CLEAVER OF SIN-Chapter 67: Futile

A few seconds passed as Astra surged toward Asher, flooding his Astra veins with radiant energy. He doubted the assassins could track him through the Astra he drew, after all, throughout the forest, countless monsters also absorbed Astra in varying degrees.

In this chaotic symphony of energy, he was merely one among millions, an indistinguishable current in a vast, flowing Astra. The perfect cover.

Amid the stillness, the system’s chime broke the silence.

[Ding]

[Illusion Mind Invasion Detected. Mind Shield Activated.]

Asher’s breath caught as the notification flickered before him. ’An illusion,’ he realized.

Not even a minute had passed since he concealed himself, yet he had already been discovered. Just like before, with the arrow, he had barely hidden for a few seconds before being exposed.

Though the system warned him of the illusion, Asher remained motionless. He didn’t react. Instead, he stood still, his body slack, eyes distant, like a man truly caught within the illusion’s grasp.

Within moments, another assassin emerged atop the tree. She didn’t hesitate, every passing second was an opportunity for her target to shatter the illusion.

Closing the distance in a swift, silent dash, the bracers on her forearms shifted with a faint metallic whisper as twin hidden blades extended downward. Their sleek edges glinted beneath the moon’s silver light.

Without pause, she swept her arms in a crossing arc, aiming to sever Asher’s throat with a meticulous twin-blade strike.

But before her blades could so much as graze Asher, Virelass materialized in a blur of light and shadow, flashing in a single, merciless movement.

The assassin’s breath caught as a searing pain exploded through her arms. Both forearms fell, severed cleanly at the wrist. Blood erupted in twin arcs, painting the air in crimson. Her mouth opened to scream, but before sound could escape, Asher was already behind her.

His hand clamped around her neck like iron. With a sharp, brutal twist, a sickening crack echoed through the stillness of the night, and the light in her eyes vanished into the void.

A faint whistle cut through the air, a sound only sharpened senses could catch. It struck Asher’s ears like a warning bell. Within the scope of his Omni Perception, the incoming projectiles revealed themselves: senbon, fine, slender throwing needles.

Their tips shimmered with a dark green sheen. Poison. He didn’t need to wonder; he recognized the toxin at a glance.

Without a command, Virelass flashed behind him. Its form twisted mid-air, transforming into a silver streak that danced across the canopy.

Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding. Ding.

The sound rang out in rapid succession, like a deadly melody echoing through the treetops, as Virelass effortlessly deflected every senbon in a flawless arc. frёeweɓηovel_coɱ

This was Asher’s way of conserving stamina. Trivial threats like this, or even the silent death of the first assassin, were well within Virelass’s capabilities. There was no need for him to lift a finger.

Suddenly, Asher’s Instinctive Adaptation flared to life. In an instant, his body vanished from the tree branch and reappeared atop another.

But he was too late.

Pain erupted at his heel, sharp and burning. His eyes flicked toward the branch he had just vacated, and there he saw it: a hand retreating into the ground, a blood-stained dagger gripped tightly in its grasp.

Asher’s expression darkened.

He knew it, the earth below his feet was the blind spot of his Omni Perception. It couldn’t penetrate beneath the surface. Although he’d sensed the dagger’s hilt just as it broke through the soil, the reaction window had been too narrow. Dodging without injury had been impossible.

The strike had been accurate, aimed at his achilles tendon, a calculated attempt to cripple his movement.

But it was futile.

Even before the blood had time to trail down his skin, the wound closed in an instant, sealing shut as if it had never been there. His foot, whole once more.

Virelass, his soul-bound weapon, didn’t need to be in hand to heal him. It mended his wounds from anywhere, its will intertwined with his own.

Asher dropped from the tree in a fluid motion. The moment his feet touched the ground, he felt it, the sudden emergence of heat. What had been a calm, eerie air turned blistering in an instant... and then it spiked violently.

His purple eyes snapped toward the source.

A roaring wave of fire surged toward him, devouring everything in its path.

But Asher didn’t flinch.

He didn’t wait for the inferno to reach him, instead, he charged toward it.

Just as his body launched forward, purple lightning crackled to life around him, encasing his entire frame in a violent lightning storm. Without hesitation, he plunged headfirst into the oncoming blaze, no fear, no pause, only motion.

The searing heat crashed against his skin, but he felt nothing. The lightning cloaking his body repelled the flames, shielding him as he tore through the inferno with unrelenting force.

He burst from the other side, steam trailing behind him as the lightning veil dissipated.

His gaze, those vivid purple eyes, locked onto the assassin standing just ahead, frozen in disbelief. The man hadn’t expected him to charge through the fire. The shock on his face said it all.

But Asher wasn’t here to marvel at his reaction.

Lightning arced across his arm, dancing wildly across his skin as he closed the distance in a heartbeat.

Then — a wet, ripping sound.

Asher’s hand punched clean through the assassin’s chest. Flesh gave way like molten butter, sizzling and parting around the crackling energy. His arm erupted out of the man’s back, fist clenched around a still-beating heart.

The air split again with sharp whistles as more needles tore toward him. From all directions, arrows followed, raining down in unison. They converged upon him like a collapsing dome, each projectile seeking to pierce and tear, as if to reduce him to a ragged heap riddled with holes.

Feeling the threat swarm in, Asher’s hand tightened.

The heart in his grasp was crushed into pulp.

Without hesitation, he seized the lifeless assassin by the collar and hurled the body toward one of the incoming volleys. The corpse spun midair, intercepting a needle with a dull thud as the deadly storm closed in.

Without the slightest hesitation, Asher dropped into a stance. Virelass vanished from wherever it had been, only to reappear instantly in his grasp, drawn to him like a loyal phantom.

Purple lightning bloomed.

Astra surged through his veins, igniting his body and rapier in radiant arcs of violent energy. The air trembled around him.

The assassins, sensing what was coming, leapt backward in instinctive panic, desperate to escape the surge they could feel gathering.

But it was far too late.

In a single, fluid motion, Asher spun, executing a full 360-degree slash with his rapier.

Thunder exploded.

The air ruptured with an ear-splitting boom as a massive ring of purple lightning, shaped like a spinning blade, erupted outward in a storming wave of destruction.

The wave consumed everything.

Arrows and needles disintegrated midair, reduced to nothing within the blinding surge. Trees were cleaved apart like twigs, the ground erupted with concussive force, and lightning danced wildly, tearing, coiling, devouring everything in its path.

The assassins didn’t stand a chance. The moment the wave reached them, they were engulfed. Screams were snatched away by the roaring storm, their bodies charred and shredded before they could finish turning to run.

The scent of scorched flesh filled the air.

Where once there had been coordinated killers and towering trees, now only smoldering corpses and broken earth remained, littered across a battlefield baptized in lightning.

Asher stood upon the destruction like he was a god, as purple lightning ran through his form, his rapier in hand, his purple eyes glowing under the moonlight, his purple hair dancing to the rhythm of his own destruction.

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