Cleaver Of Sin

Chapter 403: That Guy

Zarek already knew there was only one fate awaiting the Assassination Guild; Obliteration.

There would be no negotiations, no mercy, and no second chances. He understood Azaron far too well to expect anything else. This was not a battle driven by vengeance for the Assassination Guild daring to go after his son, nor was it truly about the guild breaking their long-standing agreement with the Wargraves. No, this was far simpler, and far more dangerous than either of those reasons.

It was a battle fueled purely by Azaron’s boredom, and by his overwhelming love for battle, carnage, and destruction.

”Should I contact the First Sun?” Zarek asked calmly, his voice pulling Azaron back from the storm of thoughts swirling within his mind.

Azaron’s attention returned fully to reality as he scoffed lightly. ”Why would I want to invite that guy?” he replied dismissively. ”If he comes, we’d have to divide the fun between us.”

He spoke as though he were not referring to his own child, one whom he was deeply proud of.

”When he fought a Sinvaira some time ago,” Azaron continued, ”he didn’t invite me, even though he knew perfectly well that a Sinvaira was responsible for killing his grandfather.” His tone hardened slightly as he finished. ”So why should I invite him now?”

Zarek sighed inwardly at Azaron’s words. To him, this father and son were simply two sides of the same coin. Both were obsessed with battle, and both refused, absolutely refused, to share their prey, regardless of circumstance.

Although Azaron had already decided to wipe out the Assassination Guild entirely, he was well aware that such an action might have consequences. The existence of powerful external threats played a role in the True Awakening of the next generation of Wargraves. Eliminating one of those threats could potentially slow that process.

But what did that matter to him?

That responsibility belonged to the next Primarch, not Azaron. If the future Primarch could not overcome such a minor hurdle, then they were never worthy of the title to begin with.

”Although I don’t want to invite Malrik,” Azaron added casually, ”that doesn’t mean I don’t want to call my first daughter.”

He paused briefly before continuing. ”I’ll happily invite Wuthenya.”

To Azaron, Wuthenya still needed to polish a few things before stepping into the next Life Rank. And what better training could there be than facing a nest of elite assassins?

”I understand,” Zarek replied with a faint smile. He knew full well that Azaron’s willingness to invite Wuthenya stemmed from one simple fact, she was weaker than Malrik.

Rising from his seat, Zarek stood tall. Astra energy began to flow gently through his Astra veins, circulating smoothly as he prepared to activate his awakened ability. As the energy gathered in his palm, Zarek brought his hands together in a single clap.

The instant his palms met, Astra energy erupted outward, flooding the entire study.

Space itself twisted violently, folding in on itself as though answering a silent call. From within that distortion, a woman’s figure began to emerge. Her visage formed clearly, green hair cascading down her back, sharp black eyes, and a tight black top that stopped just above her navel. A belt wrapped around her waist, fastened with numerous daggers of varying shapes and designs. Her beauty was striking, the kind that most would only witness once in an entire lifetime.

She was Wuthenya Wargrave, the Second Moon.

The moment she appeared, she did not bother looking around. Instead, she spoke immediately.

”Uncle Zarek, what do you need me for?”

Her voice was gentle and calm, filling the room effortlessly.

She showed no surprise at her sudden summoning. Wuthenya was well acquainted with Zarek’s ability, having been summoned countless times since childhood. His awakened power allowed him to place marks on individuals and forcibly summon them to his location, leaving them no ability to resist.

Of course, the ability came with severe restrictions. The greater the distance between Zarek and his target, the heavier the Astra cost. Likewise, the stronger the summoned individual, the greater the strain on his Astra reserves. These limitations alone were enough to drain him significantly with each use.

Additionally, Zarek’s mark granted no surveillance capabilities. He could neither spy on nor track the location of those he marked, it only allowed him to summon them. Nothing more.

The moment Wuthenya’s senses fully expanded, she detected Azaron’s presence.

”Father,” she said casually as she walked toward a nearby chair and took a seat, ”it’s been a while. How have you been?”

”It’s good to see you too, Wuthenya,” Azaron replied warmly. ”How is your training progressing?”

”It’s going well,” she answered honestly. ”I just need a little push here and there.”

”I will take my leave, Patriarch,” Zarek said respectfully as he bowed.

Now that Wuthenya was present, he could no longer behave casually around Azaron. That familiarity existed only when the two of them were alone.

Azaron’s golden eyes shifted from his daughter to Zarek. ”Gather the Knights,” he instructed calmly. ”I’ll brief them shortly, after I’m done speaking with my daughter.”

”As the Patriarch orders,” Zarek replied, bowing once more before turning and leaving the room.

Azaron then turned his attention back to Wuthenya. ”I might be able to provide the push you need.”

Wuthenya tilted her head slightly, thoughtful. She knew her father would not summon her from hundreds of kilometers away without reason. And the order given to Zarek confirmed her suspicion.

”Who are we attacking?” she asked immediately, having reached a conclusion.

Azaron smiled. ”The Assassin Guild.”

Wuthenya raised an eyebrow in mild surprise. ”So they’ve finally crossed the line, huh?” she said rhetorically.

”They have,” Azaron replied, explaining the reasons behind his decision.

”Sigh...” Wuthenya murmured softly. ”I wonder when people will finally learn.” Her gaze shifted slightly as a thought crossed her mind.

’It seems the youngest is becoming stronger,’ she thought. ’I wonder how many years it will take before he matches me.’

Although she loved her brother dearly, she had no intention of standing still while her siblings surpassed her. She was the eldest sister, and she intended to remain so, not just in name or title, but in power.