There were thirty-six sentries in all.

Looking down at the night scene below, Kahlil calmly rubbed the forefingers of both hands against the blades of the knives that lay perpendicular to his wrists and palms.

The slight rubbing sound did not escape the ears of the Spectre, who lowered his head, glanced at Karil's hands tucked into his cloak, and nodded thoughtfully.

A howling cold wind blew through the roofs of the skyscrapers, and tonight, unlike in the past, it seemed a little colder.

A series of spires cascaded eerily below, and not far away was a seemingly empty apartment building, now in a state of disrepair, but that didn't stop Karyl from glimpsing the few details of its former glory.

Above the main body of the apartment, a handful of surviving shattered windows reflected the brilliant glow of neon lights, refracting an unpleasantly broken light, and a few shadowy dark figures flickered in the background.

The Old City was like this, more eerie than the New City had become, and without all those billboards from the factories....In fact, almost half of the Old City didn't even have electricity.

"Will you wait, Karyl?" the ghost asked quietly, his voice hissing.

Karyl said nothing, breathing calmly, except that his fingers were rubbing the blade faster and faster.

The Spectre gave him a worried look; it seemed to him that Karil had become a bit strange after that conversation with the 'Countdown'.

He didn't know if the change was good or bad, but he instinctively disliked it.

"No, we won't wait, Spectre," Khalil said after a long time. "But our plans will have to change."

The Spectre nodded softly, ready to listen.

"Along the border between the Old and New Towns, this group of Glory Dude scum have set up a full thirty-six guard posts along the way.They've even set up heavy fire machine guns, decentralized patrol groups, and sentry posts along the highway......".

Khalil grinned speculatively."It's flattering to be welcomed with such pomp and circumstance.Do you know what this means, Spectre?"

"I don't," the apparition replied."But what do you need from me, Karil?"

The apparition's expression was surprisingly complex at the moment - after a moment it spoke slowly.

"That means the Skolewalker people are arriving tonight."

"There's only one highway that connects Quintus' New Town to the Old Town, and it's unlikely that the Glory Governor will block it for too long.Other gangs that are also supported by nobles also need this highway to do their work......".

"So it's tonight, Spectre."

"What do you want me to do?" the Spectre asked again. "I'm ready, Khalil."

"No, don't ask me what to do, Spectre."

Kalil shook his head, "Everyone has their own opinions, their own ideas.You don't have to rely on my plans all the time to act, this is just a job, you and I are partners....We are equals."

The Spectre looked at him blankly.

"That's why I want to give you free rein tonight."

Khalil smiled slightly."Thirty-six posts, all yours.Way or no way, Spectre, I'll cover your voice for you.As for the Skolewalkers...... let me handle it."

He laughed softly, the sound escaping on the cold winds of the late night in Nostramo, like broken words or the lowing of a monster.

Then, with a blue glow in his eyes, he leapt down and disappeared into the blackness of the night, within sight of the ghost.

-----------------

Solo action.

Second time.

Free play.

For the first time.

The apparition blinked, his heart pounding, and he quickly realized this and took a few deep breaths, following Karil's example of deep breathing.

The cold, foul-smelling air entered his lungs, and when he exhaled, it was no longer foul-smelling and even turned into a warm mist that drifted into the air.

The Spectre didn't know what that meant at the moment, he just thought it would be fun, and it worked.

But thirty-six posts.

What am I going to do?

The Spectre knelt down and stroked the top of the gargoyle's head, which he hadn't named, not because he didn't like its corroded ugliness, but because of its mutilation.

It was missing a horn.

For some reason, the ghost didn't want to give it a name; he didn't want to replace what this gargoyle looked like in his mind with a code name.

With that, he slowly stroked the pitted surface of the gargoyle at his feet, and only after its bronze head was completely warmed by the warmth of his palm did the apparition open its mouth and say goodbye.

"Goodbye, Mr. Stone Ghost with a Broken Horn."

The ghost leaned down politely and whispered in the gargoyle's ear, "I'm going to clean thirty-six posts, can you wish me luck?"

The gargoyle did not answer.

It still stared down eerily, its fangs protruding from its bronze lips, its sharp claws rubbing the heavy stone cairn at its feet, not answering the Spectre's words, but the Spectre made a show of listening intently.

After a moment, it blinked and suddenly smiled.

The ghost patted the gargoyle's head affectionately, then stood up and jumped down in the same position as Khalil.

