Cleaver Of Sin

Chapter 249: Newcomer

In a vanishing phantom of motion, Asher moved like a streak of purple lightning, his body dissolving into a blur of spectral light. But he wasn’t dodging, no, his intent was far more audacious. He tore forward toward one of the incoming attacks. The lightning coursing through Virelass flared to life, erupting with even greater force. In a radiant flash of purple and silver, his rapier sliced through one of the crescent attacks, cleaving it perfectly in half with divine precision.

Asher’s eyes glimmered with heightened awareness as he sensed the Astra energy within the shattered ice about to detonate. Without missing a beat, he vanished, his form blinking out of existence as though he had never been there. He reappeared several meters away, only for another attack to surge toward him from behind. But Asher didn’t pause; he had already sensed it before it even began to close in.

In a blur of motion, he turned sharply, the air splitting around him as he swung Virelass once more. His rapier tore through another icy projectile before he disappeared again, refusing to be caught in the inevitable explosion that followed.

Deafening detonations erupted across the battlefield, thunderclaps echoing as if the heavens themselves had declared war. Asher became nothing more than a flicker of light and sound, a storm made flesh. He moved like a tempest unleashed, his blade a blur of silver fury that carved through everything in his path. Each strike was lightning incarnate: blinding, instantaneous, and impossible to counter. Even the wind struggled to keep pace with his movements.

His rapier left streaks of luminous afterimages in the air, traces of death that lingered for the briefest heartbeat before vanishing into nothingness. He was wind and shadow, a phantom that danced across the chaos of the battlefield. Time itself seemed to warp around him, stretching and collapsing between each of his movements, unable to contain his sheer velocity.

His mind became one with the storm. He seamlessly merged teleportation and pure speed, bending the boundaries between space and lightning. His form moved beyond the realm of mortal sight, entering a dimension of motion that defied comprehension.

Doris, witnessing Asher’s counter to her previous assault, changed tactics in an instant.

Every shard of ice in the surrounding area suddenly flared outward, radiating blinding white and unrelenting cold. Energy burst from the frozen landscape in devastating waves, spreading destruction in every direction.

Asher’s senses screamed in alarm. His mind spun as he detected the sudden shift in Astra control, the rhythm, the frequency, the control of Doris’s energy had changed completely. His mind sharpened; he adapted in real time, his control over space intensifying. With a single thought, Astra surged within him like a tidal wave, and he tapped fully into his spatial affinity.

The air distorted. Space itself began to quiver, resisting his will at first, but Asher pressed on. It was futile to fight him; reality bent, forming a compact spatial dome around him, a shimmering distortion that encompassed a one-meter radius. The intensity of his lightning flared, the color deepening to a violent shade of purple as he poured more Astra into his barrier.

He knew that with the way he was burning through his Astra energy, he should have been empty by now. But his Perfect Astra Control ensured not a single mote was wasted. Every drop of energy was precise, refined, and optimized. It was the only reason he could keep fighting at this level.

Then came the impact.

With the intent of death itself, the chilling explosion slammed against his small spatial dome. The distorted air trembled and cracked, the fabric of space whining under the unbearable pressure. The dome held, for a moment, but Doris’s attack was too powerful. It was like a sledgehammer striking fragile glass.

Space shattered.

A soundless implosion echoed across the dimension as the spatial barrier collapsed, and the full force of the explosion slammed into Asher’s lightning armor. He gritted his teeth, his body convulsing from the immense impact. His armor crackled violently, arcs of violet lightning slithering like furious serpents across his body, roaring in defiance. But the explosion was centered directly on him; there was nowhere to run.

Before long, he was swallowed whole by the maelstrom.

Dust storms, ice storms, smoke storms, and vaporous steam rose skyward, merging into a colossal haze that smothered the entire battlefield in a veil of obscurity. The ground was no longer solid earth but a frozen expanse of chilling frost, so thick that to step upon it was to invite death. Any living being that dared set foot on that surface would be turned instantly into an ice sculpture.

Then, an unseen wind swept across the field, parting the veil of smoke and frost. Through the destruction, two silhouettes emerged, two beings who stood as the embodiment of opposing forces.

Doris stood ahead, pristine and untouched. Not a single injury marred her flawless skin. Her demeanor remained the same, calm, calculating, and unnervingly composed. Her obsidian eyes held a detached coldness, the expression of one who had already decided the outcome of this battle.

Asher, by contrast, stood amid the aftermath of ruin. His chest heaved as he drew ragged breaths, the sound of his breathing echoing faintly through the still air. The biting cold clawed at his skin. Large portions of his lightning armor had been shattered, pieces flickering in and out like broken fragments of light. His body bore burns, cuts, and bruises, each mark a testament to his endurance. He looked as if he could collapse at any moment. And yet, before a single drop of sweat could fall from his brow, the heat from his armor evaporated it instantly.

Despite his condition, Asher’s gaze remained steady, calm, resolute, unbroken. His back was straight, his stance defiant. A faint smile touched his lips, one born not of arrogance but of exhilaration. He wouldn’t deny it, he was thrilled. Inspiration flooded his mind even as pain racked his body.

’I’m already out of Astra,’ Asher thought to himself. Yet the thought carried no despair. He wasn’t bothered in the slightest.

Before he could even issue a command, Virelass responded. The rapier pulsed with a soft, silvery light, and his injuries began to mend. Flesh knitted together, muscles reformed, and torn skin sealed flawlessly. Within seconds, the wounds vanished, leaving him restored.

Doris didn’t so much as flinch. His regenerative ability meant little to her. To her mind, it changed nothing. No matter how many times he healed, the end result was already determined. Yet, somewhere deep within her, a faint spark of curiosity stirred.

How had he survived her earlier assault? How had he withstood the explosion that should have erased him from existence? How could someone of his rank possess such destructive power? And most importantly, how could he sustain such an immense flow of Astra energy?

The lightning armor around Asher reignited, crackling once more as it reformed completely, cloaking him from head to toe in shimmering violet arcs. It was the only thing shielding him from the deadly cold, the only thing keeping him from disintegrating under the strain. Without it, he would be nothing more than prey waiting for the final blow.

He readied himself to move, preparing for the continuation of their clash, but then, Doris’s attention shifted. Her gaze turned sharply toward another direction, and Asher instinctively followed it.

That was when he felt it, a familiar presence approaching fast, blazing across the battlefield with an aura that shattered the air itself.

Within moments, the frozen wasteland beside Asher erupted. The ice splintered and collapsed, debris shooting skyward in violent upheaval. From the swirling haze of dust and frost, a new figure emerged, young, sharp-eyed, no older than nineteen. He had jet-black hair and equally dark eyes, both of which carried an unfathomable depth. Floating beside him was a sleek black saber, humming faintly with restrained power.

Asher immediately recognized the newcomer. No introductions were needed.

Thalric Wargrave, the Ninth Sun, had arrived.

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AUTHOR’S NOTE: Hey everyone, it’s your favourite Author’s birthday today. Every gift is accepted with a warm heart. Also, we are ranked 23rd on the golden ticket ranking, which is outside the top 10 and top 20. We still need your golden ticket for the goal. Thanks for reading