Shadow Pillagers, a very vague term for the higher ups in the Shadow Decree, meant a bigger responsibility placed on themselves. This meant that they were in charge of foreseeing expeditions, handling documents to be given to the researchers, and have a more active presence in the battlefield.

Sander, being one of them, actively contributed as much as he can in his role. It didn't matter if he had to undergo overtime till midnight, or dealt with the most idiotic of lackeys he'd ever faced, it was all in search for more power.

As dusk drew near, the sun was slowly dipping over the horizon. Sander still sat in his organized quarters, going through each labeled document one by one to assess their quality. He glanced at his watch, finally deciding to take a brief respite from his duties for the day.

He turned to the windows, surveying the city of Gyrate below, taking a slow drag of his cigar. The jackal's crimson eyes masked both literally and figuratively conveyed no emotion as he looked to the horizon. All the while, the slightest hint of a dark grin was present as he puffed on his cigar.