Chapter 434: Coming for You

Because they say, Nostramo needs light.

Because they say, Nostramo craves light.

Because they say, Nostramo, once had its own light.

They once had it.

That was the gift of the Midnight King.

That king, the first, only, and hopefully the last king in the entire history of Nostramo, the first to hold five nests full of thugs in his hands, the thug among thugs: he completed his coronation ceremony in the most barbaric way that suits Nostramo, and branded the Crown of Mercy on this land full of sin.

In front of all Nostramo people, this unprecedented monarch of the night talked endlessly about the legitimacy of his throne. He claimed that it was justice, law, order, and the necessary sacrifices of human evolution to a civilized society that allowed him to ascend to the throne of this world.

But he will probably never think of one thing.

Nostramo people don't care about these.

They don't care about justice, they don't care about the law, they don't care about the so-called dawn of order and civilization: this world has reshaped its own aesthetics in countless millennia of murder and corruption. The scum struggling in pain spit on the beauty of hope, and will never bow to a ridiculous king because of these whimsical words.

There is only one reason why the Lord of Midnight can be king in this world: because he is the incarnation of Nostramo, because he is the worldly projection of the endless suffering, sin, madness and self-torture in this world.

Because he is every Nostramo: whether it is a warlord who is extravagant or a poor man who is hungry, whether it is a scheming old ghost or a reckless and restless villain, they all dream of becoming the essence of absolute power and brutality. Only this purest violence is the hard currency on Nostramo.

When Midnight Haunter dragged his scarlet cape stained with blood embers, held the heads of all those who dared to resist, stepped on the uncrowned kings of the five hives, pulled out their eyeballs and spines, and made his own throne: no matter what he said, he would only be greeted by the lifeless loyalty of the entire Eternal Night Star.

But he did not understand this truth. He naively thought that it was his claws that penetrated the so-called justice and order in his mouth into the bones of every Nostramo: anyone born on this Eternal Night Star knew that this was just a delusion.

The Nostramo people just succumbed to their king. Since Midnight Haunter conquered them with pure violence, he could naturally take whatever he wanted from the world: just like those iron-fisted tyrants in history, who unscrupulously squandered the lives and wealth of their people to build their luxurious palaces.

For most of the Nostramo people, the so-called justice and order is just another tyranny promoted by the great tyrant named Midnight Haunter, but it sounds a bit funny and novel.

Since some tyrants like to kill people for fun, and some tyrants love to spend money like water to squeeze the people's fat, then there are tyrants like Midnight Haunter who like to instill the so-called concept of justice and order into his people. Isn't it normal?

In any case, since he has conquered this land and proved that his power is unmatched, all the Nostramo people have to do is obey: they don't need to work hard to understand what justice and order are, they just need to bow their heads and obey orders, and the king of midnight will be very happy.

Therefore, the so-called [Silent Order] that makes Midnight Haunter complacent in front of his blood relatives is not because his people understand the value of justice and order: this is just the way that the Eternal Night Star satisfies the tyrant who conquered it in its own way, and it is the way that the ruled Nostramo people use to please this powerful king.

They knew that Midnight Haunter conquered Nostramo: with his violence.

But they also believed that Nostramo assimilated Midnight Haunter: with its logic.

And Midnight Haunter actually believed that it was the ideas he promoted that changed the world: in this way, this idea seemed too ridiculous.

Therefore, the Nostramo people despised their king, but this did not prevent them from worshipping him from the bottom of their hearts: this fundamental contradiction was the greatest aesthetic art of Nostramo.

Their hatred was universal, but their love was pure. Although they despised the innocence in Midnight Haunter's heart, they also regarded him as the only monarch from the bottom of their hearts: when he was hanging high above the midnight, people hated the dead silence he brought, but now that he left this world, countless people would whisper his name in the midnight, missing everything he brought to them.

Death, punishment, silence, crown, and the greatest art of killing, the most brutal bloody execution, the most demanding and most efficient period of peace, and...

light.

…

Even the light.

Even the light.

…

The Nostramos hated the light.

Because it was the light that took away their king: in the era when they were ruled by the Midnight Haunter, the light had never come to this world, and when the legendary emperor, driving the dazzling light comparable to the sun, made countless Nostramo people blind from then on, and took away another of his offspring, the Star of Eternal Night was abandoned, becoming a world abandoned by its own king.

