CLEAVER OF SIN Chapter 629: Move

Far removed by thousands of kilometers from the Wargrave Ducal lands, within the bustling capital of the Zarethorn Empire, everyday life proceeded without interruption. Nobles paraded about like rulers of the entire world, commoners toiled relentlessly just to stay alive, Adventurers and Mercenaries advanced with clear intent toward their assigned tasks, while Merchants and traders labored without cease to secure lucrative deals amid sly barters and trades.

In essence, this day mirrored every other, and right at the pulsing core of the Zarethorn Empire's capital rose the Imperial Estate, housing the Emperor and Royal family in matchless grandeur.

High above, thousands of meters skyward, Malrik materialized in a sudden haze, his gaze icy and stripped of any emotion, his aura oddly missing as if he blended seamlessly into the void of that instant. Once Asher revealed the mind control over Emperor Zolthemir Lux Vanthelmor, Malrik's immediate urge had driven him straight here to obliterate the ruler from reality without a second thought.

Yet, after heeding substantial advice from his trusted right-hand man and devoted butler, Conrad, Malrik ultimately refrained from a outright assault on the Emperor. Still, this didn't erase his resolve to face the man; he merely opted for an alternate path, arriving now in search of truths.

Plunging toward the Imperial Estate at breakneck velocity, Malrik touched down smoothly and with perfect poise. Not a word escaped his lips as he strode to the entrance gate, where two Knights stood guard with steadfast poise. The instant their sights locked on Malrik, a faint tension rippled through their forms, signaling their grasp of his formidable fame.

Malrik’s typical assured grin had vanished entirely; in its place lingered a blank visage, like one chiseled from frigid, emotionless rock.

The gate Knights bowed at once, hailing him with deference, "We welcome the First Sun to the Imperial Estate," they intoned together, swinging the gate wide without the briefest pause.

Malrik brushed past without the slightest nod to their salute, and in a flicker, Conrad materialized a pace behind, stationed precisely to guard against his Young Master ignoring their earlier talk and yielding to raw fury.

Minutes of striding later, Malrik reached the Imperial Palace, only to find his path blocked by four Knights at the threshold.

"We greet the First Sun," the quartet dipped in unison with measured bows. Though they served the Emperor directly as Knights, their commoner status demanded such courtesy.

Malrik stopped dead. No reply came to their words; his piercing blue eyes fixed on them alone, that stare issuing a wordless, imperious demand to clear his way.

"Might I ask if you have an appointment with the Emperor, First Sun?" one Knight inquired steadily, holding Malrik’s stare without flinching.

Conrad, knowing full well the razor-edge of Malrik’s tolerance, moved to intervene with a tactful clarification, but Malrik cut in before a syllable left his lips.

"Move."

His tone stayed even, perilously even, laced with a promise of looming havoc. No aura flared from him, no grand gestures or power flares occurred.

The four Knights’ brows furrowed at once, feeling the tension spike toward outright clash. Yet Empire law allowed only noble house heads entry to the Imperial Palace sans invitation or summons, and Malrik, for all his might, held merely the status of a Duke’s son.

"First Sun, according to the laws of the Em—" A Knight’s words halted mid-sentence as a razor-thin silver gleam slashed past at inconceivable swiftness, evading all sight and reflex.

The next heartbeat saw four slender silver streaks etch across their necks, blood erupting in savage red geysers. Heads tumbled skyward, severed pristine, crashing down with their ownerless corpses in resounding booms.

Beholding this savage, lightning-fast carnage, Conrad exhaled a muted sigh of resignation, silently cursing his delay in averting the grim result.

Following the demise of four Imperial Knights, knights posted all across the Imperial Palace grounds burst into movement at once, unsheathing their weapons while their auras surged into the ambient air, weaving a constricting barrier around Malrik and Conrad.

"First Sun, Malrik Wargrave, you are hereby placed under arrest under the Laws of the Zarethorn Empire for the execution of Imperial Knights," declared one of the Knights in a steady, commanding voice.

Malrik gave no reply. He merely strode beyond the four headless Knights and pushed into the Imperial Palace unhesitatingly, without casting even a fleeting look at those trailing him.

The encircling Knights surged ahead to seize him, yet before they advanced further, Conrad advanced and obstructed their way. Clad in his butler attire, he remained poised, his face serene as he addressed them in a measured, steady voice.

"I’m afraid, gentlemen, that you will have to go through me first," he remarked coolly. "Besides, I do not need to remind you why the First Sun is so feared; in truth, you stand a far greater chance of contending with me," he continued, a katana appearing in his grasp as his posture shifted faintly, readying himself against the Knights ahead.

Malrik pressed onward relentlessly. With Conrad barring the foes at the entrance, his path cleared ahead, leading straight to the Throne Room where the Emperor reportedly lingered eternally.

Deeper inside the palace, no Knights patrolled; only maids and butlers attending the Royal family appeared. Thus, they offered deep bows and salutations as Malrik went by, none bold enough to challenge or halt his progress.

Soon enough, Malrik reached a pair of enormous golden double doors, adorned with elaborate patterns, flanked by two Knights radiating the aura of Radiant Soulstar Life Rankers, their demeanor unshaken and tranquil.

"State your business," one Knight ordered haughtily. Even knowing Malrik’s fame well, shielded by the Emperor’s aegis, they addressed him as if ignoring his status as a Duke’s heir, as if overlooking the planet’s youngest Crownstar Life Ranker, the youngest ever chronicled.

Yet true to form, Malrik disregarded their demands and rank entirely. Right then, he scorned both their power and their hubris. His tolerance frayed like brittle frost, and these two picked the direst instant to irk him. A lengthy, slanted silver cut burst forth without the slightest motion from Malrik.

In a display of crushing might and horrifying accuracy, the pair of Imperial Knights—mere steps from Crownstar Life Rank—were rent asunder with ease, their forms divided from chest to waist, their plate armor yielding utterly to Malrik’s strike.

The cut pressed on undeterred, slamming into the grand double doors and the wall beyond, which detonated explosively on contact, hurling rubble everywhere amid a booming roar that rattled the palace’s foundations.