"Kill the outsider," Lysandra ordered, her voice as cold and unyielding as the steel walls of her office.

Nasar tried to keep his face impassive, but he couldn't avoid the slight curl of his lip that betrayed his distaste for political machinations.

"High Director Aleron has sent Brian on a mission," she continued, her dark eyes never leaving Nasar's. "I want you to follow him, learn what the assignment is, and dispose of him once it's complete."

Nasar grunted in acknowledgment, though he couldn't fathom why people went through such lengths for politics - hiding information, killing, tampering with reports. All so needlessly complicated. In his world, strength was all that mattered; be stronger than everyone else, then do whatever you wanted.

"How much will you pay for this job?" Nasar asked, scratching at the stubble on his chin.

"Usual amount," Lysandra replied with a clipped and business-like tone.

Nasar rolled his eyes, annoyed by the hassle but resigned to the task. Things had been getting more complicated lately, and if they got any worse, he'd have to take action. If only Darius wasn't stronger than him, he would've gotten rid of half his employers already - the ones who paid the least, of course.

"Fine," Nasar agreed.

He reviewed Brian’s file one last time. The man seemed so small and insignificant compared to the great game being played around him. But Nasar supposed that was the point. Politics thrived on the weak and the powerless, using them as pawns in an ever-changing landscape of intrigue and betrayal.

As he began to shadow Brian, Nasar wondered what the man's true role was in all of this. Of course, he was aware of the secret mission that Aleron had entrusted to Brian, he was literally present when the High-Director had given it to him. Of course that wasn’t information that Lysandra needed to know. And he knew why Lysandra wanted to get rid of Brian, but why was everyone so interested in this guy all of the sudden?

"Politics," Nasar muttered under his breath, disgusted. He'd never understand it.

But for now, he didn't need to. All that mattered was following Brian, learning his secrets, and then disposing of him as Lysandra had ordered. It was a dirty job, but if there was one thing Nasar was good at, it was getting his hands dirty. That is why he was able to work outside of the government; he was probably the only decimator who didn’t have to answer to the directorate.

Nasar strode out of Lysandra's office without a backward glance. "I expect you back in eight lums," she called after him. He raised a hand in acknowledgment, but didn't break his stride.

"Great," he told himself, striding through the halls of the Directorate building. "As if I don't have enough on my plate already." Nasar was wealthy, powerful, and influential - he didn't need any more jobs, especially not ones that involved politics and intrigue. He could easily overthrow the entire government if he wanted to, but what would be the point? His solars would become worthless overnight.

Stepping out of HQ, the city thrived around him, its various inhabitants going about their daily lives, blissfully unaware of the political machinations unfolding before them. As far as they were concerned, it was just another day in the capital.

***

Catching up to Brian proved to be surprisingly easy. Truth be told, the man was underwhelming in every way - from his too-large nose and insecure expression to the ragtag group he had assembled for Aleron's mission. The party consisted of a giant, a guy with an enormous forehead, a skinny boy, and a chick who appeared to be their strongest member. The others were mediocre at best, in Nasar's opinion.

"Can't believe this asshole chose this bunch over me," Nasar mumbled as he trailed them through the purple sands that abruptly transformed into lush greenery.

He was almost enjoying Brian’s interactions with his crew. Brian might be a pawn in Aleron's game, but he was clearly trying to keep up appearances. It wouldn't do to have his subordinates questioning his authority. Especially given that the giant one seemed like a liability.

As they continued to follow Brian and his motley crew, Nasar's thoughts turned inward. He might not understand politics, but he knew his job, and he was damn good at it. All he had to do was learn what Brian's mission entailed and then dispose of him - simple, straightforward, and effective.

But for now, he would keep his distance and bide his time, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

And when that moment came, Nasar Spriter would be ready – he always was.

Like an owl he watched from afar, his powerful valtite core allowed him to keep an eye on his prey without drawing too close.

He saw Brian cautiously approach a majestic creature with iridescent scales. Nasar had never come across this type of monster, and he was certain he was imagining this, but Brian seemed to be speaking to the colorful monster.

And then to make the scene even more bizzare in Nasar’s eyes, Brian, the giant, the guy with the huge forehead, the skinny boy, and the chick all scrambled up onto the creature's back. Nasar watched, unable to guess what could possibly happen next.

"Eight lums," Nasar thought grimly as he watched Brian and his group disappear into the clouds. "That's all I've got to learn what I need and take care of business." Time was of the essence, and so was discretion.

This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

As Nasar waited for Brian and his crew to return, he found himself with time to reflect on his past, a luxury he rarely indulged in. His thoughts drifted back to the day that had set him on this path, the day he acquired his Spatial Awareness Core – and the day his parents died.

"Damn," Nasar rubbed the back of his neck as the memories came flooding back.

His parents' lives had been nothing but misery, stress, and backbreaking labor. They lived outside the safety and comfort of Arcasium, working for the government as peons, their hands calloused and bodies worn from their efforts. The worst possible job, they would say, but it was all they had.

"Must've been tough," Nasar said softly and his eyes narrowed as he recalled the memory.

In those days, Decimators were few and far between, and the newly established Decimator Academy was still coming into its own. Nasar remembered the overwhelming excitement when his parents were assigned to help construct Fort Luminar's armory building – a project that they believed would bring them closer to the city and a better life.

