Cleaver Of Sin

Chapter 387: Negotiating

Asher’s figure appeared beneath a sprawling canopy of tall trees, the filtered sunlight pouring down from above and reflecting off his body in soft, shimmering waves. He stood with his hands casually tucked inside his pockets, his presence unshaken, his posture perfectly straight. His purple hair danced to the rhythm of the cool forest breeze, swaying gently as though acknowledging the serenity of the moment.

All around him, numerous assassins concealed within the forest shadows surrounded him, yet Asher did not react. Instead, his eyes remained closed, and he inhaled deeply, as though appreciating, absorbing, and quietly basking in the atmosphere around him.

”This feels kind of nostalgic,” he said aloud, not bothering to keep his thoughts to himself. His voice carried a faint amusement, almost fond. ”Just over a year ago, I was fighting for my life in a forest of assassins during the Wargrave True Awakening, and here I am again... truly nostalgic,” he murmured, his eyes still closed while his thoughts drifted back in time, toward the chaos, bloodshed, and revelation of his True Awakening, an event that had occurred barely six months after his reincarnation into Crymora.

The assassins surrounding Asher remained unnervingly still. Though they were trained killers, they understood the gravity of the situation. The boy standing before them was the Tenth Sun. Even the bravest of their kind would never dare to draw their blades against a Wargrave, unless it pertained to the mandates of the True Awakening. But at this moment, they had a mission to complete, one assigned with a reward that could change their lives forever, no matter the cost or the risk.

Complete the mission, and they could vanish into obscurity, retire in secrecy, and live lavishly with the riches promised to them. They could even flee to another Empire entirely; surely the influence, authority, and connections of the Wargrave would not extend that far. Their eyes remained locked on the Tenth Sun, who seemed to be monologuing about the past with the casual detachment of a man recounting a fond memory rather than anticipating a deadly confrontation.

Despite the fact that Asher had his eyes closed and appeared to have his guard down, none of the assassins made a move. He was a Wargrave, after all, none of them were ever simple opponents. Rumors had already spread like wildfire: during his True Awakening, the Tenth Sun had slaughtered every assassin sent after him. While other Wargraves struggled desperately to simply survive until dawn to complete their trial, the Tenth Sun had done the opposite. He had ended the True Awakening prematurely by wiping out every assassin in the forest.

He was a monster in human skin, a creature hiding behind the facade of a young man who had failed his awakening twice. Only fools would dare underestimate him.

Had their target been anyone else, the assassins would have executed their mission immediately, wasting no time. But against a Wargrave, caution was necessary, and precision was vital. Besides, at other points in the forest, their comrades were currently engaging the Tenth Sun’s teammates, hopefully dividing his attention.

”Virelass, it seems you won’t be able to have a taste of their flesh and blood this time. I’ll be wiping them out with my bare hands for a while before I need your assistance,” Asher continued, speaking as though the assassins surrounding him were nothing more than trees rustling in the wind. He spoke about killing them with his bare hands as casually as if discussing the weather or planning an afternoon stroll.

Yet still, none of the assassins reacted. What if the Tenth Sun was deliberately provoking them into acting first, manipulating them into making a fatal mistake?

Virelass, the soul-bound rapier hanging at Asher’s waist, hummed faintly, a sound only its master could hear. Asher’s eyes fluttered open, his calm purple gaze lowering toward Virelass as he gently stroked its hilt.

”Why, you ask?” Asher murmured softly.

”Well, the Monster Tide mission ended in a single day, and it’s been weeks since I’ve had any real fun. I’ve just been training nonstop. I need to play around for a bit, you know.” Virelass hummed again in response, vibrating with a quiet eagerness.

”Yes, I know, it was barely over a week ago,” Asher sighed, almost exasperated. He continued bickering with his sentient weapon about how they would share the kills. ”Fine, I’ll call upon your help after I’ve handled a few of them... deal?” he asked, and Virelass hummed in agreement, its anticipation simmering beneath the polished metal.

Asher finally shifted his attention away from the rapier and onto the assassins surrounding him. His gaze flickered from one to another, as though counting them or choosing which would die first. The moment his eyes swept across them, every assassin felt their bodies tense, not only in readiness, but in the instinctive, primal fear that came from standing before a Wargrave.

”Sorry for the delay. I was negotiating,” Asher said flatly. ”Let’s begin. I’m sure that even as assassins, you still have families waiting for you.”

The assassins collectively frowned, wondering whether the Tenth Sun was using subtle threats or referring to something more sinister. But Asher had done no such thing; in truth, he simply didn’t see the point in threatening the families of people who were already dead in his eyes.

Asher’s right foot shifted. He took a single step.

And in the next moment, he disappeared.

The assassins had blinked, and he was gone. Before any of them could react, a sickening crack echoed through the forest: the sound of flesh twisting and tearing, bone shattering like brittle wood. A booming impact followed, resonating through the atmosphere like an explosion.

Then came the gentle yet unmistakable drip... drip... drip of blood splattering onto the forest floor.

The assassins’ heads snapped toward the source of the sounds.

And there he stood, Asher Wargrave, the Tenth Sun. The boy they had been watching only moments ago now stood behind them, his hand wrapped tightly around the crushed skull of an assassin whose head he had smashed into the colossal trunk of a tree. The corpse twitched once, then hung lifelessly.

Many assassins swallowed hard. They hadn’t even seen him move. He had taken one step then he erased the distance between them. He had killed their comrade within a fraction of a second.

Panic overtook their training. Without hesitation, every assassin blurred into motion, their bodies flickering backward in streaks of speed and desperate force as they scattered into the shadows. Fear gripped them, mind and body alike. They had come prepared; they had accounted for danger. But they were not prepared for this.

They were assassins, yes, but they were also human. They could feel fear. They could feel terror. And in the presence of the Tenth Sun, they felt both in overwhelming waves.

They were not emotionless killing machines. They were prey, and Asher had already begun the hunt.