Chapter 8 – WHO THE HELL KILLED AND LOOTED THEM
Nation: Great Void Nation (Ranked Second in the World)
Date: 30/5/670 – Void Calendar
Location: City No. 87 (Low-Tier District), Upper City
(First Person POV – Chief Darius Vale)
I took a slow sip of my coffee and let the bitterness sit on my tongue longer than usual.
It had been four days.
Four days since three of my officers failed to report back from a routine information extraction in the slums. Four days since their bodies had been retrieved from a cracked alley wall like discarded trash.
Four days—and I still had nothing.
No surveillance footage. No witnesses willing to speak. No Void residue traceable enough to form a profile. The slums were a blind spot in the city's otherwise efficient monitoring grid. No official cameras. No civilian cooperation. And the incident had taken place at night.
Clean.
Too clean.
A knock interrupted my thoughts.
"Chief Darius, I've brought the documents on the deceased officers along with the insurance paperwork," my deputy's voice called from outside the door.
I exhaled slowly. "Come in, Deputy. And tell me the families were informed about the funeral. One week from now."
The door opened.
Deputy Arman stepped in, carrying a stack of files under his arm. He was older—mid-forties perhaps—but age had sharpened rather than dulled him. His uniform was perfectly aligned, boots polished, expression neutral.
"They've been notified," he replied. "Compensation packages have already been processed through the treasury."
He placed the files carefully on my desk.
I made sure my coffee cup was well away from the paperwork before pulling one file toward me.
"It's strange," Arman continued. "Three First-Star officers. Taken down alone. No significant structural damage in the area."
I nodded slowly.
The retrieval team had confirmed that the alley remained mostly intact. Some wall cracking. Impact dents. But no large-scale destruction.
Which meant one thing.
"They were defeated quickly," I said quietly. "Ten seconds or less."
"Most likely," Arman agreed.
I opened the first file.
Officer: Sanjukta Parashar
Officer Rank: Newly Appointed
Star System Rank: First Mental Star
Talent: Minimal Electricity Generation
Talent Rank: F
Birth Family: Deceased
Marital Status: Married
Dependents: One husband, two children (Female – 4 years old, Male – 3 years old)
I felt a faint tightening in my chest.
Mental Star users were always valuable. Even at First Star, a mental-type with an electricity talent had clear upward potential.
Talent ranks ranged from H to S. Rank H individuals were typically capped at First Star. Rank F meant Third Mental Star was realistically achievable, and Fourth was within possibility with proper resources.
Sanjukta had potential.
Now she had a coffin.
"She wasn't just another patrol officer," I said quietly. "An F-rank electricity talent combined with Mental alignment… she could have been transferred to Night Watcher auxiliary within five years."
Arman folded his arms. "Instead, she was killed and looted."
Yes.
Looted.
Their equipment was missing. Standard-issue sidearms, emergency Void capsules, personal currency.
That detail bothered me more than the killing.
"Random gang violence doesn't look like this," I said.
"No," Arman agreed. "Slum gangs lack the capability. And they know better than to attack officers directly."
I leaned back in my chair.
Three officers.
One Mental First Star.
Two Physical First Stars.
All neutralized in a confined alley with minimal property damage.
"Either someone knew our plan in advance," I said slowly, "or our officers selected the wrong target."
Arman remained silent.
I tapped the file with my finger.
"They were instructed not to approach gang leaders or known high-rank members."
"Yes."
"They were targeting low-tier information assets."
"Yes."
"Which means," I continued, "whoever killed them was either an unknown high-level individual… or an outsider."
Arman gave a slight shrug.
"Outsiders are rare in City 87," he said. "Especially strong ones."
I felt a headache building.
I set the file down and rubbed the bridge of my nose.
"Three First-Star officers don't lose to a random thug," I muttered. "And they certainly don't get executed afterward."
"That part is concerning," Arman said. "Neck breaks. Clean. Efficient. No hesitation."
Execution-style.
That wasn't panic.
That was composure.