"Almost made it," he sighed, clenching his fists.

The construction was nearing completion when disaster struck. A horde of grivaxian sentries attacked the site, mercilessly slaughtering two aestari and a decimator without breaking a sweat. In that moment of chaos and bloodshed, another decimator arrived on the scene – strong, but reckless… "Too damn reckless."

Light roared across the battlefield. Nasar flinched back as the decimator let loose a surge of power that blasted the grivaxians into oblivion. Nasar was held firm, locked in place by both the heated gusts whipping at his skin and his father’s hands. His pulse hammered a staccato beat in his ears, his breathing quickened to match it. This was power, raw and untamed.

A grim satisfaction curdled in his gut. It tasted like bile. The sight of destruction left an odd sense of admiration. It was twisted, but the decimator's strength was a spectacle. It was a ghost of a memory that clung to him, wouldn't let go, even if he wanted it to.

Unfortunately, that feeling quickly turned to rage as he realized the careless attack had also killed his parents. Power ain't worth shit if you don't know how to control it.

The sharp sting of that day's memory lingered as Nasar clocked the passing sols, awaiting Brian. Doubt niggled at him; this gig might not pay off in spades. But he wasn't about to fold. Challenges were his kind of game, and he wasn't about to let this one beat him. Not now, not ever.

"Get down!" Nasar's father had barked at him moments before the light-based onslaught erupted across the unfinished Fort Luminar armory. With his heart pounding, Nasar obeyed, pressing himself against the cold stones, shielding his face with his arms.

"Amateurs," came a disarming voice above him. The young decimator stood there, grinning widely, utterly oblivious to the devastation he'd caused. Nasar's eyes narrowed as he watched the man revel in his own power, completely unaware that two innocent lives had been snuffed out in his reckless display.

"Nice work, kid," the decimator said, extending a hand to help Nasar off the ground. "You've got some quick reflexes."

Nasar didn't take the offered hand. Instead, he lunged forward, driven by pure rage and grief. His fingers found the jagged claw of a fallen grivaxian, and he gripped it tightly as he surged toward the unsuspecting man.

"Wha—?" the decimator gasped, momentarily taken aback. But Nasar didn't give him a chance to react. The man was indeed strong, the first stab didn’t even penetrate his skin, good thing Nasar didn’t stab once. – Even the mightiest of warriors couldn't withstand such a brutal onslaught forever.

He drove the claw deep into the man's stomach too many times to count, feeling the hot blood gush over his hand. The grivaxian's claw may not have been valtite, but it was sharp and deadly enough for Nasar's purpose.

"Fuck you!" Nasar snarled between gritted teeth, as he stabbed the decimator again and again. Eventually, the decimator crumpled to the ground, his life ebbing away.

"Mom... Dad..." Nasar’s chest heaved with exertion and emotion. Blinking away tears, he rifled through the dying man's belongings, finding a small, glowing valtite core. The Spatial Awareness Core. The most valuable thing in Valteria.

"Fine," Nasar pocketed the core. "I'll take this, and I'll use it to survive. To make you proud."

With that, the young boy set off towards Arcasium, leaving behind his childhood and embracing a newfound determination.

He made it to the capital and no one questioned him or even gave him a second look; after all, he was just a kid who somehow managed to survive the chaos outside the city walls.

"Damned fools," he thought with a snort, amused by their ignorance. If only they knew the truth – that he was a force to be reckoned with, a soon-to-be top-notch decimator with nothing left to lose.

The valtite core within him awakened an uncanny sense of spatial awareness. He could feel everything around him with unerring accuracy, and he knew that this power would only grow stronger as he honed his skills. It was like he was sorrounded by an invisible dome and he knew the exact location of anything within. And the dome’s diameter grew with his valtite.

Valtite Cores, the backbone of any real decimator, he thought as he patiently waited for Brian to come down from wherever the hell he’d gone.

He could never understand how pathetic these so-called decimators were. They didn't even know what they were missing. But, Nasar knew firsthand that without a valtite core, a decimator’s chances of survival in this world were slim to none. It was almost comical, really, how ignorant they were. Being a decimator without a core’s power meant death.

Finally, the group seemed to be descending from the clouds, but something was off – the female was nowhere to be seen. Not that it mattered; she wasn't his target.

"Where'd she go?" Nasar wondered, scratching his stubble-covered chin. He continued to follow Brian's movements, unseen and unnoticed.

He saw the group enter Restview Station, the entire outpost was within his spatial awareness.

Nasar sensed a newcomer joining Brian’s group. “How ridiculous can this guy get? He got rid of the chick and recruited an old guy?”

A sudden wave of unease washed over him, and Nasar directed his gaze towards the horizon. "Something's coming..." A new problem had entered his spatial awareness and he honed in on the approaching threat "Chronovores... Just my fuckin' luck."

Nasar's eyes narrowed as he observed the group come out of Restview Station, his mind raced with thoughts of how the mission seemed increasingly tedious and unrewarding. He had half a mind just to walk away and leave them to their fate, but the promise of payment – and the possibility of unearthing some useful information – kept him rooted to the spot.

"God dammit. This job better be worth the fucking trouble."