Nova Force Book 1

The journey to Artisan's Haven was everything we'd hoped for and more. Miss Irene, Nova Uno (Laylah), Nova Dos (Durato), and I were swept into a world that felt like a dream. Artisan's Haven was breathtaking—its streets lined with colorful stalls, intricate crafts, and treasures of all kinds. The city pulsed with an energy that left us wide-eyed, unable to take it all in fast enough. Everywhere I looked, something extraordinary beckoned, whispering, "Buy me, take me home." My friends felt the same, each of us grinning like children.
Laylah, true to form, eagerly pointed at anything that sparkled or intrigued her, declaring with certainty that she wanted it. Watching her lit up by the city's wonders, I quietly decided to surprise her later with a red gem necklace I'd bought when she wasn't looking. She had been talking about us having a night to unwind for ages, and tonight, at last, we could finally let go of the past week's frenzy.
Miss Irene and I soon drifted toward a weapons shop. The place was like a gallery, weapons displayed with pride—gleaming swords, ancient staffs, and weapons I'd never even seen before, all beautifully crafted and uniquely powerful. Only guns were absent, perhaps too modern for this artisan's paradise.
"I'll introduce you to a master weaponsmith, Zero," Miss Irene said, a hint of excitement in her eyes. "He's the best, though he'll cost you."
She moved ahead to speak with an elderly man wearing a wide-brimmed black hat, his face partially shadowed. He seemed to know Miss Irene, though I paid little attention to him. I trusted her instinct. Besides, Miss Irene was known throughout these parts.
"Rome, the building is ready," she said, turning back to me. "Where is…what's his name again?"
"His name is Mr. Shoto," I replied smoothly.
Miss Irene tilted her head, curious. "Strange, I've never heard of him. And I've got a pretty good ear for things around here, more than most teens would."
I felt my heart speed up but kept my voice steady, brushing it off with a laugh. "Rumor has it he's quite skilled. I think some extra digging might turn up what you're after."
Only Durato, Laylah, and I knew the truth about Mr. Shoto, and we'd agreed to keep it that way. The less Miss Irene knew, the safer she would be. We couldn't risk drawing her into a game where shadows and secrets often took the upper hand. Our plan was carefully crafted: Mr. Shoto would investigate from the outside, gathering intel while Rome and his team kept tabs from within. Miss Irene would focus on guiding the junior members of the Civitas Order, working independently yet still part of our network. This way, each of us could play our part without risking the others.
"I'll meet up with him shortly," I said, keeping my voice steady. "I'll fill him in on our location, though I suspect he already knows, given his reputation. After that, I'll begin investigating elsewhere. I won't be returning here."
"Sounds good," Laylah said as she joined us, her arms full of trinkets she'd been admiring. "We'll regroup later, Zero. Durato's already told everyone about tonight's celebration. The only person I haven't reached yet is Carissa, but I'll catch her when we're back in town."
We exchanged a quick smile before I dashed off to change into the clothes we'd arranged to pick up a few days earlier. Durato had been here before, securing what I needed and getting a feel for the place. Artisan's Haven was in his blood now, every corner familiar, but like the rest of us, he played along seamlessly.
"I wonder if he got the right size for me?" I asked myself as I raced to the location
Tonight, after everything was set in motion, we would gather to celebrate. The stars would be our witnesses as we laid the first stone in our carefully built plan—a plan we hoped would be as flawless as the crafts surrounding us, yet sharp enough to cut through the mysteries lurking in the shadows.
 
