Chapter 3: NOX (1)

Ting—.

A few gold coins drifted through the air and fell onto the corpse as a door behind opened and someone appeared.

Carl, wiping blood off his sword, spoke without even glancing back.

“What about cleaning up?”

“I’ve dismantled the entire Mirial merchant group. Over the next week, we’ll absorb them through other channels.”

“Everyone involved must be killed without exception.”

“Yes. But it seems someone in Baikal caught wind of it. The head of that merchant group just came to the branch and offered to take over the vacant position.”

“Baikal merchant group, huh? That elder resembled a goat, didn’t he?”

“Yes.”

Carl narrowed his eyes briefly, gathered his thoughts, then raised his head and continued.

“He must be in quite a hurry. That old man dragging his heavy body here.”

“What should we do?”

“Meet him. I’m tired of annoying tasks.”

Carl pulled a black mask from his chest and put it on his face.

The mask symbolized the organization he had founded: Nox.

Every member was assigned a mask of different colors and forms according to rank.

As owner of Nox, Carl’s mask was the highest grade—Black—with golden patterns engraved on it.

“Baikal merchant group, huh.”

Carl smoothed the edge of his mask and snorted derisively.

A greedy old man. He must have smelled the money and come looking for him.

Not realizing it might be the death gate tightening around his neck.

In fact, the betrayal of the Mirial group head he had just killed was orchestrated by him from the shadows.

If the temptation failed, he’d have a long‑term ally; if it succeeded, he could simply dismantle the group and absorb its wealth.

But he’d changed his mind.

There were vermin everywhere; he didn’t see the need to shake hands with their filthy hands.

And now a fresh prey had come to him of its own accord.

Carl had no reason to refuse.

Chik.

Lightly spraying perfume to remove the scent of blood, he made his way to the branch where the Baikal merchant head was waiting.

The underground tavern that let no light in was a bar like those found anywhere in the city.

“…….”

Perhaps because it was nearing evening, the tavern inside buzzed with customers.

Carl observed the scene for a moment, then headed to the fourth floor where the Baikal merchant head would be waiting.

“I’m fully familiar with this place now.”

Within the mask, Carl gave a bitter smile nobody could see.

Screeeek.

Opening the door, the first face he saw was the most annoying old man.

Wrinkled skin, goat‑like beard, shabby eyes, and greed shone unmistakably inside them.

With a smile, the Baikal merchant head stood—but flinched when he saw Carl.

He knew the golden crescent pattern on the mask was reserved only for the head of Nox.

“…Black Label. It’s an honor to meet the owner of Nox, whose rumors filled the world.”

“Skip the chit‑chat. You said you’d take Mirial’s place?”

In a flat, modulated voice through the mask, Carl asked. Memphis of the Baikal merchant group smiled faintly and replied.

“That’s right. If Mirial’s group stops, your logistics and funds would be paralyzed—it would be troublesome for you.”

“And your conditions?”

“But first, I’d like to ask something.”

“What is it?”

“If Mirial’s group could betray so easily, it casts doubt on Nox’s capability.”

Does he have any way to prove his ability?

Memphis shrugged his shoulders and asked.

He wasn’t talking about money or assets.

Nox’s name had only begun to surface in a few years.

Whether supported by someone or not, they expanded wildly, toppling rival groups one by one.

A powerful competitor had emerged, and all eyes turned toward them.

They tried planting moles to gather intelligence, but every single one was caught without exception.

The loyalty of every member was strangely high; bribery or threats didn’t work—baffling to them.

Then the head of Nox came here in person, for unknown reasons.

For Memphis, it was a perfect chance to understand their nature.

“Do you doubt our credibility?”

Carl chuckled and nodded.

“We’re in the same boat. You were betrayed by a partner merchant group, and we were blindsided. We’re looking to sign a new contract.”

“Indeed. Well, Nox’s reputation isn’t going anywhere, but this old man has many worries.”

Memphis smiled slyly, serpent‑like.

He was waiting for Carl to ask how he would prove trust.

Carl had prepared every move in his favor.

This was an opportunity to secure the upper hand in the agreement.

A flow that spoke of worldly experience.

“It’s simple.”

“Simple? I’d like to hear that wisdom.”

“All one side needs is to hold everything.”

“What on earth…”

Shreeek!

Carl’s hand moved lightly.

A trail of blood followed the arc of his fingertip.

Thud, tumble.

The old man’s head rolled to the floor beside his puzzled guards.

“…….”

Memphis’s bodyguards, who had stood around with calm expressions, froze.

The situation unfolded too suddenly for their reflexes to catch up.

“Kill them all.”

Carl leaned back in his chair and said quietly.

It looked as if his interest had already cooled.

Memphis’s guards snapped back to their senses, but that did nothing to save their lives.

“……Guh, kuh.”

Sword, dagger, spear, hidden blades…

Every weapon that touched them inflicted a fatal blow.

It was the textbook method of an assassin.

In the midst of an attack so one‑sided the enemies didn’t even get to react, Carl swept his hand casually.

“Then handle the rest cleanly.”

There was no intention to tolerate further annoyance.

Overnight, countless blood winds swept through the shadows of Leipzig and nearby territories.

There were footprints of monsters trying to devour prey and flails of prey trying not to be devoured.

Dozens of lives were drenched in blood in a single night.

The one responsible was training alone at the Leipzig mansion at sunrise.

“Heh.”

The metallic scent of blood still lingered at his fingertips.

But on the surface, there was no relation between NOX and Carlos Leipzig.

So who would dare say anything to him?

Carl lightly swung his sword to warm up, then seated himself at the center of the training yard in lotus posture and applied the Primordial Unity Divine Art.

