Nova found himself inside a tall sandstone warehouse, where numerous large plates hung from the ceiling. Thousands of low-grade herbs were spread out on the plates, drying in the warm air.

Massive piles of salt absorbed moisture from the air all over the warehouse, while a large furnace along the side helped create the ideal conditions for keeping the air as warm as possible.

Despite its desert landscape, the 3rd’s stone forests were rich in rare medicinal herbs, a resource the Syndicate had largely monopolized. The business was so lucrative that they created small caravans and hired Fabled and Chronos to transport those herbs to the lower floors.

Following in the Syndicate's footsteps, smaller investors joined the business and, under the Stonewatch Guard’s noses, created violent gangs that controlled the production of lower-grade herbs.

Valonst, the man Nova had just killed, was the leader of a small gang that had established itself inside Stella’s territory. In usual fashion, she had permitted him to steal a small part of her business, and now, after earning the trust of Valonst and his men, she had sent Nova to take him out.

Now that Valonst was dead, she could easily absorb Valnost's men and business connections into her force. She was a cold, calculative bitch.

Nova carefully listened to the voices ahead of him. There were at least five people—too many for him to fight alone. But he wouldn't even need to try if things went as planned.

He crouched and moved forward before hiding behind a crate and risking a small peak.

Ahead of him were three men, two working on selecting dried herbs and storing them in separate containers, and another leaned over a small desk, with his back to the metal grate that would lead Nova out of this place.

Nova waited patiently.

Five, ten, twenty minutes, but the man on the desk refused to move, still busy, hunching over.

“Salov, I’ve just finished this batch of blue saints. Should I add it to the pile?“ asked one of the nearby henchmen.

Salov, who sat at the desk, raised his head and replied, “Not sure; Valnost was just telling me to save one of the best batches for the Stonewatch Guards. We need to keep them happy.”

“Aren’t these too good f–,” started the henchmen, but upon seeing Salov’s frown, he added, “Got it, I’ll ask Valnost. He must have fallen asleep on the privy.”

Nova pressed himself against the wooden crate. Things weren’t going as he wished. He could try to make a run for it, but using the pages for so long had exhausted him. If it was just Salov, he would’ve risked it, but in his current condition…

Not far away, two other henchmen shoveled dry salt. If things escalated into a fight, those two would quickly join it. He had to think of another way.

Nova looked around, searching for another way out, when he noticed his bloody footprints on the ground.

Fuck! Nova cursed his newbie mistake.

Behind him, he heard steps approaching.

A shirtless, pale man passed by Nova, heading towards the privy, oblivious to the bloodsteps on the ground.

Nova’s heart accelerated. He didn’t have much time left. Even if the man didn’t notice his bloody footsteps, he would find Valonst's body in a minute.

He wrecked his mind searching for a solution. What he needed was a distraction. Something that would pull the worker’s attention long enough for him to make it to the iron grid.

His eyes came to rest on the lit candle on Salov’s desk. The crates around Nova were full of dried herbs, and the warehouse’s air was dry and warm. If a tiny spark fell on one of those crates, it would quickly evolve into a huge fire.

Only if I could get my hands on that candle.

Nova almost slapped himself when he realized his stupidity. He had left a burning candle behind on the privy.

He started moving, carefully tracing his steps and ensuring he was not seen.

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Ahead of him, the man who had gone to check on Valnost was crouching, inspecting the bloody footsteps with confusion. Nova saw him take a finger and touch the red, sticky liquid. A moment later, he saw his face turning into fear as he realized the liquid was blood.

Nova threw caution to the wind and rushed towards him, drawing his dagger in one fluid movement. Alerted by Nova’s footsteps, the man turned around just in time for Nova to crash violently against him.

They struggled against each other while rolling through the floor, fighting to stay on top. The henchman, stronger than Nova, managed to keep on top of him and was now trying to immobilize his arms and legs.