With the departure of the king, the tyranny of justice and order was soon shaken fundamentally: countless ambitious people despised the departure of the Midnight Haunter, robbed the wealth he left behind, feared his possible return, but in their hearts, they couldn't help but miss his pure violent figure.

They have been conquered by the omnipotent Midnight Haunter in their hearts, just like Nostramo, they despise and miss their only king with the most twisted emotions in the galaxy, and this love and hate affair even affects other things: for example, the light that took away the Midnight Haunter.

They hate the light because it took away their only king, but they also long for it because they believe that the next light will return with their king: as for whether the tyranny of justice and order will come to this world again with the midnight ghost, no one will care.

As long as the king ascends the throne, others just need to obey.

In the days when the king is away, the Nostramo people will naturally let the world return to its original state, allowing sin, violence and hatred to run unimpeded again. Everyone is unscrupulously releasing the darkness that has been accumulated in their hearts for a long time, while looking forward to the arrival of the next light.

Because they know that their king will return sooner or later.

Because they know that this world still needs its savior.

Because they know: all the desires and fantasies in their hearts, all the ideas and laws they practice at this moment, and all the awe and love for the Midnight Ghost in their souls...

...

...

——————

"It's all bullshit."

"It's all self-deception."

The boy muttered angrily, his speech was unclear, it was the taste of blood, snot and vomit mixed in his teeth, it was the result of just experiencing a brutal fight, knocking down countless opponents, and also being hit hard several times.

Pain, numbness, fatigue, hunger in the stomach and anger in the mind: none of these slowed down the boy's movements. He was like a shadow that had disappeared for ten years, crawling and rolling in the stinking ditch, and successfully arrived at his destination.

Then, he spat on the ground, licked the surrounding teeth with his tongue, and only after confirming that his mouth was barely clean, he looked around and quietly grabbed the creaking escalator in front of him.

This is an old building, located in an abandoned ghost town, a masterpiece built two or even three centuries ago. The falling walls and tall weeds around it tell of its desolation. The nearest human voice is several kilometers away.

It is a wild graveyard, but it is the boy's home in the eyes, and his final destination in this world: at least, starting from this night, it is like this.

Because the boy was expelled from the gang he used to belong to: it can't be said to be expelled, he and his gang members just had a bloody fight that lasted for half an afternoon after an irreconcilable quarrel, which can almost be called a civil war.

The good news is that the boy defeated all those who refuted him, and the bad news is that all those who refuted him refer to all members of his gang: including his nominal protector in the gang, and those distant cousins ​​who have some blood ties with him.

As for his parents, or any of his direct blood relatives?

Ha!

They should... exist, right?

But who cares: he had killed three of his cousins ​​with his own hands.

So, although he won the pragmatic debate, he could only become an exile in the face of countless guns and anger: and considering that his gang had become so powerful and domineering with his help, there was probably no place for the boy in the dozens of nearby blocks.

Although the boy didn't care about these.

The escalator was shaky, but it still took him to the rooftop terrace, which was a hiding place made of bluestone. There was a tent, several water pumps, and food he secretly hid here, which could give him peace in the long night to come.

As a [home], this place can even be called luxurious.

Because here, the boy not only has a place to shelter from the wind, but also food and drink, and even a group of friends: originally this word would be a ridiculous joke on Nostramo, but the boy is always the special one.

He is always special: even he himself noticed this.

He knew that he was born stronger than others, could run faster than others, had better endurance than others, and was more suitable than others to kill those blind opponents. When his peers were still fighting for life and death with wild dogs snatching food in dirty ditches, the boy was already one of the best killers in his gang.

In this world where death is commonplace, he may be one of the few lucky ones who has never experienced a life-and-death crisis: and in those few critical moments, the boy even realized a new ability.

It is this new ability, this power called [psychic power], that brought the boy unexpected friends: now, they came to celebrate his housewarming.

The boy sat in the tent and heard a noise in the sky: it was the sound of crows flapping their wings.

His friends are here.

"Food, food."

They called the boy.

"..."

The boy took a deep breath and finally adjusted his breathing. He fled all the way here. With the help and protection of the crows, he got rid of the gang's pursuit and didn't even have time to rest properly: but after half an afternoon of fighting and this battle royale, the boy still didn't feel tired, just a little breathless.

The boy stood up, crawled out of the tent, and picked up the best food at hand: although it was just some rotten bread crumbs as hard as stone, and walked to the flocks of ravens on the roof.

