Absolute Cheater-Chapter 372: Emily II

Asher stepped away from the main hall, quietly making his way up the curved staircase that led to the eastern wing of the mansion—his wing. His footsteps slowed as he reached the end of the corridor, stopping before the familiar double doors of his room.

He placed a hand on the old brass handle, hesitating for just a breath.

Then, slowly, he opened the door.

It was exactly as he remembered.

The room was large, with high ceilings and tall windows that opened to a view of the floating gardens beyond. The walls were deep onyx and gold, his family's colors, with shelves still filled with relics from his younger years—soul crystals, training manuals, and trinkets from old expeditions. His bed, a wide silverwood frame draped in dark crimson sheets, still sat in the center, untouched for years but carefully maintained.

He stepped inside and closed the door behind him, exhaling softly as a strange mix of comfort and unease filled him. This room had once been his sanctuary. Now, it felt like stepping into a preserved memory.

Then came a soft knock.

He turned just as the door opened and both Valeris and Veyra stepped inside, pausing at the threshold.

"This was your room?" Valeris asked, her eyes drifting around the space.

Asher nodded. "Yeah. My own corner of the world. Everything in here... is mine ."

Veyra moved to the bookshelf, tracing a fingertip over a carved plaque that read Victory, earned—not given. "It still smells like you."

Asher laughed lightly. "Emily probably kept it that way on purpose."

He gestured them both inside. "You don't have to stand at the door. Come in."

Valeris gave him a look. "Are you sure? We can stay in the guest quarters if you want some space."

Asher shook his head, stepping toward the bed and sitting down on the edge of it. "No. I want you both here. If I'm reclaiming my past, I'm doing it with the people who stood with me through everything. This place may have been mine… but it's yours now, too."

Veyra's cheeks flushed as she stepped forward and sat beside him, her hand finding his. Valeris moved with more confidence, folding her arms and smirking as she looked around the room once more.

"Well then, Lord Magnus," she said teasingly, "do we get to redecorate?"

He rolled his eyes but smiled. "Only if you keep the bed."

Valeris arched a brow. "I plan to."

Asher leaned back onto the bed, resting his weight on his palms as he looked toward the high ceiling. His eyes traced the old carvings—sigils and ancestral markings that once gave him pride, but now felt distant, like echoes from another life.

Veyra curled beside him, resting her head lightly on his shoulder. She said nothing, but the way her fingers traced slow, thoughtful circles against his wrist told him everything—she could feel the weight he was carrying. She always could.

Valeris moved to the window, parting the thick curtains and gazing out into the floating gardens beyond. The soft glow of twilight bathed her face in amber light, and for a long moment, she didn't speak.

"You held yourself together better than I thought you would," she finally said.

Asher didn't respond right away.

"I think… I had already broken a long time ago," he murmured. "What's left of me knows how to keep standing. That's all."

Veyra sat up slowly beside him, brushing a lock of his hair behind his ear. "That's not all, Asher. You still know how to love. How to care. You didn't lose that."

He looked at her, then at Valeris—who finally turned around and leaned against the window frame, arms crossed.

"You have us now," she said. "Whatever this place brings… you're not facing it alone."

Asher smiled faintly. "I know. And I'm not letting either of you go."

Just then, a knock came at the door.

A moment later, it creaked open and Emily stepped inside, carrying a silver tray with three steaming bowls. "Soup's done," she said, her voice warm. "Golden bone broth with ember roots. Just like I used to make for you when you came home bleeding from training."

Asher blinked, his chest tightening. "You still remember that?"

Emily gave him a look. "I remember everything, young master." She set the tray on a side table and added softly, "I always hoped you'd come back one day."

Valeris stood and took two bowls, handing one to Veyra. Emily moved to Asher last, offering him the third with a small smile. "Eat before it gets cold."

"Thanks," he said gently. Then he looked at her, really looked, and added, "And… for never leaving."

Emily's eyes glistened just a little as she reached out and cupped his cheek with her free hand. "You were never a burden, Asher. You were always a gift."

He gave her a real smile this time. And for a moment, things felt simple again.

The three of them sat together, eating in silence broken only by the quiet clink of spoons against porcelain. No politics. No enemies. No expectations.

Just three souls… and the warmth of a home finally rekindled.

Asher spent the following days quietly within the walls of his old mansion. Though fully recognized now as the heir of the Magnus family—and already at the Peak of World Rank—he knew better than to rush. There was no realm left for him to ascend to immediately, no cultivation barrier he could break simply through will. His power had reached a terrifying level, one that could rival entire legions.

So for now… he rested. He trained. He spent time with Valeris, Veyra, and Emily. He took walks through the ancestral gardens, meditated under the soulstone trees, and even helped repair old relics in the mansion's inner halls. It was quiet… but not idle.

And on the third day, someone unexpected came to visit.

A pulse of dark energy rippled across the edge of the Magnus estate, enough to alert the warding sigils. The mansion's protective arrays shimmered but didn't resist—because the guest was already marked as a "possible ally." One Asher had authorized long ago.

She emerged from the shadows at twilight, wrapped in layered dark robes, her silver-blonde hair falling in a long braid behind her. Her eyes gleamed with a predatory light. A cold presence followed her—half death, half shadow—and the air around her trembled with quiet menace.

Catherine Bloodcrown.

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