"Consume my Emotion Points. Construct the Curse."
The system hummed in response, processing his command with cold efficiency.
[Consuming…]
NOX began to shape the essence of the curse with precision, the intricacies of its design coming into focus. While he may not yet have the ability to craft skills from the ground up, he could still influence their formation—bend them to his will.
He would forge a power so ominous, so suffocating in its despair, that the very mention of his name would send ripples of terror through the Dharma Soldiers, their hearts quivering in dread.
A Rank 7 soldier had once dismissed NOX's display of power as feeble, declaring that the world would never fear him because of it.
Well, he would gift them a reason—a curse—to fear him.
[Curse Creation Complete!]
[Creation Cost: 100,000 EP]
[You have created the Curse: Nameless Decree!]
[State the function of the Curse!]
Without hesitation, NOX spoke the curse's purpose clearly, his voice unwavering as he laid out its mechanism before it activated.
[Curse of the Nameless Decree]
[Grade]: Legendary (Growth)
[Type]: Curse, Domain, Plague
[Target]: ??
[Domain]: ??
[Description]: A silent, invisible edict of annihilation, neither corrupting nor spreading, but patiently awaiting its moment. Once invoked, the curse establishes a pervasive, undetectable domain of death. It does not pursue its victims, nor does it forcefully assert its presence. Instead, it lies dormant, a quiet, inevitable doom.
[Effects]:
Dormant Presence: The curse remains undetectable, impervious to dispelling. It exists only as a quiet, inevitable doom.
Inevitable Manifestation: Once the target steps into the domain, the curse activates, binding them and everything they hold dear as prey.
Torment Before Death: The curse does not kill instantly. It weaves a tapestry of relentless horror, despair, and suffering, ensuring its victims are utterly broken before their end.
Endless Growth: Each life it claims feeds the curse, expanding its domain and increasing its strength.
Unavoidable Fate: The curse cannot be outrun or broken. It does not chase its prey—it waits. And when the moment comes, the victim is doomed.
NOX read the description, his smirk widening in satisfaction. This was the kind of power that would make the world truly fear him. Not just the Dharma Soldiers. Not just the Human Supreme Society. Everyone.
With a single command, NOX directed his system:
"Consume all Emotion Points and activate the Curse. Target: Dharma Soldiers. Domain: Genesis Realm."
[Consuming 2.87 Million EP to activate Curse of Nameless Decree.]
[Target: Dharma Soldiers]
[Domain: Genesis Realm]
At that moment, NOX felt something shift—an indescribable sensation, as though a part of him was leaving, yet still tethered to him. It could have been the curse's causality—or the curse itself, a force now intertwined with his being.
The curse now hung like a silent storm in the Genesis Realm, its influence extending even to the edges of outer space.
Any Dharma Soldier who ventured into its domain would meet their end—unless they had some connection to him, however faint. But even then, if that connection was one of enmity rather than friendship, their fate would be sealed.
This curse was not merely a force of destruction; it was an intelligence of its own. It could calculate causality, discern between enemy and ally, and, most terrifying of all, it could grow stronger with every life it claimed.
NOX would never need to spend another Emotion Point to fuel it; the 2.87 million points he had sacrificed were more than enough to empower the curse for eternity.
To understand its potency: for over a million points, NOX could attain the power of weaker Rank 9 Awakeners. But with nearly 3 million points, the curse was an unstoppable force.
In that moment, NOX declared the Genesis Realm a no-man's land for the Dharma Soldiers. The instant they set foot within its boundaries, their death would be assured. But since they were not so easily moved by fear of death, NOX had made sure the curse would target their families first.
The Dharma Soldiers would be forced to watch their loved ones suffer, despairing in the face of their inevitable demise before their own death would come.
Now, the world would tremble before him. The Dharma Soldiers would cower—not out of fear for their own lives, but for the sake of their families.
Was it cruel? Yes.
But NOX was a devil, and his hatred for the Dharma Soldiers, and for the Human Supreme Society, eclipsed any sense of morality. If he did not strike first, they would annihilate his clan.
It was an inevitable clash, a war between two forces where only one could survive. Either the Human Supreme Society or NOX's people would be left standing.
NOX gazed at the lone Rank 7 warrior—the only one who had survived him.
A pitiful existence.
This man would go down in history as the sole survivor of NOX's massacre, a living testament to the horror he had unleashed. But NOX hadn't spared him out of mercy. No, this was something far crueler. In some cases, living was a fate far worse than death.
And NOX wanted this man to spend the rest of his life drowning in the unbearable weight of guilt—knowing that he was the catalyst for a curse so terrifying, so insidious, that it would one day devour every last Dharma Soldier in existence. A curse that, given enough time, could spread across the entire universe.
Yet even as he stood in the aftermath of his own creation, NOX couldn't shake a lingering unease.
He had named it Nameless Decree, but what did the term 'Nameless' truly entail? What did 'Unrecorded'—a concept tied to his very existence—actually mean? The scale of power and potential displayed by his Unrecorded Divinity and Nameless Horror were immense, yet something about them made his instincts whisper caution.
In this world, nothing happened without reason.
There was no such thing as fate. No such thing as coincidence.
Every event, every encounter, every seemingly random moment… it all had a purpose. And that purpose did not always favor the one at the center of it. More often than not, it was dictated by something—or someone—far beyond one's control.