His ragged robes blew in the gusty wind, and the cold, condensing mist fell on his face, but he didn't even blink.

Soon he landed on the ground, on the roof of a house to be exact, and then he began to run, and this time his steps were silent and soundless, and there was a stretching power blossoming within him.

Jump-climb-stand and watch. In a three minute run, the Spectre silently reached the top of one of the towers.

Earlier, Karyl had silently taken him past all the sentries, and the Spectre had silently memorized the entire location and anything else that might be useful.

Caryl had said to be careful.

Down below came the subtle sound of conversation, two people talking, and the Spectre listened patiently for a moment, trying to glean some useful information, but came up empty.

He didn't want to know what methods he should use to please men and women, it wouldn't help him with what he wanted to do next.

So he began to move.

The Spectre moved with great care and caution, his nails not catching in the cracks of the masonry, but only denting lightly, even checking before each descent to see if the footing would actually hold his weight.

And fortunately for him, the materials used to build this spire were sturdy as well.

Soon he was silently climbing over one of the windows in the spire.The window was open and a long, blackened gun barrel was sticking out of it, along with smoke that was pouring out of the window and scattering in all directions.

"......Like I said, Bangor, you're really not on the ball in this area."

A hoarse female voice said hatefully.

"There are technical colleges all over Quintus, even if you don't want to pay for them, you can just go downtown and get a couple of guys, and when you're done you can sell them to a butcher shop for a profit.Why do you have to go after that shantytown woman? she's skinny as a fucking rib!"

"She...She's different, Knowles, she's different."

Bangor stammered back, "I think she's special, really, she's got great eyes."

"You fucking......all eyes are black!What do you see?Don't play the idiot here, Bango.By the way, did you run off to give her something the other day?"

"......"

"Answer me, Bangor!"

"Yes, I sent a smoked leg over to......".

"Which house's goods?"

"The Gertrudis'."

"Bloody hell, you idiot, the smokin' goods of the Gertrudis family and you're taking them to a shantytown commoner....The other gangs will laugh us to death.I can't take it anymore, I'm taking you to that woman when this job is over."

"No, no, don't!Don't, Knowles, don't you--"

"Don't what?You're not the brat you used to be!You're a Glory Dude's man now, and I'm telling you, Bango, you have no choice!"

Hearing this, the Spectre frowned.

He didn't quite understand what they were talking about, but he could sense an indifference in the woman named Knowles that he couldn't stand.

She didn't treat these workers and civilians in the shantytown as human beings.

That was something that annoyed the Spectre.

He didn't like it.

The Spectre let go of his left hand, his body spinning freely in the wake of gravity, the sharp, hard nails of his right hand leaving deep marks in the masonry of the spire, even making a deep circle as he spun.

The Spectre had no intention of hiding his arrival, but he still overestimated how quickly these two could react. Or rather, he underestimated what he could do.

The first second he entered the room, the Spectre had already strangled the woman named Knowles with his slender right hand, and with a gentle tug, blood splattered.

As for the man named Bangor......

In the ghost's line of sight, his expression had changed slightly, from worry and embarrassment to deep fear, and his mouth opened and closed as if he were still in the stage of trying to talk Knowles out of someone else's trouble.

"Goodbye, Bangor."

The Spectre nodded at him. "Khalil said some of you weren't born bad and just had no choice but to join the gangs, but things weren't quite the same after that, and we can't forgive you in place of the dead."

The Spectre waved his left hand and ended Bangor's life.

He knew many ways to kill, but he chose to give Bangor the quickest and most painless rest.

Thirty-five more to go.

He dropped Norse's head and wiped the blood off with his robe. The Spectre made his way to the spire's window, took one look at the pitch-black, long-barreled weapon, reached out his hand, and sliced the barrel hard with his fingernails.

He rolled over, sat on the windowsill, and began alternately using the index and middle fingers of his right hand to cut the very tip of the barrel.After half a minute, it had transformed from a heavy barrel into a sharp, pitch-black spike.

The Spectre grabbed it and swung the barrel as Karil had done, a sharp cracking sound flickering out; it wasn't really long enough for the Spectre's liking; Karil's knife was able to leave a long section of blade while fitting snugly into his wrist and palm.

But it was more than enough.

The Spectre smiled in satisfaction, then jumped down and disappeared into the night.

It was still a long night, and there were still thirty-five posts awaiting his visit.