Cleaver Of Sin

Chapter 227: I Was Never Asking Either

Cindralis stared at Asher, waiting for a reply. Yet, none came. He remained utterly silent, his purple eyes unfazed. For a brief moment, the atmosphere seemed to still, but she did not press him for an answer. Instead, she continued speaking, her tone calm yet cutting, her words precise and deliberate.

”On your first day at this Academy,” she began, ”you surpassed what Instructor Melissa could hope to teach in the realm of pure Astra control. And now, you have already passed the very first lesson in Hale’s class with startling ease. I find myself wondering, what sort of talent must one possess to accomplish such feats?”

Her words hung in the chamber like an echo of judgment.

Asher did not hesitate with his reply. His voice was level, calm, and free of boast or false modesty.

”I am a Wargrave,” he said plainly. ”Such things are expected. Such things are standard.”

Cindralis tilted her head slightly, her abyssal eyes narrowing by the faintest degree.

”Standard, you say? Possessing such immaculate Astra control is standard...?” she murmured softly, almost to herself. ”Interesting. It seems, then, that outside the abilities inherited from your Wargrave bloodline, you have awakened something else. An ability that either grants you perfect control over Astra or vastly enhances your control of it. Tell me, am I right... or am I wrong?”

Her question was sharp, direct, devoid of ornament.

Asher’s expression remained perfectly masked, though within, he acknowledged the truth of her observation. He was not surprised. After all, he had not hidden his ability. From the very start, he had displayed his remarkable mastery, even during the battle examinations. For someone like Cindralis, noticing it was inevitable.

”You are right,” he admitted simply, his tone betraying no intention of denial.

”Fascinating,” Cindralis murmured, though her face remained expressionless, not even the faintest smile gracing her lips. Her voice carried intrigue, yet not warmth. Then, without warning, her tone shifted, adopting a different weight.

”Asher Wargrave... to me, you are an enigma. And I do love enigmas. You are a boy who awakened only on his final attempt, yet you now stand here, above your peers. I generally grant admission to this Academy only to those whose talents I sense in advance. Yet, I did not sense you. You were invisible to me, a dud within my perception. Still, I allowed you entry, out of sheer curiosity. I wanted to see what a Wargrave who had failed his awakening twice would accomplish. If you had proven untalented, you would have failed the exams and returned to your ducal estate in shame. But... it seems reality exceeded even my expectations.”

Her words struck Asher like a blow. For a moment, he was stunned.

He had long heard whispers that Cindralis possessed either an artifact or some innate ability that allowed her to sense talent across the Empire. That was how she had built her Academy into the pinnacle of learning, drawing in prodigies from every corner of the land. Now, she confirmed it herself. But what shocked him was not the confirmation, it was the revelation that she had never sensed him at all. He had been admitted solely on her whim, out of curiosity.

And curiosity, he realized, had now placed him directly within the jaws of a predator.

”I am not one to waste words with needless pleasantries,” Cindralis continued, her voice like velvet stretched over steel. ”Asher Wargrave, you possess the affinity for space, along with remarkable talents and abilities beyond your years. Therefore, I shall speak plainly: become my disciple.”

The chamber seemed to grow colder, the weight of her command pressing upon him.

Her words struck his ears like thunder. It was not a request. It was a decree. From her tone alone, it was clear she did not anticipate refusal. To her, this was inevitable, as though the stars themselves had aligned to dictate it.

Asher’s thoughts churned in silence. He was not offended by her tone; he understood the truth of his position. Here, before her, he was the weak one.

He knew the potential benefits of accepting her offer, benefits beyond measure. With her as his master, every resource within Star Academy would become his. Limitless points. Endless access to knowledge and techniques. His spatial affinity would reach unimaginable heights under her tutelage. And beyond that, he would gain another world powerhouse at his back, a protector to rival even his father’s shadow.

By every logical measure, he should accept.

But he was a Wargrave. And Wargraves did not bow. They did not kneel. They served no one, no matter how divine the opportunity.

And Asher was not about to be the one to break that tradition for a handful of conveniences he knew he could survive without.

”I refuse,” he said flatly.

The instant the words left his lips, the very air seemed to shudder. The chamber trembled faintly, as though the world itself had taken offense at his audacity. It was as if the heavens condemned his rejection, for he had denied not just a master, but a goddess.

Cindralis’ eyes darkened, a flicker of power stirring within their abyssal depths.

”I was never asking,” she said. Her voice was quiet, but the weight it carried was overwhelming. Her tone was final, absolute. She could already see it, the monstrous potential locked within him. Potential she refused to let slip through her fingers.

But Asher’s reply was just as swift.

”I was never asking, either.”

The words left him like a blade drawn across the still air.

And then the world crushed him.

A weight unlike anything he had ever known descended upon his shoulders. His knees buckled instantly, crashing to the ground. The stone beneath him did not crack, it did not need to. The pressure was entirely internal, as though the essence of his being was being crushed into nothingness.

Dread flooded him. His mind shook, his body trembled. He felt as though he stood face to face with death incarnate. His muscles quivered, his bones screamed, and yet the floor remained untouched. He was simply too insignificant to leave a mark.

”I will give you one more chance,” Cindralis said, her voice echoing like a decree from the heavens themselves. ”Become my disciple, or end the story of your life here and now.”

Sweat poured from Asher’s pores in torrents, drenching his clothes. Blood trickled from his eyes, his nose, and his ears, painting his face in crimson lines. His body shook, his mind screamed, but his gaze never wavered. His purple eyes remained cold, apathetic, locked onto hers without fear. He looked at her not as a supplicant, but as a Wargrave.

His lips remained sealed.

Though outwardly calm, inside his thoughts raced like wildfire. He could not accept her offer. His opinion of her had plummeted the moment she chose coercion over choice. Who knew what chains she would bind him with if he agreed? Who knew what roles he would be forced to play? A disciple? Or a slave dressed in finer words?

’I never thought I would be forced to use it this soon,’ he thought grimly. ’I wonder... will he be able to help?’

His mind flicked to the wooden talisman his elder brother had entrusted to him. His hand, hidden behind his back, moved with precision. He did not know how much longer his body could endure before collapsing entirely. He had no time to hesitate.

A rectangular wooden talisman materialized in his grip, drawn directly from his system inventory. Without pause, he infused it with Astra.

The effect was immediate. The talisman called, and the owner answered.

Erupting with a blinding radiance, a golden light so fierce it resembled the wrath of a dying sun graced the Separate Dimension. The chamber was swallowed whole by the brilliance, the air itself trembling as though caught in the grip of apocalypse.

It was no ordinary light. It was divine, overwhelming, absolute.

The First Sun, Malrik Wargrave, was making his entrance once more.

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