Decim

The air was heavy with the stank of rot.

Decim walked carefully as he stepped through the dark, dilapidated building. The darkness seemed to wrap around him, muting his senses, distorting his field of view. Vaguely, he could make out the faint vestiges of his surroundings thanks to the glimpses of moonlight leaking in from the walls. The room he was in seemed mostly empty—minus the fragments of rotting wood decorating the corners.

He took a step. The old wooden flooring groaned with a dull creak. The sound was blaringly loud against the suffocating silence. A den of rats suddenly scurried nearby.

“You’re here.”

The voice nearly made him jump. Decim twisted his head frantically, trying to discern the source of the voice.

“Keep walking straight.”

He obliged cautiously—only because he had no choice. Eventually, he found himself before the doorway of another room. Moonlight streaked in from a small window to his left, faintly illuminating just a portion of the space beneath. Below the silver lights, a person stood by the window sill, peering into the night.

“Kleine?”

“That’s me,” the person named Kleine turned around. Decim shuddered as their eyes met.

Pale skin. A pair of piercing eyes colored in crimson. An impassive, doll-like face. Their hair—long, white as snow, glistening under the moon’s illumination. Moonlight seemed to wrap around them, enshrouding their body in an ethereal veil.

An otherworldly beauty.

Decim would have mistaken them for a woman, if he didn’t know in advance the person he was expecting to meet. It was now obvious why Kleine requested this dreary location—with such a breathtaking appearance, it was impossible for him to not draw attention.

“My name is Decim,” he introduced himself as he slowly took out a pouch concealed on his body. At Kleine’s behest, he unveiled its contents. There was a small stone. Moonlight bounced off its uneven edges, producing a subtle azure glow.

“Five pounds of Azurite. Processed and refined. As you requested,” he set the leather pouch down.

“And the rest?” Kleine asked. His face remained unreadable, barely acknowledging the transaction.

“Stored safely under my jurisdiction. It hasn’t moved since that swordsman of yours helped us retrieve it.”

“It won’t be safe there for long. Steiger is undoubtedly looking for it,” Kleine said, “Rumors are already spreading that one of the syndicates stole something valuable from them. Given how fast the news is moving, this is likely Steiger’s handiwork. Both Aois Nua and Grenze are already reacting. They’re trying to draw you out.”

“I’m aware of that.”

“Then you should be moving it to a securer location.”

“I’m making preparations. But it takes time. The bottleneck is procuring more personnel to aid with the transport,” Decim admitted, “I need time to verify their skills and their loyalty.”

“You’re recruiting at this timing?” Kleine asked, dumbfounded, “All you’re doing is adding spies into your ranks. That is a mistake.”

“I need numbers to defend against the inevitable raids from Grenze and Aois Nua.”

“What you need is speed and secrecy,” Kleine’s voice lowered to a growl. “You’re still treating this as a petty territorial squabble between the syndicates. But it’s not Aois Nua and Grenze that you need to worry about. It’s Steiger.”

The air suddenly thickened with murderous intent. Kleine’s face barely moved an inch, but his impassive demeanor instantly turned cold.

“Perhaps you’ve forgotten since you’ve been left alone for so long, but the only reason you’re allowed to exist is because Steiger tolerates it. There’s no amount of lowlife rabble in the slums that would help you survive against their raids.”

Decim realized his hands had balled into fists. His teeth were clenched, baring angrily at Kleine.

Kleine continued, unfazed by Decim’s open hostility, “A missing Azurite cache is a national security threat. Steiger will not ignore this. The only reason they haven’t done anything significant yet is because they aren’t sure who has it. You need to cull your numbers. Eliminate anyone that might be a rat. Only your most trusted should be tasked with this job. If Steiger gets confirmation that Nostra is the one holding the Azurite, then consider all of your lives forfeit.”

…He’s not wrong. Decim clicked his tongue in frustration. Just a week ago, one of Grenze’s drug processing facilities was apparently dismantled by a Cleaner. Years of Steiger overlooking their operations had made him arrogant.

“I’ll keep your words in mind,” Decim hissed, reluctant to concede. His chest burned. The realization of who they were actually dealing with finally began to settle in.

Suddenly, he was having regrets about this job.

***

EMIL

Emil waited by the entrance, staring at the ominous moon lingering in the shadows of the night skies. Frigid winds grazed his arms, stealing away vestiges of warmth. It was silent. Oddly so. It was as if a thick blanket had been draped over the area, snuffing and muting all sounds.

