The people of Nulith… Beings born to survive on a planet where nothing grows. Their only nourishment comes from hardened Mercurian minerals, silica-enriched rock crusts, or crushed volcanic concretions extracted from the depths.
Here, days stretch endlessly under an unforgiving, searing heat. The nights? Just as interminable. An infernal cycle that, for generations, forged a single rule: keep moving. Always.
The Nulithians were nomads, wandering constantly through the burning lands to keep their skin bathed in sunlight—a sacred strategy to resist the thermal engulfment of the darkness.
But that journey has ended. The solar dance has stopped. Now, they live in an underground village.
On the surface, rough structures, hastily carved from salvaged materials, form a hollow crown—empty on purpose, built to trick. To convince outsiders that life still exists above.
Surrounding it all is a detection field. It senses everything—from heartbeats to the vibration of a grain of sand moved by breath. Even a fleeing thermal moth couldn't escape unnoticed.
All this, of course, for one reason: to fool the Terrans.
— Me, Ashan? I'm no puppet.
— Can you shut up already? growled the guard.
— Maybe it's that infamous human madness they told us about, muttered his colleague.
— Crazy or not, he's stopping me from finishing my book. That, I can't forgive.
"Tut tut," went the intercom on the guard's shoulder.
An order came through—one strong enough to make the lower levels of Nulith tremble.
— What? Haha... About time. He was getting on my last nerve.
— Hey, dirtbag, your sentence has dropped. The king didn't waste time, huh?
Our hero froze. A breath caught in his throat, his vision blurred, and his thoughts scattered.
— I'm... sentenced to death? You're joking…
— You think royal orders are a joke? Sure, he's a pain sometimes, but show some damn respect.
— And let's be honest—you asked for it. Interrupting people during their reading sessions! Who gave you the right to mess with my book time?
— What did I do to deserve this? Is the game already over…?
— Oh wow, really? After your species slaughtered ours just to keep your little world spinning, you step on our land and ask why we're killing you? Ever heard of vengeance, bro?
— Fine. Since you're dying anyway, I'll spell it out: you'll serve the king one last time. As a warning to those terrorist bastards demanding his resignation. And a distraction from some... inconvenient news floating around about him.
— And you still serve him blindly? Don't you care about your people?
— Oh, please. That manipulation act? Try harder. I've done 354 missions. You think your little speech'll shake me? Find another angle, pal.
— No. Answer me. What does the king offer that's worth more than your people's well-being?
— Here's what you're gonna do: shut up and sit still. One more word that's not an order from me, and I'll move your execution up to right here.
— Okay, veteran. Thanks for the tip. Change of plans: if you don't let me go, I'll kill myself. And your little public show? Ruined. So... how's that for a deal?
— Hahaha, do you think we're idiots? Now that you know your fate, you think we'd leave you awake in your cell with full freedom of movement?
Melo. Give me the Spasmire. We've got a wriggler to paralyze.
— Wait, wait, wait... How about we...
Two hours later, we're at Nulith's execution site, located on the surface. Why? Perhaps to avoid executing a "contaminated" being near Nulithian homes.
Today, our boy is escorted by Nulith's bulkiest guards—each three meters tall. Fighting back wouldn't save him. And he knows it.
But if you've met Ashan by now, you know he doesn't quit that easily.
He spat his stomach acid into the eyes of both guards—a corrosive substance brewed in the belly of a starved teen who'd just received his last pre-incarceration meal. It burned.
The distraction lasted mere microseconds—enough for Ashan to blend into the crowd.
But spotting a 1.60-meter-tall human among Mercurians wasn't hard.
Just before being recaptured, Ashan knocked over an elderly Nulithian, pinned him down with his leg, and shouted:
— Free me, or I kill him!
The crowd stirred in panic.
— Stay calm, citizens! The Nulithian people will not be shaken by a human! We are superior! shouted King Ormon Krell from his throne.
— Guards! Stop this Terran and make sure the poor old man isn't harmed. That elder has a family, a story, a life... And you'd rip it away like he was nothing? His life is worth more than your freedom, Terran!
— Yes, Your Majesty! the guards answered.
— Long live King Ormon Krell! cried much of the audience, ignited by the king's words.
The guards rushed in, subdued Ashan, and rescued the old man. The public execution continued.
Ashan was executed for violating Article 17 of the Interstellar Interaction Code: illegal entry into Nulithian territory by a Terran. He was also convicted of assaulting royal guards and attempted homicide against a Nulithian citizen.