Cleaver Of Sin

Chapter 251: Silence

Thalric did not hesitate. He didn’t wait for the haze to clear before he moved. Instead, he tore straight through it, bursting out of the swirling clouds of dust and frost, his sabre gleaming as it cut through the mist toward Doris once more.

Doris’s eyes snapped toward him, filled with a madness sharpened by pain and fury. Wounds marred her once flawless skin, blood streaking down her body in thin rivulets. To Asher, Doris was an immense obstacle, an overwhelming opponent. But to Thalric, she was merely a challenge. Worthy, yes, but not formidable enough to be called a true threat.

In a blur, both figures vanished. They moved at their peak speeds, Astra augmentation coursing through their bodies, amplifying strength and velocity until the very air shattered wherever they went. Ice erupted once again from Doris’s form, but the next instant, a surge of grey energy flowed from Thalric’s sabre, instantly decaying it into vapor.

They moved like raging beasts, relentless and unbreakable. The sheer pressure of their battle made the atmosphere heavy, thick with the weight of unspoken death. The battlefield itself seemed to tremble, as if bearing witness to their fury. Every strike left scars upon the earth, every clash sent shockwaves echoing across the frozen plains.

Neither of them paused, neither stopped. There was no retreat, no hesitation, only the fight and nothing more.

Thalric displayed the full measure of why he bore the title Wargrave. Every one of his attacks was deliberate, calculated, and aimed at vital points with mechanical precision. His sabre moved like liquid silver, fluid, graceful, and deadly. His movements carried a rhythm, each motion flowing seamlessly into the next. The weapon was not merely something he wielded; it was an extension of his very being.

But Doris was no lesser warrior. She struck with the precision of a sculptor carving perfection from marble, each motion measured and refined. Every slash, every thrust, was a calculated attempt to end the fight. Her swordsmanship was an art of millimeters, a science of fatal precision.

And Thalric met her blow for blow. Every strike she unleashed, he countered. Every feint, every deceptive step, he answered with equal poise. His eyes remained cold, unwavering, merciless. He would not leave this battlefield until the woman before him had fallen.

From a distance, Asher frowned. He could hardly follow their movements. They had both gone far beyond what his senses could perceive. All he could hear was the echo of their destruction, the metallic song of blades colliding, the sound of air rupturing with every motion.

But Asher didn’t panic. He knew he was weaker; that much was undeniable. But weakness did not mean surrender. He had no intention of standing idle while others fought.

His mind spun rapidly, possibilities flashing through his thoughts in quick succession. And then, realization struck, gravity.

He knew his mastery over the element was still shallow. Against someone like Doris, gravity manipulation would hardly scratch the surface; using it offensively would be a waste of Astra. But this time, he would not turn it against her, he would use it on himself.

As that decision formed, the gravity surrounding Asher began to fade. The weight on his body seemed to lift, gradually vanishing as if erased from existence.

His logic was simple: by reducing the gravitational pull on himself, he could drastically increase his speed. It was an untested theory, but deep within his intuition, Asher felt it would work.

His body felt lighter, almost ethereal. The crackling lightning coursing through him intensified, responding to the change as if feeding off the newfound freedom. The air around him trembled. His eyes fixed forward, sharp and focused, while his ears attuned to the faintest sound, the ringing clash of Thalric’s and Doris’s blades.

The instant that sound reached him, Asher vanished.

The air exploded behind him, thunder roaring as his form blurred out of existence. Within moments, he was upon them, faster, sharper, deadlier than ever before. His rapier cut through the air with insulting ease, the incandescent blade streaking toward Doris’s neck like a bolt of judgment.

Doris’s teeth clenched as a surge of instinctive fear flooded her veins. She twisted her body at the last possible moment, her waist turning, her shoulders dipping, evading by mere inches. But Asher had anticipated her movement. His Battle Intuition and Omni Perception synchronized perfectly, reading her evasion in real time. Without hesitation, he adjusted mid-swing, redirecting his attack with uncanny accuracy.

The strike landed exactly where he intended.

The sound that followed was sickening, a tearing rip that echoed through the battlefield. Virelass’s blade carved through Doris’s shoulder, severing flesh and bone. A spray of crimson erupted into the cold air, staining the frost beneath them. Doris’s scream tore from her throat, raw and furious.

”YOU OLD FU—” she started, but before the insult could leave her lips, Thalric was already in motion. His body moved with terrifying efficiency, mechanical and emotionless. There was no hesitation, no mercy. His sabre cleaved through the air toward Doris’s neck, its grey sheen trailing decay and inevitability.

Doris didn’t block. She didn’t parry. Instead, she unleashed an overwhelming surge of Astra from her Astra vein. She became the epicenter of an explosion of power, massive cascades of ice erupted outward in every direction, a storm of frozen death threatening to turn the entire Star Academy battlefield into her domain.

Asher felt the violent pressure crash over him even from a distance. He knew instantly that, though his speed had improved, he still lacked the strength to contend with that raw power. Without a moment’s hesitation, he called upon his space element. His form blinked out of existence, reappearing high above the battlefield.

An Astra-forged platform materialized beneath his feet as he appeared in the sky, the energy shimmering beneath him. He stood upon it, steadying his breath as he looked down.

Below, Doris’s fury raged like a tempest. Massive spikes of ice tore through the ground, reaching for Thalric. But Thalric didn’t dodge. He simply raised one hand.

A pulse of Astra burst from his Astra veins, washing over the battlefield. Grey energy erupted outward, devouring the ice in an expanding wave. Wherever the decay energy touched, frost melted, structures crumbled, and even the air seemed to wither.

Doris’s expression darkened. One opponent had vanished into the sky, the other had effortlessly shattered her attack. Her Astra reserves were thinning, her breathing heavy. She looked down at her body, her right arm was gone. She’d frozen the bleeding stump to stop the blood flow, but the damage was severe. Escape crossed her mind.

Thalric must have read that thought, because he blurred forward instantly. His figure multiplied, echoes of his image flickered across the battlefield, fading as soon as they appeared. He pressed his advantage without pause, his sabre slashing toward Doris’s head like a stroke from the reaper’s scythe.

Doris moved, her single remaining arm swinging her katana in a desperate parry. Her missing limb didn’t slow her down, her stance remained balanced, her speed feral.

But just as the blades met, Asher vanished from the sky.

He flickered into existence behind Doris, his rapier already in motion, glowing with lethal Astra. The air screamed as Virelass cut downward in a single, world-ending arc.

Doris’s instincts screamed in alarm. She heard the air split behind her, but there was no time, no space, to react.

And then, silence.

Like a razor slicing through parchment, Asher’s rapier sang through the air. Virelass cleaved through flesh and bone with chilling ease, severing Doris’s head in one clean motion.

Her body crumpled to the ice below, collapsing with a dull thud. Blood erupted in a crimson fountain, staining the white ground in a spreading pool of red.

For a long moment, no one spoke.

Only the crackling of fading lightning and the soft hiss of dissolving frost filled the air, a grim requiem for a fallen foe.

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