Aside from the rats scampering about on the ground, Emil couldn’t feel any other presences. The buildings around him were completely dark. Even at night, in Lower Dannan, there would usually be the occasional candle light glimmering from the edge of windows.

Not here. Even the prying eyes from earlier had disappeared. It only exacerbated things, however, as his imagination of the unknown ran wild. Emil’s senses assured him that he was fine, but his instincts refused to be convinced.

Find this and other great novels on the author's preferred platform. Support original creators!

Am I being too paranoid? Barely ten minutes had passed and his unease was already growing unbearable.

The clocktower suddenly roared in the background. Emil nearly jumped out of his skin, startled by the blaring overtones. Wait— Without warning, he caught sounds scurrying from the darkness. Footsteps. They came from all directions, almost masked by the ringing clocktower. They were too heavy to be from the rats.

“Decim!” Emil called into the dark room. He suddenly felt eyes searing into his back of his head, “Decim! We need to leave. Now. There’s a bunch of people coming this way. Likely hostile.”

“They’ve finally taken action, huh?” Decim’s voice echoed from the darkness. Another voice suddenly followed.

“There’s a lot of them. Do you want a hand?”

“No. My partner is apparently quite competent,” Decim said as he emerged from the dark room. He glanced around, taking in the situation. A vicious smirk soon crossed his face. Emil wasn’t sure if he was insane or oblivious to their predicament. They were deep inside Aois Nua territory with no reinforcements.

“Let’s go before they—”

He caught the mechanical click of a drawstring. Emil immediately tossed his head back as he shoved Decim aside. Something sharp cut through the air. It struck the doorway with a sharp thud, etching itself into the wooden frame.

An iron bolt.

“Move! Move!” Emil pushed Decim forward. The two of them broke into a sprint as a barrage of bolts rained down on the spot they were just standing at. The moon was in full bloom at this point, no longer concealed by the dark clouds as it casted its ominous gaze upon their location. Emil suddenly felt very exposed.

“Don’t stop! We need get into the shadows!”

He picked up a rusted fragment of metal on the ground as they ran by—using it as a makeshift shield. Projectiles continued to pepper them from behind. The fragment in his hands rattled violently each time a bolt bounced off the surface.

There were a few meters left until they were out of the moonlight.

“Keep going, almost th—”

Something wet suddenly splattered against the back of his neck. Emil groaned. Pain seared from the back of his left shoulder. Iron teared through his flesh, striking bone—the impact nearly knocked him over.

“Miles?”

“I’m fine!” he screamed. The pain was manageable. He’s suffered much worse. What scared him, however, was whether or not the bolt was poisoned. I guess I’ll find out in a bit. There was nothing that could be done right now. They needed to shake off their pursuers first.

Finally, they made their way into the shadows. Without the moon’s illuminations, the accuracy of the enemy’s crossbows lessened significantly.

Emil tossed the useless scrap in his hands away as he tried to catch his breath, “How far away are we from the main road?”

“Just up ahead,” Decim replied curtly, lacking his usual chattiness. Still, the languid man seemed composed, strangely unfazed by their situation.

They were about to speed up when an array of torches emerged from the bend in the road. A group of men stomped onto the path. Each of them had the insignia of a cross coiled by snakes woven on their sleeves.

It was the symbol of the Aois Nua syndicate.

Oh, for fuck’s sake.

The men’s eyes gleamed like predators. Their mouths curved into a murderous sneer. Machetes and knives spun excitedly in their hands, eager to draw blood.

They were surrounded. Arbalists were at their rear, and these men blocked their escape.

Do I have to use my Gift? Heat immediately surged from his chest in response to his thoughts. Emil suppressed it. The decision couldn’t be made lightly. The moment he exposed himself as an Exalted, his cover would be blown. Decim’s death also had to be avoided—letting his boss die would instantly forfeit his Nostra membership.

No, I can still get out of this.

“I’m opening a path! Stay behind me!” Emil yelled as he rushed headfirst into the crowd of enemies. The Aois Nua men laughed, roaring with glee at his reckless charge. Unfazed, Emil brandished the machete strapped by his waist. He swung at the nearest man. Blood sprayed as his cleaver ripped through the man’s throat. His victim collapsed, twitching in a pile of gore, choking in disturbing garbles as he struggled to hold onto life.