"Did we recover Void signatures?" I asked.
"Minimal residual trace," he replied. "Too dispersed. Possibly suppressed."
"Suppressed?" I repeated.
Arman nodded. "Which suggests control."
Control.
That word sat heavily.
A Second-Star?
No.
If it had been a standard Second-Star, the alley would have been destroyed. Walls shattered. Pavement split. Civilians would have reported tremors.
This had been precise.
Contained.
Efficient.
I stared at the desk for several long seconds.
"Was there any indication they activated emergency signals?" I asked.
"No."
Which meant the fight ended before they could react properly.
Or they never expected the threat.
I leaned forward slightly.
"Let's consider scenarios," I said.
Arman nodded.
"Scenario one," I began, counting on my fingers. "Internal leak. Someone tipped off the target."
"Possible," Arman replied. "But unlikely. Patrol routes were randomized."
"Scenario two," I continued. "Officers underestimated a hidden Unnatural."
"That seems more plausible," he said.
"Yes, but here's the issue," I said. "Three First-Star officers are trained to retreat if they encounter an unknown superior threat."
"They didn't retreat."
"No."
I let out a long breath.
"Which suggests the engagement escalated instantly."
Silence filled the room.
After a moment, I spoke again.
"Could it have been a Peak First-Star?"
Arman tilted his head slightly. "Rare in the slums. But not impossible."
"Peak First-Star would explain minimal damage," I muttered. "Enough power to overwhelm quickly, but not enough to cause widespread destruction."
"And the looting?" he asked.
"Practical," I replied. "Not political."
If it had been a political statement, the bodies would have been displayed. Marked. Publicly defiled.
Instead, they were simply eliminated and stripped of valuables.
Efficient.
Transactional.
I clenched my jaw slightly.
"Yet someone killed a promising Mental Star officer and two Physical Stars without hesitation," I said. "And we have nothing."
Arman shrugged again, irritatingly calm.
"It may not be our primary concern," he said. "Night Watchers are currently stretched thin dealing with the outer perimeter disturbances. Internal investigations can handle this."
I shot him a sharp look.
"This is my district," I said. "Three officers under my command are dead."
He didn't flinch.
"And you will attend their funeral. Deliver a speech. Increase patrols. Conduct internal sweeps. But unless the killer resurfaces, we may never find them."
I knew he was right.
That made it worse.
I stood up and walked toward the window overlooking the upper city streets.
City No. 87 wasn't prestigious. It wasn't a capital. But it was strategically important. Trade routes passed through it. Resource convoys moved nearby.
An unknown high-level Unnatural operating in the slums was a risk.
"Just when the Night Watchers are preoccupied," I muttered, "an outsider decides to enter the picture."
Arman gave a faint smirk. "Assuming it is an outsider."
I glanced back at him.
"You think it's local?"
"I think," he said carefully, "if someone that strong were local, we would already know their name."
That thought lingered in the air between us.
A hidden Peak First-Star.
Or worse—a controlled Second-Star deliberately suppressing output.
I returned to my desk and began drafting notes for the funeral speech.
"Increase patrol density," I said. "Rotate squads. No more trios in slum operations."
"I'll issue the directive," Arman replied.
"And discreetly review recent Void energy fluctuations in the surrounding blocks," I added. "If someone advanced recently, there might be records."
He nodded.
As he turned to leave, I spoke once more.
"Arman."
He paused at the door.
"Yes, Chief?"
"If this individual resurfaces… I want immediate notification."
"Understood."
The door closed behind him.
I stared down at the three files again.
Three officers.
Promising careers.
Families waiting for answers I did not have.
"Who the hell killed and looted you?" I muttered quietly.
And why did I have the uneasy feeling that this was only the beginning?
(AUTHOR'S NOTE:- i chosen the names randomly from Google so i don't have anything against any type of person or anything of the sort. Also god damn this chapter was hard to make. Also thanks for reading my chapters and please do forgive me for late chapters since they are annoying to make randomly.)