The ravens were frighteningly large and extremely strong: in Nostramo, these already intelligent birds certainly didn't mind eating humans, but the boy was different. The boy was their friend, a friend who could bring them food.

"Food, food."

The crows urged.

"Okay."

The boy responded, his voice was hoarse, which shouldn't exist at this age, and then he threw the bread crumbs in his hand to his friends, but these hard dinners were obviously not satisfactory to the crows. Some ravens came to the boy's shoulders and head, pecking at him like complaining, which didn't hurt, but made the boy smile.

"Flesh, blood."

The crows complained. To others, it was just an incomprehensible cry, but the boy understood the meaning. He waved his hand to disperse the crows on his body, leaned against the wall on one side, and continued to adjust his breathing.

The crows did not bother him anymore, but scrambled for the bread crumbs on the ground. Taking advantage of this free time, the boy raised his head and began to look at the scenery in the distance: there was a sound that was louder than the harsh cry of the crows, which almost enveloped the entire nest city, and no one could ignore those sounds.

It was the sound of gunfire, the sound of cannons, the horn of war, and the deafening shouts of thousands of soldiers and thugs fighting each other: in those magnificent and neon-lit areas in the center of the nest city, the noise of war has lasted for several years. Since the day the boy had his own consciousness, the central area of ​​the nest city seemed to have been erupting in war.

Even this morning, the long-lost small meteor shower did not interrupt the war.

But then again: when did Nostramo have a meteor shower?

The last time seemed to be when the Midnight Haunter descended.

...

But that had nothing to do with them: it was not as important as the current war.

The boy knew that it was a protracted war. It was said that the two sides were the old nobles of the Hive City and the last governor left by the Midnight Haunter: although they still did not tear their faces apart on the surface, proxy wars like this have been going on in full swing.

The boy also knew that although the war had been going on for many years, in recent days, the gunfire belonging to the governor's side seemed to be getting weaker and weaker, and in the dirty neighborhood where he lived, there were more and more gangs and families who kept announcing that they would join the side of the Hive City nobles: the victory or defeat seemed to be decided soon.

It was said that the governor had been confined to his own governor's mansion, and even the safety of travel was not guaranteed: in these most remote and sensitive backward neighborhoods, the gangs that were protected by the nobles were already eager to drag everything back to the situation decades ago.

Drag back to...

The days without Midnight Haunter.

"..."

They will let Midnight Haunter down.

Let him down for everything he brought.

Thinking of this, the boy couldn't help but purse his lips, and his eyebrows and eyes finally showed a touch of touch. He lowered his head, ignored the noise of the crows and the sound of artillery fire in the distance, and just picked up a charcoal pencil on the ground and began to casually draw a crooked painting.

He drew Midnight Haunter.

Long black hair, ferocious claws, bloody cloak, under the sharp boots, there were heads of criminals and blasphemers, they piled up into a throne on a hill, and Midnight Haunter ruled the entire Nostramo on such a throne.

"..."

The legend is like this, and the boy can only come according to the legend: after all, Midnight Haunter had left his country long before he was born, but at that time, his legacy was still taking care of the boy's generation.

In the first few years of the boy's life, the governors left by the Night Haunter had not disappeared one after another, and all the nests and streets were still peaceful, silent and orderly: the boy spent his childhood in this quietness, which was boring but also memorable.

But in recent years, as the midnight ghosts have left farther and farther away, everything has changed: there is only one governor left, violence and crime have begun to surface, and the peace of the past has long been torn to pieces. .

But only the boy still misses everything about his childhood, silently remembering the midnight ghost who brought all this, and the gifts left by the midnight ghost: Because of this, when the boy's gang preached that he would Joining the banner of the nobles, unable to tolerate this betrayal of the midnight ghost, the boy began his war this afternoon.

This is a natural war, and he fights for his true beliefs.

He is fighting for the Midnight Haunter.

The boy knew this.

The crows were still raging beside him, and the sound of gunfire in the distance was also rumbling, telling the story of the ongoing war: originally, these were just all the sounds in the middle of the night.

But just when the boy finished drawing his portrait and was about to close his eyes and continue to rest, he heard some new noises.

It was a woman's cry and plea for help, as well as the wanton laughter of crime in the night sky.

"..."

