Days flowed quietly into one another, and before anyone realized it, Knox had already stepped into a new chapter of his life. Knox's life took a sharp turn—not toward priesthood, not toward Kizen, but toward something far more chaotic and strangely fitting for him.
He became a bounty hunter.
Not the shady kind who would take any job for the right price. No—Knox only hunted criminals. Real ones. Murderers, traffickers, rogue necromancers, corrupted priests. The scum-of-the-earth type. It didn't take long for admiration to grow around his name. Even within the far-reaching networks of the Dark Alliance and the Holy Federation, whispers about a certain white-haired boy began circling from city to city.
His name spread fast across taverns, guild halls, and even noble estates. Neutral Zone merchants adored him. Dark Alliance nobles whispered his name with interest. Even the ever-watchful Holy Federation started putting him on "persons of interest" reports—not as an enemy, but more like, "please keep an eye on this kid, he's doing too well."
And one incident in particular sealed it.
A convoy of Dark Alliance nobles was traveling through the western ridge—six carriages, escorted by necromancer-guards and bone-construct soldiers. A comfortable formation, strong enough to deter most threats.
But not that day.
A criminal gang—a mix of rogue necromancers and outlaw priests—ambushed them. They overwhelmed the guards quickly, snapping the front line like dry twigs. Their goal was simple:
Rob them. Capture them. Ransom them. Profit.
Screams echoed across the rocky pass, bone soldiers burst into powdery shards, and the nobles huddled inside their carriages, waiting for the inevitable.
And then—
a white streak came down from the sky.
A blur, no larger than a person, crashed into one of the rogue priests, dropping him instantly with a single blow. Shock rippled across the battlefield as heads snapped upward.
Knox stood there, coat fluttering, white hair catching the wind.
He dove in from above like a falling star, heel slamming onto the first criminal's head with a thunderous crack. Before the others could even register what happened, he was already moving—faster than human eyes could follow, faster than he should logically be able to move.
Like a certain masked ace pilot from another universe, Knox moved at triple speed, a blur of white hair and controlled killing intent.
Spells were thrown at him.
Projectiles flew.
Bone spears erupted from the ground.
He slipped through all of them, weaving effortlessly as if he already knew where each attack would land. Every time he passed by a criminal—someone dropped.
He didn't even slow down.
By the time his boots finally touched the ground, the entire gang lay scattered across the pass—unconscious, bleeding, but alive enough for the bounties to be claimed.
Silence followed.
The nobles peeked out, stunned.
And in the middle of the road stood a young man—barely grown, strikingly handsome, white hair glowing faintly under the sun, and expression annoyingly calm for someone who just dismantled a criminal squad in under ten seconds.
That moment birthed a rumor.
The rumor became a story.
The story became a title.
The White Comet, another niclname added to Knox's name.
A comet who fell from the sky and ended battles before they even began.
And from that day on, everywhere Knox went—people whispered.
Nobles remembered.
Some feared him.
Others admired him.
Many wanted to recruit him.
And Knox?
He was just wondering where to find good breakfast next.
Not only was he famous as a bounty hunter, but Knox also managed to accomplish the other goal he'd casually tossed out back then: becoming a novelist—a successful one, at that.
Readers across the continent widened their eyes the moment they cracked open his books. Every release felt like someone had dropped a lightning bolt into the literary world.
Of course, Knox was shameless about it. He simply rewrote the masterpieces from his previous world—Death Note, Murder on the Orient Express, Your Lie in April, Your Name, Fate/stay night, and many more—each one a completely different genre, each one causing another explosion of fame.
Somehow, his books even slipped into the Holy Federation, landing right into the hands of two very familiar Saintesses.
Naturally, Knox wasn't planning to stop. He was already thinking about turning timeless fairytales into his "original works"—The Little Prince, The Little Mermaid, The Little Match Girl, and more. He figured if he kept switching genres, people would never be able to predict what he'd release next.
Eventually, some sharp-eyed individuals finally realized something odd: the author's name printed on the covers was exactly the same as the rising star bounty hunter—Knox Aznable.
And once the information was confirmed, the world shook again.