Exhaling slowly, NOX pushed these thoughts aside for now. His blindfold tilted slightly upward as he sensed the battle still raging above.
His lips curled into an amused smirk.
"Tch. That lazy-ass uncle of mine is actually enjoying himself," he muttered.
It had been centuries since Tirius had last fought, and NOX could tell—the old man was savoring every moment. If he truly wanted, he could have ended the battle in seconds, yet here he was, dragging it out. A rare indulgence.
But NOX's amusement was short-lived.
Another thought surfaced—one far more intriguing.
According to the timeline he knew, dozens of Rank 9 warriors should soon be arriving.
A cruel anticipation welled in his chest. The curse had already been deployed across the Genesis Realm. The moment they set foot here, their fates would be sealed.
He wondered—just how strong would his curse become after devouring the power of Rank 9 Awakeners?
He was eager to find out.
*******
In the vast emptiness of space, the remnants of shattered stars drifted aimlessly, their once-radiant brilliance reduced to celestial debris. The void itself seemed to tremble from the battle's aftermath, the echoes of power still lingering in the fractured silence.
Amidst the chaos, Tirius stood effortlessly composed, his presence untouched by the destruction around him. He exuded an air of lazy indifference, as if the battle itself were an inconvenience rather than a challenge.
In stark contrast, General Aldren and General Seraphina bore deep wounds, their energy flickering with instability. Blood seeped into the void, proof of their struggle.
Not far from them, a lone assassin clutched his side, his breath uneven. His dark attire, meant to blend with the shadows, now clung to him like a second skin soaked in failure. He had waited for the perfect opportunity, hoping to strike Tirius at his most vulnerable, but to his horror, his existence had been anticipated. The moment he moved, he lost his advantage. And an assassin without the element of surprise was nothing more than a blade without an edge.
Aldren's grip tightened around his halberd. Every movement sent sharp pain coursing through his body, but pain wasn't what unsettled him. He had expected a hard fight, but not this—a complete and utter gap in strength.
They were all Rank 9 Awakeners, yet not once had they so much as grazed Tirius' robes. The realization settled like a stone in his gut. Tirius was toying with them.
'We held him off, but we won't last much longer. Where the hell are the reinforcements?'
Aldren cast a glance at Seraphina, who met his eyes and gave a small nod. She understood his thoughts without the need for words.
Seraphina's gaze flickered across the ruined expanse. A small mercy—at least they had kept the battle away from life-bound planets. She took a slow, steadying breath, ignoring the sting of her wounds, and spoke carefully.
"Lord Tirius, let's end this here. We will retreat from this realm and leave the young lord NOX alone."
She wasn't making a request. She was stating a fact, one she knew Tirius would accept.
They hadn't crossed the line into a battle of life and death. And as a member of the Society, Tirius wouldn't risk outright killing them—that would provoke an even greater conflict.
Tirius remained silent, his expression unreadable.
His thoughts drifted to NOX's earlier request—his nephew had specifically asked him to kill these generals. But why? And how had NOX known there would be an assassin lurking in the shadows?
There was something deeper at play here, something more than simple hatred. NOX wasn't the type to demand bloodshed without reason.
With a heavy sigh, Tirius rubbed his temple, feeling the weight of too many thoughts pressing in. He was thinking too much today. And, quite frankly, he was too damn lazy for that.
Then, his gaze lifted, and his aura shifted in an instant. Gone was the languid, disinterested guardian. In his place was a force to be reckoned with. His voice, when it came, was sharp.
"Since you've been stalling for reinforcements, I might as well entertain you."
A ripple of unease passed through the generals. Tirius was many things, but he was not one to waste words. If he spoke now, it meant he was either serious—or enraged.
His next words confirmed their worst fears.
"Who acted against my clan?" His tone was deceptively calm, carrying the weight of unspoken consequences. "Was it one of the Council Lords? Or the Supreme himself?"
Seraphina barely opened her mouth before Tirius cut her off, his voice laced with cold finality.
"If you spout nonsense again, I will not hesitate to bury you."
Though Tirius was known for his laziness, he was no fool.
The Society had sent an entire war fleet to arrest a mere Unranked Awakener. No one deployed such overwhelming force without approval from the highest ranks.
Not only had they dispatched two generals, but they had also sent an assassin—an unmistakable declaration of intent.
You don't send an assassin to arrest someone. You send one to eliminate them.
Their actions had been reckless. Brazen.
And worse, they had no proof. NOX had been labeled a Devil based on mere rumors, yet the Society had moved as if it were absolute truth. That was not how they operated. The Society was not so free that they could afford to waste fleets on baseless accusations.
No, this was something else.
They had sent three Rank 9 Awakeners under the assumption that NOX's guardian was only Rank 7. That meant, had they known the truth—had they realized that a Rank 9 like Tirius was protecting NOX—then what? What kind of force would they have truly sent?
Tirius had his answer. The Society had already prepared itself for war against his Dark Heaven Clan.
Silence stretched between them.
The generals refused to speak, unwilling to betray their superiors. But Tirius didn't need their words. Their silence was confirmation enough.
He let out a long sigh, the weight of revelation pressing down.
"Has the Society fallen so low?" he murmured. "Waging war against its own kind?"
His eyes darkened.
"Very well," he said, his voice carrying the chill of an executioner's verdict. "Now, I can kill you without concern."