Originally, the boy didn't really want to pay much attention to all this. He just wanted to continue his rest. He didn't care about these so-called calls for help or the development of crimes: but soon he discovered that the voice seemed to be getting closer and closer to him.

"..."

When the sound gradually approached the corner of the building where he was, the boy finally opened his eyes and found that the ravens were looking at him expectantly.

"..."

The boy didn't say anything, turned over and went downstairs.

…

When the boy came back again, he dragged a man more than two meters tall: the man was already a lifeless corpse, and the boy had some scratches on his body, and his arms felt sore. In addition, Not even a single wound.

At the corner, the woman who had been bullied was still crying weakly. Without help from others, she might attract new bullies, or she might not survive the night at all: but the boy didn't care about that.

He was even a little confused: Why did that person only cry?

But right now, he has more important things to do.

"Save some for me."

The boy warned the crows and threw the body to them: Nostramo people are never afraid to feed on their own kind, and the boy at least has a better bottom line than his cousins. He only eats those that look good. It didn't look like human parts. As for the obvious features, he naturally left them to his group of flying friends.

The boy's Black Wing friends cheered and began to enjoy this fresh meal with joy, while the boy continued to lean against the wall, wanting to rest.

But in the next second, his brain seemed to detect something.

"!"

The boy jumped up, holding a rusty blade in his hand.

"who?!"

"!!!"

The boy's raven friends seemed to be frightened by his actions, and instinctively began to fly wildly. However, amidst the noise of flapping wings, the boy concentrated his attention and watched intently. into a dark spot on the terrace.

"..."

Wherever he looked. Apart from the panicked black wings, there seemed to be only the constant sound of the wind at night, and the continued sound of artillery fire in the distance.

Further away, the woman's sobbing continued, getting further away.

"..."

The boy narrowed his eyes.

Like a Nostramo lion preparing to prey, he bent his waist, held the blade tightly, and stepped closer to the place that made him suspicious: he did not intend to run away directly, because he was sure that if If the enemy he guessed really existed, he wouldn't be able to escape far at all.

not to mention……

He never lost to anyone.

"..."

The boy held his breath as much as possible. He did not want to expose his position more in the dark night. The extremely dim light at night in Nostramo undoubtedly provided him with cover, allowing him to calm down. Feel the enemy's breath: He felt the presence of at least one enemy, an opponent so powerful that sweat began to flow down his spine.

He smelled something in the air that reminded him of years ago when he was hiding in the wilderness outside the hive. On the night when he faced off against the most terrifying beast in the wasteland, the Nostramo Lion, even the ferocious aura of that kingly beast was far less than what he smelled in the wind just now.

Who is it...

There was sweat on the boy's forehead, but his pupils were twinkling, and he couldn't help but lick his lips with his tongue. He couldn't hide the expectation in his heart: he didn't think that the opponents in the darkness would be the gang members who were chasing him. , those wastes are not that strong, and he doesn’t think they are the subordinates of the nobles in the nest city, because this is not the scope of activities of those scoundrels.

"..."

So, as the aura became clearer, a strange but crazy idea began to appear in the boy's mind. His heart, which had never burned before, felt extremely hot, like the legendary sun.

The strong wind extinguished it, but it only made him more eager to try.

And it was also in this strong wind that he seemed to smell something.

"!!!"

The boy's pupils instinctively dilated a whole circle. Without the slightest hesitation, he quickly turned around, and the blade in his hand drew an arc of light in the dark night, and quickly stabbed in a certain direction behind the left: he was sure that there was a person standing there, a person who could be so close to him silently.

A person who was so dangerous that he almost trembled.

"Ping——"

Everything was just as the boy thought.

Behind him, there was indeed a person standing there.

The boy's attack was blocked: the blade was smashed, and his entire arm was tightly grasped by a big hand wrapped in steel. The boy looked up along the trace of this big hand, and found that his opponent was really ridiculously tall and amazingly strong.

In the brief light provided by the continuous artillery fire in the distance, the boy barely saw the appearance of this opponent: he was about two meters tall, a complete giant, wrapped in a set of dark blue armor, and the armor was full of lightning and skull carvings.

The giant's head was the most impressive part: he used his entire skull as his helmet, and the wings had scarlet decorations like bat wings.

One of the giant's hands was tightly holding a weapon that the boy could not recognize, and the other hand was gently grasping the boy's arm. He hid his face behind the helmet, but the boy could hear it clearly.

He was laughing.

