Cleaver Of Sin

Chapter 358: A Dangerous Factual Idea

As the crew sat together in silence, Finch found himself drifting deep into thought. Over the past few days, he had repeatedly reflected on his time within the Wargrave estate. He had hoped, at the very least, that his Good Luck ability would activate even once, allowing him to encounter a Wargrave or something remotely significant.

But none of that had happened. For the first time in a long while, Finch felt as though his Good Luck had failed him, an odd and unsettling sensation he had never imagined he would experience.

’If only I could manually activate and deactivate it,’ he mused to himself, already imagining something as absurd yet desirable as a Moon falling for him.

Although he entertained such fantasies, Finch wasn’t truly serious. He knew exactly how overpowered his Good Luck ability was, if he could activate or deactivate it at will, the ability would no doubt come with ridiculous, immense, and possibly unbearable restrictions or limitations. After all, what was the point of possessing an overpowered ability if one could never properly utilize it without consequences?

’Is there any way to get stronger faster?’ he wondered, his gaze fixed on the sky above him. His thoughts spun in his mind like the gears of a looping clock. After several minutes of mental wandering, he released a long internal sigh, having come up with nothing even remotely useful.

’By the end of the year, I should have climbed from the 200th rank to at least the top 30,’ he told himself. He knew well enough that he couldn’t magically leap into the top ten out of nowhere. Even aiming for the top thirty felt like a generous expectation he had set for himself. In truth, he had no idea what rank he would realistically end up at once the year came to a close.

’Sigh... what is the point of challenging others for their rank when it doesn’t even come with meaningful benefits? Pride? Name? Status? A slightly better room?’ he asked himself calmly. ’Only the top ten enjoy any real privileges, and the top three enjoy them even more.’ But could he challenge the top ten? No. Attempting something so reckless would be no different from suicide.

’So I’ve really become a serious person who wants to train and become stronger, huh?’ Finch mused quietly, a faint smile almost curving his lips. Prior to this, before meeting Asher, Finch’s only true friend had been William. Unlike William, who had always aimed to grow stronger and climb to the peak of the world, Finch had never possessed such lofty dreams.

Yes, he had wanted to grow stronger, but only because strength was the way of Crymora. Previously, all he had ever wanted was to live a peaceful, perhaps even boring life with his sister, father, and mother. Peace, however, was always a complicated concept.

When he inherited the Whale Barony, he would inevitably face the yearly Monster Tide. But even that didn’t matter much to Finch. He, and many others, had grown so accustomed to it that it had become a way of life, no different from sleeping and waking each day.

Not everyone in Crymora was excessively ambitious. Not everyone woke up eager to become the strongest or obsessively chased the idea of unimaginable power. Some cherished their simple moments. Some loved the place they were already in. They were satisfied with what they had and saw no need to chase anything more, for they had found genuine contentment in the achievements they already possessed.

Finch had once felt content with what he had, or rather, what he had believed he had. Throughout his time in the Whale Barony, he never dreamt of more. He never wished for anything beyond his ordinary life. Even when William spoke passionately about becoming stronger, Finch simply didn’t care.

But now, after spending nearly two months within the Star Academy, his entire mindset had undergone a complete transformation. Finch couldn’t help but view himself as a frog who had lived his whole life inside a well. He had looked at the world through the narrow scope of his small barony. He had convinced himself that he was satisfied, that he needed nothing else, but it had all been an illusion, a false satisfaction that had never truly belonged to him.

After meeting Asher, after experiencing battle after battle, after witnessing Asher achieve things that bordered on the impossible, Finch finally realized a truth he hadn’t known he needed: he had never been content to begin with. He had never trained seriously. He had only done the barest minimum, the minimum of all minimums, because he believed he didn’t need more.

But despite doing so little, he still ranked 234th out of thousands who trained every single day, who pushed their bodies and abilities to their limits from the moment they awakened at the age of fifteen to seventeen. That alone spoke volumes about how talented he, Finch, truly was.

’I wonder if my Good Luck ability can evolve?’ he thought, curiosity creeping into his heart. It wasn’t unheard of for awakened abilities to evolve and grow stronger. Finch couldn’t help but wonder what would happen if his Good Luck ability evolved.

Would battles even matter anymore? Would enemies simply drop dead at his feet before the fight even began? Would misfortune mysteriously befall all who opposed him?

But once again, reality struck him. Most abilities that had ever evolved had done so because their users pushed them to their absolute limits. His Good Luck ability, however, was a passive-active type that activated on its own whims, as if governed by a will or instinct separate from his own. How could an ability that behaved like that possibly be pushed to any kind of limit?

How could one push something to its limit when one couldn’t even control it?

Besides, there wasn’t a known, documented method to evolve an ability. If there were, people would attempt it every waking moment of their lives, desperately pushing their abilities in hopes of unlocking a stronger version.

Still, Finch’s thoughts drifted stubbornly. ’Can I fool it into activating?’ His mind veered toward something dangerous. ’If I put myself in harm’s way, it will be forced to activate.’ His mind birthed a reckless, poisonous idea.

A dangerously factual idea.

His Good Luck ability always worked whenever he was in danger, whenever he was moments away from sustaining either a normal or critical injury. It would activate instantly and save him. This was one of its basic, most reliable functions.

By continuously placing himself in death’s shadow, by repeatedly courting danger, he might be able to force his Good Luck ability to evolve.

But that begged several unsettling questions: If he pursued this perilous path, how long would he have to endure it? How long would he have to dance with death? Was there even a guarantee that his ability would evolve? Could an ability like his influence itself and force its own evolution?

And if not... what would become of Finch then? Would he die in his path?

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AUTHOR’S NOTE: Please, a major announcement was made on the last Chapter of today, please read.

Also, if you have any ideas for the second mission, you can make them known in this Chapter’s comments.