Nova didn’t give the man an opportunity to gain the upper hand. He violently headbutted his face, causing his nose to explode with blood and pain. The man staggered, temporarily dazed, and Nova took the opportunity to strike at his neck.

Once, twice, thrice–he stabbed repeatedly, inflicting deep wounds that bled profusely.

The man opened his mouth in a last struggle to ask for help, but a well-timed slash on his throat cut through his vocal cords, rendering them useless. The man began to suffocate with a disgusting gurgling sound.

His strength rapidly faded, and at some point, he let go of Nova and put his hands around his neck in a futile attempt to stop the bleeding–it was already too late.

A precise strike in the temple ended him shortly after that.

“Vanto, is everything ok?” Salov shouted from the other side, rising from his desk.

Nova ignored his battered body and ran to the privy, his feet slipping on the bloody floor. As expected, he found the lit candle there, just where he had left it. He grabbed the candleholder and ran back outside.

Leaving more bloody prints in his wake, Nova retraced his steps as best as he could. Once he got to an open crate, he dropped the lit candle inside and dragged himself in the opposite direction, being careful not to leave any blood behind.

Not long after, Salov, who stood between Nova and his escape, noticed the bloody prints on the floor.

“Vanto! Everyone! There’s blood here,” he shouted out loud, startling the other three men.

Following Salov’s orders, the henchmen spread out and, equipped with clubs, searched for Nova.

Meanwhile, Nova was squeezing himself as hard as possible against a crate, not daring to breathe. He cursed again in his mind. He could hear one of the henchmen approaching. It was too late to try to use Ruined Stalker.

But luck was on his side.

White smoke spread through the warehouse, and soon, the workers picked up on it.

Commanded by Salov, they ran towards the flames, shoveling sand onto the burning crate, but it was already too late. Fueled by their efforts, embers spread through the air, setting more crates ablaze, and soon, the flames ran rampant.

Nova wasn’t there to watch the destruction, though. As soon as the henchmen were distracted, he cut his fingers and smeared blood on his last page. Amidst the confusion, no one heard him chanting the page’s name.

A red aura appeared around Nova’s feet as he gritted his teeth in pain. No longer worried about being seen, he appeared from behind a crate and rushed barefoot towards the iron grid with a burst of inhuman speed.

He could only sustain that skill for a moment – not only was it exhausting, but the pain he felt each time he used that technique was debilitating, and yet, it was enough.

People shouted behind his back as some men spotted him, but he had already removed the metallic grate by then. Nova let himself fall through the hole without hesitation and splashed on the water ten meters below.

The cold, strong current rapidly dragged him away from the city.

─ ⴵ─

Nova warmed his hands on the fire while waiting for his wet clothes to dry. The waterway had carried him all the way to the edge of Shatterhold, right outside the Industrial District.

He had been careful before returning to his shelter, and as far as he could tell, no one had been following him.

He sighed in relief. That had been close, too close, in fact. He could only hope no one had noticed his face or that could put his plan to leave the Labyrinth at risk.

Nova heard loud footsteps outside, rapidly approaching the hideout. He rushed to the rack where his pants were drying and took out his dagger. He was not yet in a condition to fight, and he couldn’t even use Ruined Stalker. Crimson Rush took a heavy toll on his body, and even making it to his shelter had been a struggle.

And yet, someone was approaching.

Nova walked to the door and pushed his body against the wall, his dagger held high, ready to strike.

He didn’t understand how he had been tracked down. He was pretty sure no one had followed him, and it had been months since he used this hideout.

The heavy steps stopped in front of his door.

“Hello, Nova,” greeted a worn voice. “May I come in?”

Nova lowered his dagger slowly–he knew that voice.

“Come in,” he replied, with a somber look on his face.

The door opened, and a towering man entered. He had long red hair, a tanned complexion, and a mocking smile. Nova’s eyes lingered on his left arm—an abnormal mess of cancerous flesh and nails, forming an asymmetric, disgusting claw.

How the hell does he keep tracking me?

The man’s name was Adam, and he was Stella’s right hand.