It was a kind of ridicule: but it was not a malicious ridicule.

"A powerful kid."

In the laughter, the boy could hear a very slight murmur, which was a word different from Nostramo's words, but could be barely recognized. Then, he found that the giant raised his head and said something behind the boy.

"Hey."

"This is a good seedling."

"..."

"Indeed."

The boy blinked, and before he could react, he felt another big hand patting his shoulder: it was from another person behind him, another giant.

"I haven't seen such a good seedling for a long time, Barbatos."

The giant behind the boy was also responding to his companions with vague words. They seemed to be joking with each other, but the boy couldn't understand more words. He just raised his head and looked at the two giants wrapped in dark blue armor with a kind of confusion and excitement that he had never had before.

For the first time, his ears fell into such a quiet atmosphere: whether it was the rumbling artillery fire, the manic hurricane, or the cry of the woman in the distance, they had all disappeared at this moment. The boy just stared at the two giants blankly, and he almost talked to himself and asked a question.

"You..."

The giants looked at him, and the boy couldn't help swallowing.

"Are you the companions of the Midnight Ghost?"

The boy looked at the giants expectantly, eager for a positive answer: he knew very well that this was probably just his delusion, but he still asked it involuntarily.

"..."

The giants were stunned by the boy's question, then raised their heads and looked at each other: then, they laughed.

"I guess so."

The giant attacked by the boy nodded at him with laughter: the boy who nodded almost fell into ecstasy.

"Is the Midnight Ghost coming back?"

"..."

Faced with the boy's desire, the giant just tilted his head.

"I can't answer this question."

Then, he leaned down and carefully looked at the boy's body from left to right, just like those nest nobles selecting their dead soldiers. The giant's eyes kept inspecting the boy's arms and chest, and he didn't forget to ask him some new questions.

"To be honest, I didn't expect that I could be discovered by you. Although it was so close, you are just a mortal after all, and a young boy: this kind of observation ability is too scary."

"Don't brag here, Barbatos."

Before the boy answered the question of the giant in front of him, the giant standing behind him began to mock his companion loudly.

"Maybe your lurking skills are not as good as you boasted, even a little guy like this can find your whereabouts: Am I right, little guy, you found out his mediocre skills from the beginning?"

"..."

With this question, the two giants focused their eyes on the boy, and the boy's eyes shuttled back and forth between the two of them, then pursed his lips and stretched out his finger to point at his head.

"At the beginning..."

He said.

"I just felt that someone was using psychic power to spy on me."

"..."

The giants were silent.

"..."

"..."

The next moment, Enric Barbatos, a Terran veteran of the Eighth Legion and a famous stealth master, turned his head and looked at his own comrade, Fel-Zarost, the famous elite think tank in the Eighth Legion: that is, the mediocre one whose psychic traces were discovered.

At this moment, the faces of ridicule and embarrassment still corresponded to each other, but they just quietly switched positions: Barbatos, who had just been ridiculed, began to sneer mercilessly, clenched his fist and punched his think tank companion on the chest.

"Honestly, Zharost."

"You didn't pass the Psychic Codex test by cheating, did you?"

"..."

"Shut up!"

The two giants joked with each other without any seriousness, and it was not until a few seconds later that the situation stopped. They focused their attention on the boy again. Obviously, this extremely talented seedling had been regarded as the Eighth Legion's possession.

"Originally, we were just following the order of the Father of Genes to check the spot."

Because the giant of Barbatos shook his head there, constantly sighing.

"I didn't expect there would be an unexpected surprise: it's worth our running around for a whole day and observing you for half an afternoon. You are really a surprise."

"Father of Genes..."

This word that he had never heard of immediately attracted the boy's attention, and the giant in front of him just patted his shoulder, as if he had already regarded him as a member.

"A word you definitely don't know now, little guy: but don't worry, you will soon know what this word means, it won't be long, and soon, the world will usher in some huge changes."

"..."

The boy licked his lips, his sharp mind had already realized the meaning of this sentence.

"Are you... coming for this world?"

"I guess so."

The giant nodded.

"But you can also think so."

"We are here for you, kid."

He seemed to smile.

"Now, do you mind telling me what your name is?"

"..."

The boy blinked, he had already straightened his chest fearlessly and stood in front of the two giants: when he said his name, suddenly, the giants seemed to see a soul worthy of respect.

"My name is Yago."

"Yago-Sevitarion."