CLEAVER OF SIN Chapter 631: Balls Of Steel

Should any other soul dare utter words of slaying him, Emperor Zolthemir Lux Vanthelmor would have eradicated the offender's entire lineage without a moment's pause, since such declarations alone equaled outright treason against the Empire.

But right now, he remained utterly motionless, without even a hint of murderous impulse. He knew full well Malrik's arrogance and bullheadedness, and the simple truth that the man had arrived to talk rather than lash out violently showed he had somewhat weighed the repercussions of his deeds and opted for restraint instead of raw fury.

'Has Azaron finally gotten through to him?' Emperor Zolthemir Lux Vanthelmor pondered rapidly yet sharply. Indeed, he had long seen Malrik's siblings as his biggest flaw, given how the youth never displayed logic, wariness, or vision when they were involved.

Still, seeing Malrik hold back in this scenario—seemingly for the first time ever—the Emperor felt a faint, barely noticeable twinge of astonishment.

"And why is that?" Emperor Zolthemir Lux Vanthelmor inquired evenly, his voice firm and composed, as the real reason for Malrik's visit still eluded him.

Malrik stayed quiet for a heartbeat, his blood surging with bottled fury, his mind on the brink of exploding, yet Conrad’s prior words reverberated in his head, curbing his primal urges. Following that brief silence, he spoke at last, his tone icy, blunt, and stripped of emotion, "What gave you the balls of steel to attempt to manipulate my little brother’s mind?" he demanded, his statement loaded with heavy implication.

The moment those words escaped Malrik’s mouth, a tiny fracture appeared in Emperor Zolthemir Lux Vanthelmor’s serene facade, akin to a fortress cracking under colossal strain, before it smoothly reformed into its habitual mask of poised tranquility.

Though the change was fleeting, nearly invisible to normal eyes, every soul in the Throne room held Crownstar Life Rank with heightened senses, so not one missed that momentary slip.

‘Asher Wargrave figured it out. Evidently, his soul-bound rapier can fend off mind-invasion skills and methods,’ Emperor Zolthemir Lux Vanthelmor mused inwardly, remembering his suspicion from a year ago when he tried influencing Asher after his duel with Ryan Silvershade, only to meet unexplained failure.

‘Worse yet, Malrik knows now, which means the whole Wargrave clan likely does too, and they might well spread that intel to other Ducal houses or top nobles,’ Emperor Zolthemir Lux Vanthelmor reflected deeper, his mind racing through the wider fallout and possible upheavals in power balances if that secret leaked far and wide.

"Still your tongue, Malrik Wargrave," the Commander barked, his killing intent flaring fiercely again, his tolerance fraying further.

"You dare accuse the Emperor?" the Vice Commander snapped right after, his tone thick with command as his stare pinned Malrik.

For the two Commanders, whether Malrik’s claim held truth meant nothing; the Emperor’s prestige and command came first above all. Yet before they could press on, Emperor Zolthemir Lux Vanthelmor lifted one hand, wordlessly halting them.

"I have done no such thing, Malrik Wargrave," Emperor Zolthemir Lux Vanthelmor declared with his signature poise, his words even and deliberate.

Malrik’s face showed no shift as he eyed the Emperor with open scorn and retorted, "It seems you possess the balls of steel to attempt to manipulate my little brother, yet you lack the exact same pair to admit it," his voice dripping with scorn and subtle mockery.

"Malrik Wargrave, might I remind you that you stand before the Emperor," Emperor Zolthemir Lux Vanthelmor warned, his pitch lowering, turning chillier, as if his tolerance for open insolence was wearing thin.

"Any Emperor who finds it necessary to remind others of his authority is no true Emperor," Malrik shot back without pause or mercy. "Perhaps I should simply usurp the throne myself," he tacked on, his delivery serene but edged with bold challenge.

Immediately after those words escaped his mouth, the Commander lunged forward without the slightest hesitation. As leader of the Imperial Knights, he had overheard a bold vow to assassinate the Emperor and claim the throne. According to Zarethorn Empire laws, such statements amounted to treason—whether acted on or not—deserving instant death, and he was determined to carry out that penalty without pause.

Before a full second could pass, he stood face-to-face with Malrik, his broadsword crashing down in a lethal sweep meant to bisect him straight from skull to hips. Spotting the strike coming, Malrik sidestepped with ridiculous simplicity and flawless rhythm, his actions smooth and exact. Yet right as he dodged, the Vice Commander materialized at his back, sabre thrusting at Malrik’s midsection with deadly velocity and precision.

With graceful agility, Malrik vaulted upward, slipping past both assaults in a single fluid leap, yet he refused to merely defend. At that precise moment, he struck back. Hovering between the Commander and Vice Commander in mid-air, his right fist blasted toward the Vice Commander’s skull as his left leg whipped at the Commander’s head, each blow packed with thunderous power that ripped the air like firing artillery.

Still, the two Commanders were battle-hardened survivors of endless fights over centuries. Their reflexes kicked in at once, bodies shifting in flawless unison to block Malrik’s onslaughts with their blades.

As their guards met his blows, the built-up shockwaves from all the clashes burst out in devastating fury, strong enough to demolish the entire Imperial Estate. But prior to the ruin taking hold, Emperor Zolthemir Lux Vanthelmor stepped in.

His silhouette flickered as he thrust himself into the fray, channeling the shockwaves via his Bloodline power, quelling the ruinous effects and safeguarding the palace’s integrity.

The instant after, Malrik disappeared from sight, rematerializing high above the Capital in the sky, hovering calmly and steadily, utterly unfazed. The pair of Commanders pursued instantly, materializing right in front of him moments later, their auras surging like a crushing wave, blanketing the heavens as if to conquer the skies outright.

"Malrik Wargrave, you stand accused of treason for attempting to assassinate the Emperor and the entire Royal family. Your sentence is execution without delay, per Imperial Law," the Commander proclaimed, his tone resounding with unyielding authority.

A broad, thrilled grin lit up Malrik’s features as he shot back, "No need for ceremonies. I welcome the punishment," his hand sliding purposefully to the katana at his hip, ready to confront both Knight Commanders at once without a second thought.

"Accused of treason for assassination? Death sentence? Looks like the Wargrave family has stayed too silent these past decades. The world seems to have forgotten. Time to remind it—for good," a mysterious voice thundered through the sky like raging storm clouds, echoing over the whole Capital.

The skies roiled in fury, clouds swirling and coiling into eight enormous whirlpools, each pulsing with crushing, immense might, and from every one, a titanic aura plunged onto the Capital, as if the firmament itself was crashing down.

All across the Capital, folks collapsed to their knees, overwhelmed by the sudden crushing force that smothered the area. To every observer, it was clear: this wasn’t one powerhouse, but several beings of inconceivable strength—the auras of Crownstar Life Rankers.

Out of the churning cloud vortices, eight figures emerged with crushing grandeur, their very being warping the air around them. The atmosphere wailed beneath their pressure, the heavens quaking as if ready to implode or explode, its peaceful blue turning to a foreboding blood-red, like the end times had crashed onto the Zarethorn Empire.

The Eight Elders of the Wargrave Ducal Family had come, their arrival signaling not just a clash, but a disaster poised to rattle the Empire’s deepest roots—a historic instant forever carved in annals.