Cleaver Of Sin

Chapter 235: Peace

Cindralis floated high in the vast sky with an almost divine poise, her presence exuding calm ease and collected composure. The furious tempest of wrath and anger that had earlier consumed her seemed to vanish as though it had never existed, replaced by an expressionless facade, an indifferent mask sculpted with perfect precision.

Her abyssal black eyes, bore down upon the Separate Dimension with a chilling sharpness and calmness. Her long silken hair danced freely to the rhythm of the unseen winds that swirled about her, moving in graceful waves as though bowing to her command.

This Separate Dimension was her creation, an extension of her very will, and within it, she could sense nearly everything that transpired. She heard it all: the distant destructions echoing like drums of war, the ceaseless screams of despair tearing through the air, the ear-splitting blasts, the sharp clash of weapons colliding in endless wave. The echoes of explosions resonated like an unending storm. She could even smell it, the thick metallic tang of blood saturating the atmosphere, clinging desperately to the air as though striving to replace oxygen itself with carnage.

Yet, through it all, her expression did not shift. Not a flicker of emotion crossed her flawless visage. She hovered silently, unmoving, as though indifferent to the chaos she observed.

To her, it would require nothing more than a single, effortless move to erase the charade unfolding beneath her, a single act of her will would end it instantly. And yet, she did not act. She chose instead to remain still, to watch her subordinates fight, to allow the unfolding chaos to bloom unchecked for now.

’When was the last time something like this happened?’ She mused inwardly, her thoughts echoing within the quiet sanctum of her mind.

Her Separate Dimension had always been a sanctuary of peace, a haven of tranquility, which was precisely why countless souls had loved it, longed for it, and sought to move within its protective bounds. Here, they were promised safety, safety from monster invasions, safety from Emovirae sudden attacks, safety from the endless tides of suffering and despair that plagued the outer world. Here, they were promised a life untouched by calamity.

She let out a faint sigh. ’Well, it can all be rebuilt within a few days,’ she thought to herself.

The truth was simple: Cindralis had not acted to quell the chaos for a single reason, peace itself had become the poison.

Yes, peace was desirable, peace was treasured, and peace was welcomed by all. It made life easier, gentler, and more bearable. But in the unforgiving reality of Crymora, a world ruled only by power and selfish interests, peace was a double-edged sword. It dulled one’s edge, weakened one’s instincts, and lured even the strongest into a false sense of security.

It tricked one into believing they were safe, blind to the unrelenting apocalypse lurking just beyond the fragile walls of their comfort. To Cindralis, that was precisely what had begun to infect her Separate Dimension.

Her Knights and guards, once sharp and vigilant, had long ceased to face true adversity. They awoke each day and marched through the same hollow routines. They polished their weapons, donned their armors, and rotated through their guard shifts with the precision of ritual, but deep in their hearts, they all knew the truth, no real threat would ever come for them here. They had settled, lulled into complacency, ensnared in a false peace that stripped them of the ferocity that once defined them.

Yes, some few remarkable individuals still chose to leave the Separate Dimension, venturing into the wider world to face battles of life and death. But they were exceptions, rare outliers in a sea of stagnation.

To Cindralis, this charade unraveling below was not merely chaos, it was the necessary wake-up call. It was the fire required to temper her Knights, guards, residents, and even the Life Rankers of her realm. Peace was a blessing, yes, but it was also a danger. One must always be prepared to tear apart any force that dared threaten that peace they cherished so dearly.

Her gaze shifted toward the distant expanse where the Star Academy lay within the Dimension. Although Malrik’s devastating sword strike had spared that sanctuary, not even so much as grazing a single pebble within its walls, calamity still descended upon it. Emovirae and monstrous entities had poured into its grounds, disrupting its sanctity with their madness.

Though Cindralis would not personally strike against them, she would not allow her students to perish. If any life was truly in jeopardy, she would intervene without hesitation. It was, after all, one of the tenets she held most sacred. No student under her watch would fall.

Besides, should a single student die here, the questions would be endless. She could not silence them all. The children of world powerhouses, of rulers and lords, studied within this academy. Their deaths would ignite storms of inquiries, accusations, and retribution. And so, even as her awareness spread across the entire breadth of the Separate Dimension, she allowed the chaos to burn. But the sharpest edge of her focus remained fixed upon her students.

Asher’s world suddenly blurred. His senses warped and distorted as space itself shifted violently around him, forcefully dragging his body elsewhere. A heartbeat later, clarity returned, and he found himself standing within the familiar confines of his chamber.

”The principal... she teleported me,” he muttered under his breath, not as a question but as an undeniable fact.

The moment Malrik’s devastation had ended, Cindralis had chosen to cast Asher away, unwilling to let him remain in her sight. To her, he was the catalyst of this calamity. If he had not summoned the First Sun, Malrik, none of this would have transpired. Though she knew deep within herself that she bore the true responsibility, she refused to shoulder the blame, after all, it was simply just how the world worked. No person feelings.

Asher had scarcely been in his room for a single minute when his sharpened senses detected the sound of impending ruin. His ears caught the vibrations of destruction, his instincts screaming warnings of the apocalypse outside.

He rushed toward the window, but before his eyes could take in the scene, a fist came crashing toward him, blazing like a comet aimed directly at his skull. The glass panes and window frame shattered in an instant as the strike surged through, unstoppable and violent.

Butt Asher didn’t even flinch. His reaction was instantaneous, a testament to his refined reflexes. Calm-faced, he seized the attacker’s wrist mid-strike, his grip tight, before twisting sharply. With effortless strength, he swung the assailant’s body over his own shoulder and hurled him downward. The impact resounded like thunder, tearing open the floor beneath them as the man’s body was driven deep into the ground.

Pain seared through the man’s limbs, rattling his mind, but battle instincts urged him to rise, to counter, to strike back before being subdued again. He forced his eyes open, ready to retaliate.

But all he saw was a blur of motion. A boot filled his vision.

With brutal force, Asher’s foot slammed into his head. The sound of bone cracking and skull splintering echoed as the man’s cranium ruptured. Blood and brain matter exploded outward, painting the floor in crimson horror. The twitching of his body ceased a moment later, limp, lifeless, discarded.

Asher did not spare the corpse a second thought. He had already vaulted through the shattered window, leaping effortlessly from the tenth floor, his rapier, Virelass, gleaming coldly in his grip.

Though he did not yet know the full scope of what had occurred, his mind whispered enough. He could guess, he could deduce, and above all, he would not remain idle while monsters, criminals, and Emovirae tore through the Separate Dimension unchecked.

The earth welcomed his descent, his feet landing lightly as though gravity itself had bent to his command. The instant he touched the ground, he launched forward with lethal efficiency. He did not pause, he did not speak, he became a blur of motion, a streak of silver judgment. His rapier flashed like divine retribution, thrusting forward with the precision of a god’s decree.

And thus, in that moment, Asher began to carve his own path into the apocalypse.