“…”

As he exhaled deeply, mirage‑like energy bloomed and shimmered across his body.

In the past, Mu-ak the Unkillable had been a master on the verge of reaching transcendence.

He had once assassinated an absolute master and earned the title “Unkillable” because no one could kill him.

Even though the level of Primordial Unity Divine Art was high, for someone walking the same path, it was not so difficult.

‘There was something to learn in this world, too.’

Just as there is Primal Unity Qi in the Central Plains, in Artenia there is a system for mana manipulation.

The mana system had its strengths, but compared to Primal Unity Qi, it lagged in many aspects.

It seemed that martial arts in this world focused heavily on external techniques.

Carl soon compensated the deficiencies of the Divine Art using the strengths extracted from mana manipulation.

Actually, instead of deficiencies, it was more accurate to say that differences in perspective allowed further development.

‘The single principle of the Divine Art.’

From the center of Carl’s lotus‑seated body, on the left half flowed black demonic energy, on the right half pure vital energy.

The ultimate stage of the Primordial Unity Divine Art was unifying two separately operated Qi skills into a single Divine Art.

Soon the two merged.

A complete ash‐gray.

A chaotic energy that was neither righteous nor demonic.

A unity of duality, the rational stage of the Divine Art.

Shhh.

The ash‑colored energy was absorbed into Carl’s baihui (crown) and nose.

From the rational stage onward, one could refine solely through the Divine Art without relying on other Primal Unity Qi.

This is usually something only achieved by reaching the Grand Master level in martial arts, demonstrating the difficulty of the Primordial Unity Divine Art.

Bang!

As he released the lotus posture and thrust his fist lightly, the void exploded outward, emitting a sharp sound of breaking.

“Hmm.”

Carl looked down at his fist.

Unintended, but a lethal aura had gathered at the strike.

After decades living as an assassin, every movement had transformed into a killing method.

His mindset was unavoidable.

It was an occupational disorder of an assassin.

As long as it wasn’t exposed externally, it was no problem.

But the murderous aura at his fingertips was something any skilled observer could detect.

“I needn’t erase it completely, but it must be separated.”

His core was that of an assassin.

He had no intention to deny the past life in which he sustained life by killing and taking life.

However, to adapt better in this life, he needed to separate Carlos and Mu-ak.

Clang.

Carl lifted his sword.

It was the military‐grade weapon he had favored even as an assassin.

He spread his legs and slowly twisted his shoulders, swinging the sword.

The Leipzig family had a household sword style called Fiore.

Compared to the sword arts of the Central Plains, its level was not inferior. In fact, like the mana system, some parts were even superior.

Because it emphasized external power rather than internal, it could not be easily underestimated.

Ssh-shek!

Fiore style was a swift‑blade technique.

With every step forward, three sword strikes sliced the void, emitting fierce explosive resonance.

It had been twelve years since arriving in Artenia.

Carl had already reached maturity in the Fiore style.

‘In Central Plains terms, perhaps around Seven Star level.’

The head of the house, Count Leipzig’s level was estimated between Star and Constellation.

If he achieved that by nineteen, he could reach mastery before adulthood.

But in this life, he had no intention of settling for that.

He would not stop until reaching the absolute master level, transcendence.

“Carl.”

“…Carius brother.”

Carius Leipzig stepped into the training yard.

Unlike the outward second brother Darius, Carius always carried a gentle aura.

Now, he smiled softly toward his younger brother.

“You were practicing swordsmanship.”

“Yes. The academy entrance exam is coming soon.”

“You were clearly on the verge of User‑mid, weren’t you?”

“Yes. I might reach it, but it won’t be easy.”

User was a stage in the distinction of sword realms.

Just like in the Central Plains where there are third‑rate, second‑rate, first‑rate, peak, etc., Artenia also had realm distinctions.

Beginner for novices.

User for trainees.

Expert for advanced.

Master for seekers.

Within each realm they were further divided into upper, middle, and lower to finely calibrate balance.

It was a pity that it didn’t align perfectly with the realms of the Central Plains.

‘Carius’s realm was definitely Expert‑middle.’

Carius was twenty‑three.

A senior student at the academy and a promising heir of the family.

Carl intentionally revealed only part of his own realm.

If Carl were a Sword User beginner, he might seem slightly lacking for a prospective cadet about to enter the academy. That degree of subtlety was just right.

“There’s no need to be impatient. I grew slowly in youth as well. You share my blood, so there will be a stage of explosive growth.”

Carius stroked Carl’s head.

The Leipzig family consisted of three brothers.

The first Carius, the second Darius, and the third Carlos himself.

Carl suspected intense internal struggle among the brothers.

Wasn’t it common?

Even within the same blood, to secure a favorable position in succession, elimination was not unheard of.

So he had prepared accordingly.

Alongside physical methods like poison and hidden blades, he had NOX in the background to prepare for politics, tactics, or outside power.

He prepared for every variable and monitored their every move to strike first in any scenario.

But unfortunately, unlike typical political families, the Leipzig household was harmonious.

Carl also had no desire for titles, so he kept the blade hidden in his sleeve.

“Hmm. Now that things are like this, I’ll give you a demonstration.”

“Really?”

Carius picked up a training sword standing at one side of the yard.

Carl felt slightly annoyed at losing his training time, but feigned excitement as his eyes shone.

Ssh-shek!

The dull blade whipped sharply.

Carius too seemed talented, achieving Four Star level in Fiore style.

In Central Plains terms, roughly first‑rate mastery. For his age, slightly behind, but still strong.

“How’s that? Did you see properly?”

“Yes!”

To Carius’s question, Carl simply smiled fully and nodded.

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