CLEAVER OF SIN Chapter 641: Calculator

More than five thousand kilometres from Morgana’s battlefield lay a different clash zone, where the third and final Great Elder, Damien Wargrave, commanded the field—a warrior whose sheer existence warped the natural flow of the air around him.

Similar to Azaron, this man boasted golden eyes and locks of golden hair, yet a closer inspection revealed a tattoo on Damien’s forehead: the mathematical symbol (Σ), denoting summation, which appeared trivial at first but hid a profound, foreboding significance connected to his power’s essence.

A grin played on his lips as he locked eyes with his foe, who mirrored the expression perfectly, the two regarding each other like beasts sizing up rivals, both refusing to shatter the tense quiet first, fully knowing only one would depart this field with pride unbroken.

Damien Wargrave’s soul-bound awakened weapon consisted of a pair of gauntlets, marking him as a Martial Artist—a rarity in the Wargrave lineage—and like his brother Morthen, he hadn’t gained an affinity like other Wargraves, but rather an ability, abstract and far more fearsome when wielded expertly.

Named Calculator, his power enabled four core operations: addition (+), subtraction (-), multiplication (×), and division (÷)—elementary concepts graspable by children, but in his control, they evolved beyond the ordinary.

Everyday arithmetic for tallying coins, straightforward and harmless in normal life, yet Damien Wargrave would wield these on the battlefield, transforming basic math into crushing supremacy.

Surface-level simplicity masked a power that wreaked utter havoc in his hands, one capable of twisting the very rules of warfare.

The Cabinet Member struck first without awaiting Damien’s initiative, surging forward in a fluid rush that shook the earth beneath his feet, obliterating the gap with explosive velocity. Upon reaching him, he drove his blade straight at Damien’s forehead with deadly accuracy.

Damien showed no response, as if blind to the assault or too slow to track it, yet in the blink of an eye, his hand flashed up, extending one finger to casually block the strike—stopping it dead with mocking ease, like it bore no weight at all. A ferocious gale erupted between them, churning the atmosphere, but neither budged an inch.

The Cabinet Member’s brow furrowed; as a Crownstar Life Ranker, he knew Wargraves excelled in physical might beyond most, but not to the extent that a lone finger could nullify his blow so trivially—this defied all reason.

All at once, his gaze caught a plus (+) symbol hovering centimeters above Damien’s head, dim but undeniable. Puzzled by its nature, he grasped nothing of it, yet stayed alert, his gut warning of grave peril.

Seamlessly, he loosed a barrage of slashes, his scimitar a phantom weaving a thousand thrusts in less than a nanosecond, every one laced with fatal purpose. Yet Damien parried them all with that single finger, unmoving in either direction, anchored like stone.

The Cabinet Member instantly retreated in a blur, unwilling to linger near this unnatural monster, his assurance starting to fracture.

In truth, the Cabinet Member wasn’t feeble; Damien’s Calculator simply overpowered reason itself. Through addition, he had amplified his speed and power to ludicrous heights, rendering his foe’s efforts trivial and sluggish.

One facet of his power let him boost his own strength, velocity, stamina, Astra energy, and healing to sense-defying extremes. Moreover, he could target enemies by dividing or subtracting their attributes, sapping their prowess without touch.

As soon as the Cabinet Member created space from Damien, a division (÷) symbol materialized above the Great Elder’s head, and before comprehension dawned, Damien closed in, his fist rocketing toward the man’s chest with pulverizing might.

With explosive force, the Cabinet Member was hurled backward, his figure blurring into a streak across the battlefield. He couldn’t comprehend it, couldn’t track Damien’s velocity, hadn’t witnessed it, hadn’t detected it—it resembled teleportation, yet his exposure to every kind of teleportation power let him recognize the real thing.

Damien hadn’t teleported at all; he merely reduced the space separating him from his foe to nothing, materializing before the man in a flash, at a pace that outstripped teleportation—a notion that defied all logic.

The Cabinet Member slammed into a remote mountain before halting, the collision rattling the nearby landscape. He sprang up in an instant, eyes darting to Damien’s prior location. But as his gaze fixed there, his awareness registered a figure right beside him—Damien yet again.

His counter was immediate; forgoing a physical assault this round, he triggered his Explosion ability, which let him trigger a massive cataclysm by detonating anything he’d ever contacted. At once, the mountain, the earth, and all within a kilometer erupted in a devastating chain blast, only for the detonation to freeze the very next instant, as if thwarted by some invisible hand.

And so it was—Damien had zeroed out every aspect of the blast: heat, shockwave, blast wave, smoke, momentum, force, all erased with casual mastery. His Calculator power extended beyond physical objects to intangible metrics and concepts usually beyond reach.

The Cabinet Member was baffled by his ability’s failure; for the first time in two centuries, he encountered this bizarre occurrence, one that overturned his vast lifetime of knowledge.

"This is why I hardly leave the estate, you people are simply too weak to make me even want to try," Damien’s voice rang out amid a sigh of letdown, his prior thrill utterly evaporated. He’d been grinning moments ago, eager for a worthwhile skirmish. Being a Royal Family Cabinet Member, the foe ought to pack some punch... but evidently, he’d picked the feeblest of the bunch.

The emblem hovering over his head morphed into a multiplication sign (×), pulsing with subtle might, and then his palm vanished in a blur as he delivered a resounding slap to his rival’s face, the crack booming like thunder over the battlefield. Consequently, the Cabinet Member’s frame was flung sideways by staggering power, his cheek ripped clean off, jaw wrenching loose in fury, teeth ejecting from his gums, while his brain collided brutally with his cranium.

After a last smash into the fractured terrain, the man sprawled limp and senseless, his features utterly deformed—a Crownstar Life Ranker vanquished in mere two strikes, a punch followed by a slap, an utterly shameful and conclusive downfall.

Damien shook his head deliberately, spun around, and strode off without a backward look. The First Great Elder, his elder brother Morthen, had commanded all to spare their foes’ lives; otherwise, that closing slap would have pulverized the man’s skull like an overripe watermelon, a gruesome end far grimmer than what transpired.