Cleaver Of Sin

Chapter 222: Hale

Within the class hall, some students were breathing raggedly as their chests rose and fell with uneven rhythm. Beads of sweat trickled down their foreheads and ran down their backs, dampening their clothes. A few of them had already pulled out handkerchiefs to wipe the perspiration from their faces, while others struggled to steady their breathing patterns after what felt like an eternity of waiting, half an hour of tense silence.

Many students chose to close their eyes, attempting to meditate or simply conserve their strength as silence encompassed the room. But, not everyone sought calm. A handful of them whispered among themselves, chattering quietly about the earlier demonstration with Instructor Melissa. The memory of her overwhelming control over Astra still lingered in their minds like a shadow, leaving them restless and uncertain.

As for Asher, he did not join in their chatter, nor did he attempt to sit idly and rest. Instead, with his usual quiet demeanor, he rose from his seat. His movements were deliberate and calm, his footsteps echoing faintly as he descended the small flight of stairs leading out of the hall. Without so much as a glance behind him, he walked out of the class hall.

Several pairs of eyes followed him with faint curiosity, some of the students whispering, others raising brows in silent wonder. To them, his sudden departure seemed strange, even unnecessary. But after a brief moment of confusion, realization finally dawned on them.

The second class of the day was scheduled to begin at exactly 11:30 a.m. That meant they had a thirty-minute interval between sessions. However, the break was not as leisurely as it sounded, for they still had to head to the next class venue within that span of time.

As the realization struck, murmurs spread like wildfire. Students who had been sitting rose abruptly to their feet, their voices rising in urgency as they gathered their belongings. Some jogged hurriedly, eager to get ahead, and even overtook Asher, who walked with an unhurried, composed pace. Others, unwilling to exhaust themselves, strolled calmly either behind him or at his side, speaking quietly in hushed tones.

After a few minutes of casual walking, Asher left the building entirely. The open air greeted him, filled with the murmur of students who also streamed out of the hall. Several carried with them the Star Academy rulebook, flipping quickly to the last page where the map was printed, guiding them toward the designated venue.

Their journey was not entirely solitary. Along the way, they encountered upperclassmen, older students whose bearing carried weight and experience. These veterans of the Academy barely spared them more than a passing glance before returning to their own affairs. It was as though they had long grown accustomed to the frantic pace of new students scrambling between lessons, and thus, their presence remained little more than a background detail.

Eventually, the group arrived at the edge of a forest. It was no ordinary woodland, for it stood veiled in an almost mystical duality. Half of its canopy was shrouded in shadow, dense and oppressive, while the other half shimmered faintly beneath streaks of light filtering through the trees. The forest exuded a strange aura, eerily silent at first glance, yet beneath that silence lurked a subtle hum, as though the land itself concealed whispers of noise and movement.

None of the students expressed surprise that the next lesson was to be held there. The name of the class alone, Stealth and Infiltration Training, made it evident that such skills could not possibly be taught within the confines of four walls. To learn stealth, one had to blend with the environment. To learn infiltration, one had to move through shadows, terrain, and uncertainty. No amount of theory, diagrams, or written lectures could capture the essence of such practices.

At once, many of the students dropped to the grass at the forest’s edge, resting their bodies. They knew instinctively that the class ahead would demand much from them. The thought of conserving energy became their priority. No instructor had yet arrived to bark orders, but that only made their resolve firmer, rest now, while rest was permitted.

A few, however, stood apart. William and several others chose to spend the last minutes of their break refining their Astra control. To them, physical exhaustion was not a concern, for the previous session had taxed their minds more than their bodies. Rather than squander time, they focused on discipline, weaving threads of Astra between their palms, testing stability and control. Their quiet determination created a subtle contrast with the larger group sprawled across the grass.

As the clock struck the appointed time, a sudden voice pierced the air.

”My name is Hale, and you will address me as Instructor Hale.”

The voice carried no great volume, yet it cut sharply into the stillness, demanding attention without force. In an instant, two hundred heads snapped toward the direction of the sound. To their astonishment, a man stood there, dark-haired, dark-eyed, blending so seamlessly with the forest’s shadows that none had noticed his presence until he revealed himself.

This was not merely a man introducing himself. This was a demonstration.

As realization spread, every student scrambled to their feet, backs straightening with haste. Their earlier rest was forgotten. The weight of the moment pressed upon them as they realized that this was their final class of the day. Unlike the Astra Control session, which had lasted a mere two hours, Stealth and Infiltration Training would stretch across four grueling hours.

Afterward, they would finally be allowed to return to their rooms and find rest, but only after enduring whatever trial awaited them.

Hale stood with arms crossed, his expression unreadable. His appearance was unremarkable at first glance: black hair, black eyes, common features shared by nearly ninety percent of those born within the Zarethorne Empire. But beneath that ordinariness lay a presence sharp enough to unsettle even the boldest among them.

”Some of you might be wondering what you are doing here,” Hale began, his voice calm but carrying a weight that pressed on their hearts. ”You may think your abilities are not suited for this class. Some of you may believe you are not destined to become assassins or spies, and therefore, this is irrelevant to you.”

He let the words hang for a moment, his gaze sweeping across the gathering.

”But that mentality,” Hale continued, his tone dropping into something colder, ”is the kind of foolishness that gets people killed in the real world. Do not delude yourselves into thinking that the world runs on honor, courtesy, or romantic notions of chivalry. There are no shining knights who stand tall, crossing swords only for the sake of noble ideals. This, ” his hand gestured subtly to the forest behind him ”, is reality, not fantasy. And reality is cruel. Those who learn only what directly complements their abilities are always the first to die in battle.”

The silence deepened. His words struck like a blade, cutting into their assumptions. Hale paused deliberately, giving them time to digest the weight of his statement.

”Here, within the Star Academy,” he resumed, ”you will be taught a variety of skills. No matter what situation you find yourself in, cornered, outnumbered, ambushed, you will have more than one option. Options to fight. Options to flee. Options to survive. This class is not meant to turn you into assassins or shadows. It is to engrain the fundamentals of stealth and infiltration into your minds and bodies, because the day will come when you will need it sooner than you imagine.”

His black gaze swept across them again, calm, unblinking. The silence that followed was heavier than before, filled with the unspoken realization that his words carried more than mere instruction, they carried truth born from experience.

The students stood rooted, unwilling to break the silence. Already, several among them were beginning to imagine scenarios where such skills could prove vital. They did not need to be masters of stealth, but even the most basic knowledge could set them apart from their enemies. The ability to move unseen, to strike unexpectedly, to escape undetected, such tools could mean the difference between life and death.

And so, as the forest loomed ominously behind Hale, they braced themselves. Whatever came next would not be easy. But one thing was certain: they would not leave unchanged.

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