His list of nicknames grew longer overnight.
White Devil. White Comet. Genius Writer.
And whenever one nickname spread, the others inevitably followed, until the whole continent couldn't stop talking about the boy with white hair who wrote bestsellers in the morning and hunted criminals before dinner.
Without even realizing it, three years had slipped by since Knox last saw the two saintesses.
In those three years, he'd been through quite a lot—and collected quite a lot as well.
Nicknames, for one. Apparently, people loved giving him those. White Comet, White Devil, Genius Writer… honestly, if this continued, he might need to hire someone just to keep track of them.
Still, while stacking wealth and public reputation, Knox never stopped growing stronger. His shadow army, for example, had recently gained another "named character" from Solo Leveling—the Ant King, Beru. And of course, Beru didn't come alone. He brought an entire division of ant soldiers with him, as if Knox needed more reasons to worry about feeding costs if shadows could actually eat.
As for his gacha luck… well.
It was the kind of luck that made Knox wonder whether someone out there secretly cursed him.
Up until now, he hadn't pulled a single big, world-famous ★5 summon. Not one.
He even caught himself muttering once, "Is the goddess messing with me…?"
But strangely enough, despite never getting a ★5 character, he kept pulling ★5 skills.
For example?
Taixuan Swordsmanship from Honkai Impact 3rd. When he obtained that one, Knox just stared at the notification for a full minute before whispering:
"So… does this mean I can now drop a giant sword from the sky, manifest a thousand strands of sword qi, and casually slash space itself…?"
A brief pause followed.
"With yet another sword-related skill, won't I end up getting some ridiculous nickname? Something like 'Divine Blade', like Shizuna and the other masters of the Eight Leaves One Blade…?"
He grimaced inwardly.
"Well, at least that sounds better than 'Sword Saint.' I mean, being called a saint in Kizen dan Dark Alliance would feel wildly out of place…"
In any case, Knox had accumulated quite the collection of absurdly powerful abilities over the years.
And with each one, his path grew stranger… and a whole lot more entertaining.
Meanwhile, on some normal day.
Knox took another sip of his iced coffee, the glass sweating against his fingers as he leaned back in his chair. Manuscripts, loose notes, and a half-finished outline were scattered all over the table—his latest "original" novel, which was absolutely not a blatant replica of Fate/Zero structure (although the resemblance was getting dangerously close).
He was fully absorbed in deciding which scene to plagiar—pay homage to, when a sharp ding-dong! rang from the entrance.
Knox blinked.
"…Hmm?"
No one ever rang his doorbell.
Literally no one.
Mostly because he had given Igris and Beru the absolute order: "If anyone comes near the house, report immediately."
So why—
He slowly set down his coffee. "…Did they miss someone? No, impossible. They're too sharp for that."
Another ding-dong!
Persistent this time.
Knox frowned, stood up, and walked toward the door.
"Okay… weird. But sure. Let's see who—"
He opened it halfway.
"Hello, can I help y—"
He froze.
Standing on his doorstep were two faces Knox absolutely did not expect:
—A small girl-looking figure with long silver hair, bright eyes, and a smile that screamed chaotic danger disguised as adorable.
—And next to her, a tall woman with purple hair and an expression colder than a blizzard.
Knox's brain blue-screened.
His hand reacted before his mind did.
BAM.
He shut the door. Hard.
"…What… what the hell just happened?" he muttered to himself, staring blankly at the wood. "No way. No—way. That was definitely not real. There's no universe where those two show up at my house. Maybe I fell asleep on my manuscript again. Maybe this is caffeine hallucination."
He took one deep breath.
"Okay. Fine. If I open it again and they're gone, then I'm dreaming."
He grabbed the handle.
Pulled it open.
"Hellooo~ greetings, Knox Aznable!" chirped the silver-haired girl, waving enthusiastically.
Nefthis Archbold.
The Witch of Death. Strongest necromancer alive. Leader of Kizen and the Dark Alliance.
And beside her—
"Greetings to you," the violet-haired woman added politely, her voice calm and cold.
Jane Olivia, Kizen's Second-in-Command and Vice President of Kizen.
On his doorstep.