CLEAVER OF SIN Chapter 613: Perfection

Malrik observed Asher deep in contemplation, his face shifting through countless expressions while he clenched his fist tightly. He could easily deduce that his younger brother was troubled by the villagers' deaths. The reason was straightforward: Asher had begun acting this way right after that father and son were brought up, marking the only imperfection in his otherwise impeccable mission.

"Nobody is perfect, little brother," Malrik said while watching the Knights training hard on the far side of the structure, "you're just a young boy still developing, permitted to attempt and stumble, to tumble and stand tall once more. Even with your sharp mind, strategies rarely unfold exactly as imagined," he added steadily, his blue locks fluttering in the breeze as a subtle, comforting grin lingered on his mouth, his voice infused with seasoned insight and gentle empathy.

"Though I'd like to push you toward perfection, that would be misleading you," he stopped, facing Asher before going on, "perfection doesn't exist—it's nothing but stagnation for those unable to embrace transformation. Accepting perfection means denying change. Denying change means denying growth. Denying growth means welcoming inertia masked as flawlessness. Those embracing perfection are merely fearful," he declared, giving Asher’s shoulder a pat, realizing the boy was too weary to constantly rearrange his hair just for the wind—or Malrik—to mess it up again.

Asher broke from his reverie upon hearing Malrik’s advice, staying quiet briefly since he wasn't sure how to reply. Countless individuals raved about perfection, pursued it without cease, yearned for it like the final goal.

On Earth, folks endlessly praised perfection, idolized it, even revered it, yet right here and now, his older brother refuted it, shattering the myth like a mere mirage.

Certainly, as Ethan back on Earth, others had mocked him as perfection incarnate, the ultimate man, the flawless kid. Tall, striking, fit, rich, and top scholar with a spotless CGPA—it stood to reason they'd view him as the ideal human, a pinnacle others dreamed of but could never touch, a benchmark forced upon him unwillingly.

'I’m not perfect,' Asher reflected inwardly, and indeed, he'd never once truly thought so, not in any instant of vanity or triumph.

His scheme to rescue all had faltered—so be it?

Did the world owe it to twist to his desires, guaranteeing his schemes succeeded perfectly just because he was brilliant and foresaw moves ahead?

Did existence have to match his hopes solely because he willed it?

He needed only to learn from it, adjust, polish his methods, make vital tweaks, sharpening his perspective so next time, even tiny oversights wouldn't claim blameless lives, so he'd emerge superior, keener, more vigilant, more ready.

"Thank you, Big Brother," Asher said with a modest yet sincere smile, brimming with thanks and steadfast resolve.

Malrik returned the smile, spotting echoes of his own youth in Asher. Those remarks on perfection weren't his own—they came from their mother, Lily of the Abyss, uttered in one of his initial drills, words forever carved into his soul and spirit, treasures he'd borne since that moment.

'You’d be proud of the man he’s turning into, Mom,' Malrik pondered silently, his chest clenching at memories of their mother, a brief pang rippling through like a far-off whisper. As the eldest child, he'd savored her affection longer than any Sun or Moon kin, soaking in a glow others knew only fleetingly.

'I bet she’s watching from wherever she rests,' he decided, shifting his eyes back to the Knights still drilling away, scrutinizing them intently as if eager to fix their off-kilter stances, his thoughts pushing him to intervene and perfect their forms, shape them into elite warriors.

While Malrik kept his focus on the practicing Knights, Asher’s mind wandered to the villages—like Blackstone Village he'd hit first, and Sand Village where he'd been snatched. Though their people were gone, gold coins were all he could offer in amends. True, wealth couldn't revive lost spouses, kids, parents, siblings, or heal shattered spirits or wipe away sorrow, but even so...

It would assist. It would lighten the load, reduce the money woes crushing those hamlets after they'd scraped together funds for the task. It was the smallest gesture of accountability he could manage. Thousands of platinum coins sat idle for him, idle like forgotten relics, and that surplus alone sufficed, plus he could gather more effortlessly anytime.

That decided, Asher committed his next step to memory, fixing it as an urgent priority.

"Big Brother, I need your assistance with something," Asher called, drawing Malrik’s eyes from the drenched, gasping, drained Knights pushing through their grueling session.

"What is it, little brother?" Malrik answered promptly, his voice firm and resolute, prepared to grant any favor Asher asked.

"There is a boy named Hito that I know from the First Trisnin Ground..." Asher launched into his explanation without pause, outlining his hunches and reasoning plainly for Malrik to grasp.

Indeed, every Wargraves recruit faced a thorough background probe first—a routine safeguard for safety and allegiance. Yet investigations varied in depth, as usual.

"Of course, there could be nothing there, and I am simply grasping at shadows," Asher said with a sigh, trying to imagine himself as Hito. Facing betrayal claims from a companion or peer wasn't trivial; it was a grave charge, not to be flung lightly, yet impossible to dismiss.

Malrik stayed quiet briefly before nodding with a slight grin, "it’s good that you brought this to my attention. If it is nothing, then it is nothing. One can never be too careful, little brother," he affirmed, resolving to prioritize the probe right after wrapping up with Asher.

Asher had extracted Malrik’s vow against seizing Hito or using torment to extract truths or similar extremes. He'd insisted on a full probe beforehand, averting harm to any innocent.

'If this Hito kid truly belongs to them, their Instigator branch will stir during the check,' Malrik contemplated within, as if envisioning the fallout already, as if clutching the initial strand of this shadowy group. Slim, faint, breakable as it was, it remained a lead—enough to start pulling apart a vast conspiracy.

Regarding Hito himself, Malrik felt neutral. Why fuss over some kid, a nobody in the bigger picture, unless that kid revealed hidden depths?