would remain.
Curze deliberately lingered, baiting their fire. Opposing gangsters fell by the dozens in the chaos of crossfire.
No bullet or laser struck Curze, though his cloak inevitably beca tattered in battle.
It had been stitched by Dorothy and the other children, inspired by stories of Batman.
Now it was riddled with holes, stained red with congealed blood, crumpled into a ss.
Curze did not particularly like it, Caelan had not helped sew it.
Thousands of corpses fell in pools of blood. The stench crushed the remaining survivors' morale. They knelt, begging Curze for rcy.
"Please, spare . I have children, they're waiting at ho."
"Your child is born evil. There's no saving him. Soon I will send him to et you."
Curze rcilessly slit their throats one by one. He could see their futures, not just one, but all the futures he saw ended with them as worthless scum. They did not deserve life.
Children's futures were abundant, but not every child deserved a chance from Curze.
"None left alive?" Caelan asked, looking troubled.
"You should leave a few alive, to gather intelligence on the upper levels."
Curze could see the future. He understood the upper echelons. This city, ruled by scum, contained nothing but scum.
But Caelan was right. His visions were fragnted. He should leave a few alive. Curze nodded. "I'll rember. Next ti, I'll leave survivors."
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