Experimenting with my oobleck cloak was like uncovering a hidden power. Without any nova force, it behaved like a dense, jelly-like substance, and with just a bit of energy, its shape could morph and adapt in endless ways. Intrigued, I transformed it into a small, dish-like object and tried placing it in my bag. To my surprise, the bag's straps tore instantly, and the cloak plummeted to the ground with a heavy thud, even lodging itself into the ground slightly.
"Strange," I muttered, studying the cloak, "it didn't feel nearly this heavy when I was wearing it. Must be a faulty bag."
With time running short, I left the cloak at our designated location for Plan B. Durato would don my clothes and act as a decoy, appearing as me to throw off anyone curious about the connection between Mr. Shoto and Zero.
I hurried over to my carriage—a true masterpiece. Its rich, crimson hue gleamed under the sunlight, with accents of gold tracing its elegant edges. Laylah had truly outdone herself. Every inch radiated luxury, from the polished golden rims to the finely crafted door handles. Inside, I was met with plush, light brown leather—so smooth and inviting it was like nothing I'd ever encountered. The seats were upholstered to perfection, each seam a testament to the masterful craftsmanship behind it.
The spacious interior was lavish yet comfortable, fitted with cushions and small intricacies that made it feel more like a private lounge than mere transport. It was a sanctuary on wheels, blending style and refinement with the promise of comfort. Laylah had promised it would be a sight to behold, and she was right. As I sank into the seat, surrounded by a warm ambiance, I felt ready for whatever awaited us.
 
 
 
Our carriage was pulled by a formidable Ox Bull—a beast the size of a horse, yet bulkier and infinitely more intimidating. Its massive frame, likely close to 3,000 pounds of pure muscle, exuded strength and raw power. Taming such a creature was an impressive feat on its own, one that reminded me of Liger's own ferocity.
Liger was unlike anything I'd encountered—a mysterious creature with an imposing, almost primal energy. He was barely three weeks old yet already larger than the average dog, his sinewy frame bristling with untamed strength. Konessàne speculated that Liger might be an intermediate or even advanced-class monster. This wasn't just speculation; in the region, only monsters of such ranks possessed the ability to channel nova force, let alone launch fireballs, which Liger had already mastered.
Early every morning, as dawn painted the world in shades of rose and gold, I'd take Liger out for training. He'd prowl through the misty forest beside me, his instincts sharp, his senses honed. I worked on my gravity nova force control, lifting small stones to the rhythm of my breaths, feeling their weight fluctuate as I learned to direct my energy. But Liger was the true spectacle, taking down any monster that crossed our path with unrelenting force.
One morning, we were ambushed by a pack of intermediate-level monsters, their eyes glowing with a predatory gleam as they surrounded us. Five to one. But Liger showed no hesitation. He launched forward, a ruthless blur of claws and fury, his jaws snapping with lethal precision. A monster tried to flank him—Liger wheeled around and unleashed a scorching fireball, singeing the beast's fur and forcing it back. Another lunged at him from behind, but he was faster, leaping over it with fluid agility and slashing at its back, his claws tearing through flesh.
It was only once that I needed to intervene. One creature, larger than the others, had pinned him, its jaws gnashing just inches from Liger's neck. I drew upon my gravity force, focusing it beneath the monster and yanking it backward, just long enough for Liger to free himself. With a growl that seemed to shake the ground, he pounced, his claws embedding deep into the monster's side, ripping into it with relentless savagery until it lay still.
Liger trotted back to me, unscathed, with a glint of satisfaction in his eyes. His ruthlessness was both terrifying and thrilling to witness, his growth more rapid than I'd anticipated. In only three weeks, he had transformed from an unfamiliar creature into a powerful, trusted ally—a beast who fought without mercy, each encounter strengthening him, shaping him into something truly formidable.
 
