CLEAVER OF SIN Chapter 646: Order

After a brief silence, Azaron let out a sigh before he started speaking. "You know, I’ve always let my children face their enemies alone, always permitting them to mature and confront their foes independently, which is why, unlike my eldest son Malrik, I just observe from the sidelines," Azaron’s voice resounded, plain and straightforward, yet bearing an immense pressure that weighed heavily on everyone there.

"But it appears I’ve been too passive for too long. It seems that because I let my children battle their enemies to grow stronger, folks have forgotten I, Azaron Wargrave, still live," he pressed on seamlessly. "You know, on Lily’s deathbed after birthing the Youngest, she extracted a promise from me to guard him with all I possess, and I agreed instantly," he halted shortly, as if reliving that scene, then resumed.

"Yet it looks like I’ve neglected her final plea. First, the Youngest botched his awakening two times. I saw the servants and staff ridicule him behind closed doors, even his siblings, but I stayed idle, thinking kids must toughen up through trials. After all, this world offers no room for naivety or pity," Azaron declared, and all present heard him out quietly, too afraid to cut in right then.

"Next, I witnessed Valentine slip a Knight assassin into the Youngest’s True Awakening, someone with no right to be there, but I kept quiet since the Youngest triumphed in the end. Still, that wasn’t sufficient. Even Cindralis, that supposed Goddess of Space, hounded the Youngest, trying to coerce him as her disciple, figuring we wouldn’t notice, which I overlooked, knowing she wouldn’t go overboard even without Malrik or me showing up," he stopped momentarily, letting his statement sink deep into the listeners’ thoughts.

"Then Valentine meddled once more by dispatching a Swiftstar Life Ranker assassin at the Youngest, and now it’s your move, scheming to twist the Youngest’s thoughts," he went on, his voice turning icier. "It looks like everyone briefly overlooks that I remain the Wargrave Primarch... and it’s time I refreshed the Empire’s memory. Perhaps it’s time to wipe out the Empire and forge a new one. Time to recall why none of my siblings vied for Primarch against me, and why I’m dubbed the mightiest man in the Zarethorn Empire," he finished, his tone sharp, frosty, and laced with far deadlier intent.

All faces creased in frowns at once. No guessing or pondering was required. They sensed it deep in their minds, bodies, and souls... doom loomed on the horizon.

"The Wargrave clan has forever shunned conflict, battling only Monsters, Beasts, and Emovirae. Yet despite our wish for solitude, it proves impossible to stay untouched," Azaron proclaimed, his golden eyes flaring brighter as he uttered the words, exuding a crushing aura.

Azaron’s statement hit like thunder. It stunned every soul there; even Great Elders and Elders stood dumbfounded briefly, unprepared for such a ruthless, unyielding decree.

Indeed, a clash had been anticipated by all, but this... Azaron’s directive amounted to full-scale war on the Royal Family.

Elders and Great Elders recovered swiftly from their daze, chanting together, "As the Primarch wishes."

They grasped that Azaron’s order fit perfectly from their viewpoint. One of theirs had faced targeting and manipulation; revenge was unavoidable. Plus, the Primarch was upholding his late wife’s wish, a vow he’d confessed to ignoring lately.

As soon as Great Elders and Elders voiced it, their might exploded outward unrestrained. The Capital City plunged into apocalyptic devastation from their mere aura’s unleash. Thousands of kilometers vanished from existence instantly; structures crumbled to dust, roads and markets disappeared, and all things—alive or not—were annihilated amid earth-shaking quakes in a torrent of utter destruction.

Maids, butlers, lesser Knights—every soul tied to the Royal Imperial Family—were erased in a flash, before a single blink, solely by the Wargraves’ overpowering presence.

Prior, Great Elders and Elders had restrained themselves per Morthen Wargrave, the First Great Elder’s instructions. But now, under the Primarch’s order, such limits dissolved into irrelevance.

Morthen, that eternal madman, struck first without a second's delay. He seamlessly activated one of his mid-tier techniques.

Astra energy exploded from his form while insanity swept over the whole Empire, his might now utterly unbound.

Azaron cast his gaze upward to the celestial nebula. With just a fleeting thought, it dissolved away. He'd planned to wield it for obliterating the entire Empire from the face of existence... yet harmless civilians stood apart from this war, a separation even he recognized.

"AZARON WARGRAVE!!!!" Emperor Zolthemir Lux Vanthelmor bellowed with maximum fury. He couldn't comprehend the scene unfolding or the declaration he'd just absorbed. Such an order from Azaron was beyond his expectations; he'd assumed Azaron would reach his own insight, that countless powers lurked in wait, ready to pounce the instant the factions collided.

Indeed, Azaron had weighed that threat, but did it faze him? Not one bit. Brimming with absolute assurance, he stood prepared to clash directly with every foe if required. He wouldn't linger motionless, allowing his offspring to be toyed with merely to sidestep wars against overwhelming adversaries.

Azaron whipped his head toward the Emperor, yet before Zolthemir Lux Vanthelmor could utter a syllable, he loomed right in his face. In that razor-thin moment of manifestation, the encircling Crownstar Life Rankers met their doom at Azaron's hands, blasted into sprays of gore, entrails, viscera, and shredded meat filling the sky.

And within that very same razor-thin instant, as he exterminated Crownstar Life Rankers with the ease of slapping away insects, his leg rocketed skyward in apocalyptic fury, his knee crashing into Emperor Zolthemir Lux Vanthelmor’s torso bearing the fury of a blazing sun.

The Emperor failed to register the assault at all. Sight evaded him, detection escaped him—zero warning came. His sole realization hit as torment exploded across his frame alongside the vicious strike on his protective gear. Momentum and inertia seized him without mercy, flinging him rearward while his physique contorted wildly, resembling a shredded glider ensnared in a howling gale.

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