CLEAVER OF SIN Chapter 4: Primarch

Ethan’s eyes shot to the door upon hearing the knock. After a short hesitation, he responded steadily.

"Enter."

The door swung open with a faint squeak, showing a woman in a maid’s outfit. She looked around forty years old, her actions deliberate and elegant.

She stepped inside quietly, shutting the door softly before dropping into a courteous bow.

"Good morning, Young Master," she said, her tone even and composed, though she purposely kept her gaze away from Ethan’s.

Ethan observed her in silence for a bit. From the memories, he knew her as the personal maid appointed by the Duke.

Her name was Lyra.

When the Wargrave family’s current leader received a new heir, tradition demanded assigning a personal maid or butler to the child.

These servants acted not just as helpers but also as defenders, quiet sentinels charged with protecting the young master until his awakening.

Outsiders had no idea of these maids’ and butlers’ real power. No child could leave the Duke’s residence before awakening, so none of these servants had faced battle. The rule stood unbreakable, always upheld without fail.

Usually, their role ended when the young master turned fifteen and awakened successfully. But with Asher’s two failed attempts, Lyra’s service stretched on endlessly, tying her to him until he achieved success.

"Good morning, Lyra." Ethan replied in an even voice, giving a small nod of recognition.

Lyra stayed silent. She moved closer, starting to undo his attire.

Ethan’s expression hardened into a scowl right away.

"No need to worry. I’ll handle my own baths from here on." he declared resolutely, stopping her in her tracks.

Lyra gazed at him for several seconds, her eyes holding subtle bewilderment.

Ethan got why. She had tended to Asher from infancy, washing and clothing him without fail every day.

Yet Ethan wasn’t Asher. He couldn’t allow an older woman, or anybody, to manage such an intimate task.

It just seemed improper and strange.

"As you wish, Young Master," Lyra answered gently, retreating with a deferential bow.

Ethan got up from the bed and headed to the bathroom, following the path from his memories.

’Even if this world lags in technology, at least I can still have a decent bath.’ he reflected inwardly.

After a while, he came out feeling invigorated. Lyra waited there steadily, clutching a new outfit.

Without speaking or letting her help, Ethan grabbed the clothes and put them on, intent on keeping his recent self-reliance.

"Is my father at the estate?" Ethan questioned, eyeing his image in the mirror.

"The Primarch is here in the estate, Young Master," Lyra answered quickly.

Ethan nodded faintly in response.

"And what alcohol would you like today, Young Master?" Lyra asked with subdued courtesy.

Ethan’s mind froze at the query. Asher’s recollections showed that post-second awakening failure, booze had turned into a routine escape, a frantic bid to dull the mounting hopelessness.

’How did this fellow’s body not weaken after all that drinking?’ Ethan pondered, baffled at how Asher’s form stayed tougher and hardier than his previous one, despite a full year of indulgence and zero proper training.

’Indeed, a lineage of beasts.’ he mused, shaking his head in muted astonishment.

"My seventeenth birthday approaches in mere days, so my third and last awakening looms. I plan to alter things beforehand. No more alcohol or anything similar."

Ethan stated evenly, his tone unwavering.

A sharp gleam flashed in Lyra’s eyes as she examined him closely.

’Has his resolve come back at last?’ she pondered to herself, seeing Ethan pose casually in front of the mirror.

She fully grasped the risks: failure in this ultimate awakening meant exile without question. And bound to the Young Master until his success, she’d share that doom.

His downfall would drag her down, while his triumph would be solely his.

"As you order, Young Master. Breakfast will arrive soon." Lyra inclined her head respectfully before leaving the chamber.

Ethan looked from the mirror as he pivoted and settled into a seat. His thoughts surged forward, scheming his upcoming steps.

Just days remained before the awakening, so no rush for training or bodily prep—he’d bide his time until it came.

He held zero doubt about succeeding. Asher’s prior stumbles didn’t apply to him merely because he now inhabited the body.

’It looks like Asher ended his life right before his decisive awakening. He’d given up on victory without even attempting.’ Ethan contemplated softly.

Still, he refrained from condemning Asher. Judgment wasn’t his role. People confronted truth in varied ways: some ran from it, others seized it, some sought salvation through pleas, and a handful just confronted it head-on, indifferent and steady.

While Ethan sensed Asher’s lingering feelings—the hopelessness, fury, thirst for payback in his dying moments—he refused to shoulder that load for an unfamiliar soul.

He wouldn’t squander time pursuing payback for one unable to face his destiny.

The door squeaked again as Lyra returned, wheeling a food cart over to Ethan. In quick, expert moves, she set the plates orderly on the table in front of him.

"Return in twenty minutes," Ethan instructed steadily, picking up his utensils and starting his meal.

’The library comes first,’ he decided amid chews. ’With no world knowledge in the memories, that’s my source for truths, once I finish eating.’

His actions flowed smoothly, nearly instinctive, shaped by the polished manners of aristocracy etched into Asher’s frame.

’What over-the-top surprises does this realm hold?’ Ethan pondered wordlessly while dining. ’Demons overrunning the realm? Dungeons popping up all over? Or a colossal tower scraping the skies, packed with a hundred levels of lethal challenges?’

Moments flew by unseen, and suddenly, the twenty minutes were up in a flash.