"We're almost there, sir," said the driver, snapping me out of my thoughts as the carriage rumbled toward the little town once more. As we passed through, curious eyes tracked our every move, drawn by the luxurious spectacle of our arrival. We were making an entrance, and Mr. Shoto—my carefully crafted alias—was about to make his.
The carriage was an opulent piece of craftsmanship, dark mahogany with gilded trims that glinted in the sun, wheels bound with polished silver, and its interiors lined with plush maroon velvet. Every inch of it spoke of wealth and mystery, a moving fortress of luxury that felt as though it belonged to a figure of immense importance. And for today, that figure was me, Zero.
As I—Mr. Shoto—stepped down, I could feel the weight of countless stares. My attire was a study in excess, an ensemble of deep, earthy browns that spoke of money and taste without needing to scream it. A tailored overcoat with a silken sheen, brass-studded boots, and a pair of dark shades concealed my eyes, casting an air of enigma. The aura around Mr. Shoto was one of effortless dominance, each step exuding confidence and self-importance. He was a man who made no effort to blend in.
Waiting at the edge of the town square were Miss Irene and her soldiers, standing like a welcoming committee for royalty. Her expression bordered on irritation and awe, while the soldiers glanced at me with reluctant admiration. I could tell that the information that I, Rome had fed her was spot-on: Mr. Shoto was well-regarded here.
"Welcome, I'm—" Miss Irene began, but I held up a hand, halting her with a dismissive wave.
"Yes, Miss Irene, I presume. And Nova Uno," I said, not so much greeting as announcing. "I've done my research." I gave them a self-assured smile that felt almost too satisfying as Miss Irene's expression soured.
Nova Uno, whose face was a blend of amusement and skepticism, simply shrugged. "Right back at you," she replied with a lazy grin.
Miss Irene narrowed her eyes, clearly unimpressed. "Funny—I've never heard of you."
I smirked, taking a step closer, relishing the opportunity to play up Mr. Shoto's superiority. "Oh, that's because I specialize in discretion. I come, I solve, I vanish. Many people don't know about me, but I'm certain they will after this. I suspect this case is… notable," I added, leaning into the arrogance Mr. Shoto seemed to embody so naturally.
"Well, I have access to quite a lot of information, and it's odd you've never crossed my path," she replied, folding her arms as her smile grew tight.
"Perhaps your access is more limited than you think," I said with a cool smirk, the confidence practically rolling off of me.
Her forced smile flickered, and I bit back a grin, inwardly savoring the discomfort. "Perfect," I thought. "The more irked she is, the less she'll suspect me."
Miss Irene quickly changed the subject, clearly eager to regain control. "I had hoped to introduce you to the others assisting in the investigation, but they seem to be elsewhere."
"Nova Dos is gathering supplies in town, and Zero has already started. He's likely still around," Nova Uno replied, glancing around with feigned disinterest.
"Then I'll make sure they understand the protocol. This investigation is mine now. Any findings will be reported to my office at the end of each day," I announced, letting my voice resonate with finality. "Though it hardly matters, as I'll likely know what they're going to report before they do."
Miss Irene barely restrained an eye-roll, while Nova Uno seemed to suppress a smirk. Before anyone could respond, however, a familiar figure appeared—a tall man in a dark mask, his aura unmistakably menacing.
"Another masked figure, Miss Irene?" I sneered, slipping into Shoto's arrogant character. "What is this, a parade? Or are you hosting some clandestine gathering I haven't been informed of?"
"Looks like you arrived just in time, Mr. Comedian," he said dryly, his voice edged with subtle warning. "Name's Nova Zero."
"Mr. Shoto," I replied with a curt nod, holding back a smirk. We exchanged a knowing glance. The disguise was secure for now, and Durato was playing his part well.
As we entered the newly constructed building, a large metal sign reading "Light over Dark Association" was being hoisted into place. Just as we walked beneath it, there was a sudden metallic snap, and with a deafening crash, the sign plunged downward, hurtling toward me.
The townsfolk gasped, a few soldiers started forward—but before the dust had time to settle, Nova Uno darted in, catching the heavy sign just inches from my head. She straightened, her eyes flashing.
"Thank you," I said coolly, brushing imaginary dust from my coat as if to downplay the scene. "You saved my life."
"You're welcome, prick," she muttered, her eyes narrowing, before she spun on her heel and strode off.

I watched her go, a smile creeping onto my face. Each interaction, every small exchange, was fortifying Mr. Shoto's air of intrigue and detachment. Miss Irene and her soldiers may have been there to assist, but I intended for them to follow—reluctantly, awestruck, and, if possible, just a little afraid.