CLEAVER OF SIN Chapter 644: Azaron’s Questions

All gazes turned instantly to the three Dukes; no questions were voiced, for everyone could already deduce the unfolding truth. Morthen Wargrave's solitary bombshell had utterly reversed the circumstances, its far-reaching effects surging like an invisible wave through the consciousness of every soul there.

The Imperial Cabinet Members nursed their private reflections too. Though they relished their lofty statuses and blood ties to the Imperial Family, in truth, no being—whether lowly ant or stray hound—craved the horror of mental enslavement or the silent theft of their free will.

Yet ultimately, they couldn't just opt out of backing Emperor Zolthemir Lux Vanthelmor. In the same vein as Morthen throwing his support behind Malrik to defy the Imperial Family without a second thought—embracing steps others might brand as wildly impulsive—the Cabinet Members were compelled to align with the Emperor, personal hesitations and dreads be damned.

Their position had to be declared right here and now; only after the chaos subsided and they retreated to the Imperial Estate would they enact true defenses for their psyches. At this juncture, though, a seamless united facade was vital, since any rift in their solidarity could trigger catastrophe amid the suffocating strain.

Morthen’s declaration left Azaron’s expression utterly unmoved. He harbored zero skepticism toward the man; he grasped the uncle's freakish might all too well and knew the restraint being shown was massive. If his uncle so chose, the Empire would have vanished without a whisper, solely on that claim, given the horrifying magnitude of his prowess.

"What is the source of this information?" Azaron inquired with serene composure. He never jumped to conclusions from one mere claim; as Primarch, his choices embodied the collective resolve and dominion of every Wargrave.

A subtle smile lingered as Morthen pressed on. "The information came from the Tenth Sun himself. According to him, after his battle with Ryan Silvershade during the Royal Twin Birthday Party, Emperor Zolthemir Lux Vanthelmor had touched his shoulder to congratulate him. But in that brief moment, the Emperor had attempted to invade his mind," he elaborated, voice level and unhurried while recollecting Asher's briefing back in the library.

That precise instant replayed unbidden in Azaron’s thoughts. He vividly recalled Emperor Zolthemir Lux Vanthelmor’s hand on Asher’s shoulder; he recalled detecting the faintest tremor in Astra energy—its most elusive manifestation, discernible only to entities of their stature and precision—at the very second of that touch.

Every detail stood crystal clear in his memory; being a Crownstar Life Ranker ensured no erosion or flaw could taint his recall. Still... he'd overlooked it then. Astra energy ripples were routine, and that scant, delicate anomaly hadn't sparked any red flags... but looking back... he'd been far too trusting... or rather, not quite; he'd simply lacked the key details to evaluate it right.

Much like the other three Dukes, Azaron couldn't stop his mind from racing. Yet the Wargraves, unlike them, had scant dealings with the Emperor. He and his wife were basically the only ones keeping steady ties to Emperor Zolthemir Lux Vanthelmor... alongside young Malrik, right after his birth.

'Is that why Malrik has always defied the Emperor from the shadows? Did he know the whole time?' Azaron pondered deep within, strands of ignored evidence now weaving together in his mind. 'But even so... how did the Youngest slip free from Emperor Zolthemir Lux Vanthelmor's mental grip? Their power disparity alone should've made it impossible,' he mulled in silence. 'Unless it was woven into the Emperor's scheme—if he foresaw Malrik's instant counterstrike, he could strike back and brand us Wargraves as traitors,' his cognition swirled, crafting a theory that rang true yet left gaps unfilled.

Yet in the following instant, he gave a subtle shake of his head. He could be reading too much into the situation. The Emperor Zolthemir Lux Vanthelmor he was acquainted with wouldn’t expose his mind manipulation power so casually, suggesting that the events transpiring now were probably outside his deliberate scheme.

While Azaron Wargrave stayed immersed in his reflections, the whole world appeared to freeze. Nobody dared to utter a sound; not even a heavy breath escaped anyone, including Emperor Zolthemir Lux Vanthelmor himself, the Empire’s supreme ruler, who refrained from speaking a single word in that tense moment.

Everyone stayed quiet and still, letting the disaster called Azaron Wargrave ponder undisturbed... since one misstep might plunge everything into carnage and turmoil.

Such was the might Azaron wielded, the sort of dominance that instilled wariness and doubt in all, making even the mightiest figures hold back in his vicinity.

Following a brief period of reflection, Azaron at last inquired, "How did the Youngest resist the mental manipulation?" He had to find out, for the query kept nagging at him relentlessly, demanding attention.

Morthen opened his mouth to reply. He had no idea how Asher had endured the Emperor’s mental manipulation, and he was on the verge of confessing that, yet before words could leave him, Malrik materialized in a golden-orange streak, slicing through the atmosphere with commanding speed.

In contrast to the Great Elders and Elders, Malrik skipped the bow or the title "the Primarch." To him, the man stood merely as his father, approached without ceremony or show.

"Father, that’s due to the Youngest’s soul-bound rapier having a power that guards his mind," Malrik declared right away, bypassing any salute or bow. "He shared this with me post his True Awakening, after I posed a couple of queries," Malrik concluded firmly, his voice laced with conviction.

Azaron held his silence briefly. He uttered nothing, leaving his thoughts inscrutable to all. No one could hazard a guess, given how his face betrayed zero change, as if the topic at hand was nothing more than a minor, inconsequential matter.

"It appears the Youngest exceeds my first impressions," Azaron remarked at length, his statement plain and direct. Had he been by himself, or with his trusted butler, a broad smile might have lit his features. Regrettably, the current circumstances’ weight forbade it, as each choice here bore the potential to transform the Empire’s very foundation.