The laughter ceased. The members of Aois Nua froze at the savage violence. The prey that they thought had been cornered suddenly pushed back with a frightening vengeance. Emil didn’t waste this chance. As the Aois Nua soldiers were still in shock, he lunged.

His eyes grew cold. Time seemed to slow. The noises around him became muffled. His body moved instinctively, flowing with a surgical precision. Like an efficient machine, he weaved and hacked, adhering to his Steiger training.

Decimate them. The witch’s whisper cackled in his head.

Squelch!

The unsetting sound of flesh being cleaved apart blared in his ears. Limbs, dismembered, flopped to the ground. Blood drizzled. The screams of his foes shrieked in the background. With cruel indifference, he continued chopping away to clear a path forward.

Something torn into his right arm. Emil ignored the warm blood splattering against his face. His hands felt numb. Nonetheless, he tightened his grip and brought the machete down. The blade carved into the shoulder of the nearest Aois Nua member. Unlike before, however, his swing was abruptly stopped. The machete remained embedded in the man’s shoulder—his bones blocked the cleaver’s path, preventing a clean dismemberment.

His right arm suddenly lacked strength.

Emil tried to pull the cleaver out, but the glint of steel flashed in his periphery. He ducked—a knife slashed the air where his head had been. He was forced to retreat. Iron bolts whizzed by as he leapt back, taking away chunks of his leg. He clenched his teeth, feeling the agony this time as the attack snapped him out of his trance.

His injuries were piling up. He lost his weapon. He no longer had the initiative.

Where’s Decim?

“Alright, that’s enough.” The man in question suddenly stepped in front of him. His languid expression was gone as his face glowed with a renewed vigor. His back straightened. His hunchback disappeared. “Who would have thought that a beast was hiding behind those intelligent blue eyes? Looks really are deceiving.”

Decim brought down his hands. The rings on his fingers suddenly glowed with a deep, cerulean blue. Emil’s jaws dropped. There was only one object in this world capable of emitting such a brilliant hue.

Azurite.

“Now sit back and observe!” Decim said as he lifted his hands. The puddles of blood spilled by Emil earlier suddenly rose. Rapidly, they agglomerated, condensing into a solid scarlet sphere just above Decim’s head. Then, with a snap of his fingers, the sphere of blood splintered into thousands of tiny needles.

“Pierce.”

The needles of blood quivered for a split second, almost hesitant—before surging forth with vengeance. Like a barrage of arrows, they rained down on the members of Aois Nua. Blood-curdling screams filled the night. Men were mercilessly skewered. As they bled, Decim seized control of their blood immediately, adding to his arsenal to continue the assault.

At his flank, Emil overheard the clink of crossbows. Before he could call out the attack, Decim had already flicked his hands back. A sheet of blood manifested from the bloody mist, coagulating immediately into a solid form.

Thud! Thud! Thud!

The bolts bounced off the shield of blood. As the projectiles stopped, Decim swept his hands, retaliating with another barrage of needles in the direction of the arbalists.

Suddenly, it was silent.

The corpses of the Aois Nua members painted the ground in a river of scarlet. Emil couldn’t help but wince at the gruesome sight. He was no stranger to gore as a Cleaner of Steiger, but even so, there were limits to what he could stomach.

“I think that’s it,” Decim said casually. He snapped his fingers. The bloody mist in the air suddenly dispersed. Blood that had been controlled by mana fell onto the ground with a soft spat. The air was thick with a ferric stench.

“Good work, Miles,” Decim said, extending a hand. Emil stared at it in disbelief. A deluge of thoughts spiraled in his head.

“You’re—”

“An Exalted,” Decim said with ecstasy in his eyes, “It’s been a while since I’ve been able to use my Gift. What a nostalgic feeling.”

He was evaluating me this entire time.

Decim’s Gift wiped out the entirety of the Aois Nua forces in the blink of an eye. His nonchalant attitude this entire evening suddenly made sense—as an Exalted, he was never in any real danger.

“So? Are you going to accept my hands? Or did the sight of a Gift scare you into disobedience?” Decim let out a shrill laugh, “Your savagery has earned my respect, Miles. Therefore, I granted you the privilege of knowing my secret. I’m an Exalted. One of the few confined in these slums.”

He dangled his hands in front of Emil once more.

“And here’s to our wonderful partnership.”

Ensnared by his presence, Emil reluctantly accepted Decim's hands. The foul texture of blood was caked along his palms.