A man with not great features—witg his ratchet face,body which can be considered good-looking , pale skin, and black mid-long hair—was eating fresh fruit like there's no tomorrow. He was sitting on top of corpses, but not humans or anything like that—evil spirits and demigods who were begging him to finish them. He just ignored them, enjoying his meal without a care in the world.
After all… who cares about a damn battle that wouldn't even earn him money or glory, even if he put all his hard work into it?
"Yuk!" he said, throwing a piece of fruit in disgust, staring at the others too—they were just as bad.
"These all fruits are rotten, just like people in this world," said Nova, even complementing the comparison as he gazed at the fruits, which were riper than they should be—such a waste of delicacy.
But the strange thing wasn't his behavior—it was the situation he was enjoying all this in.
The battlefield was filled with corpses of humans and spirits alike, perishing like some grotesque beauty in a bathroom canal.
Suffering, schemes, pain, blood… all of it was wherever his eyes wandered. But he wasn't interested in any of it. These things were meaningless. Even if he lived or died, it was the same to him.
He was a member of the greatest sect—or to be precise, a dog who did anything for them, a loyal street dog bound by chains to do filthy work.
It was the great battle that could decide the fate of all creatures on this tiny planet… but what did that have to do with him?
It was just another daily routine for the street dog named Nova.
The battle raged on—voices and schemes of humans, spirits, and demigods alike.
"Really pain in the ass… these loud, irritating voices. Can't they just shut up for a while?" he said, lazily stretching his hand, nothing catching his interest.
"No more! Please… just kill me! I just want to die! Please… just kill me!" a demigod begged for mercy from beneath his perch, voice trembling.
But Nova didn't care. One stab to the head with his dull, rusted blade, and it was over.
"What an eyesore these guys are," he said, expression completely unchanged even as blood covered his face.
Another demigod came running.
"How dare you kill my brothers!" he shouted, swinging a burning sword.
Nova didn't even react.
Before the sword could swing, the attacker was cut in half.
"Big talk only looks good in novels, not in real life," Nova said, already having ended him before he even reacted.
He got back to watching the battle, enjoying his boring little show completely relaxed.
"Vice head has defeated one of the generals."
"She's really something else."
"She's the greatest in our clan!"
The people of his clan cheered for the clan master, celebrating her achievement.
But even that didn't faze Nova.
"Just defeated one small general, and these minions are licking her boots? Really… how unfair this world can be. Ha," he muttered, laughing softly to himself.
He had already taken down the remaining three generals with a swing of his sword like it was child's play. No, it wasn't even child's play—it was easier than a game for him.
But nobody sang songs for his deed. Nobody praised him.
Who would even bother? He was just a street dog of the clan. Not even a hunting dog… a disposable street dog, always there to be used and tossed aside.
Did he care? Not one bit.
All he wanted was three meals a day, but he usually got one lousy, rotten meal. Even after putting every bone of effort into the clan, he only tasted joy during battles, when he could finally get a proper three-meal-a-day spread.
And that was why he never missed a chance to enjoy it, no matter what else happened.
A woman in full plated armor, pale white skin, and long blue hair shouted. By most standards, she could be considered beautiful—but for Nova, she was just one of the top bitches who treated him like trash.
"Stop your talk and focus on the battle!" she barked.
"Yes, chief."
"Why are we the only ones working? What about that filthy lowlife over there, just sitting?"
"Hey, he'll hear you."
"Who cares?"
Even minions, those good-for-nothing pests, dared mock Nova, because they knew his value in the sect was nothing—even after everything he had done.
But Nova didn't care. Not one bit. He was used to it. Killing them would only cause him more problems, so he didn't bother anymore.
The vice head shouted again:
"Attack! Don't leave a single one alive!"
But Nova ignored that bitch voice. He was too busy thinking about what he'd eat after the battlefield.
Even as he thought, he cut down anyone who dared come close, no hesitation, no effort.
She approached him, and Nova already knew: nothing good was coming out of her mouth.
But in his head, there was only one question, and it wasn't about orders or tactics.
She really an exorcist?
Who wears full plated armor like a battle knight when they're supposed to be casting spells and moving fast? But… who could blame her?
This bitch had climbed to vice head without learning a thing about exorcism.
Normally, exorcists were supposed to use spells, charms, and magical weapons imbued with energy to destroy evil spirits and other creatures.
But Nova? He was different. He grew up without anyone teaching him exorcism, and he didn't even have a proper sword. All he had was a rusty blade he grabbed from a corpse during a battle.
He was self-taught, clawing his way to this level through sheer effort—unlike those silver-plated bastards who thought their fancy armor and magic made them better than everyone else.
Why? Because she's a bitch, of course.
Nova thought: a bitch is the pinnacle example of a bitch. He looked at her curves and figure.
Not bad, not bad at all… but still, not enough for him. To Nova, she was a bitch first, a woman second.
The vice head said, "What are you doing here? Playing by yourself?" as she slapped Nova across the face.
Nova's eyes twitched slightly.
He wanted to drive his sword straight through her thick skull. No… that wasn't enough. He wanted to give her something far worse than death.
She killed one general… just one… and now she's talking like that? Saying he was the one playing around?
Ha.
Nova almost laughed.
How foolish can someone be?
Well… the answer was standing right in front of him.
She spoke again, her tone dripping with arrogance:
"It's an order."
Nova stayed silent.
He knew this would bring trouble—big trouble—but he didn't care.
Same shit as always. Listen to this bitch, do the dirty work… and then maybe, just maybe, he'd get to eat his meal in peace after.
But then—
Her next words made even Nova pause.
"Go kill their leader."
"Hahahahah…"
That alone was enough for him to lose whatever little control he had left.
He knew what this meant. This wasn't an order—it was a death sentence.
But… he had already accepted that long ago.
The moment that slave mark was carved into his body, his fate had been sealed.