CLEAVER OF SIN Chapter 653: Profit Seeking Nature

Emperor Cyrvexis Lux Vanthelmor’s Time manipulation power wasn’t especially broken or ridiculously overpowered, since it faced multiple limitations and constraints dictating its application. For instance, applying his Time manipulation to a living entity required that entity’s consent to function properly; without it, his ability would always fail no matter his efforts, leaving it completely ineffective in those scenarios.

This restriction gnawed at Emperor Cyrvexis Lux Vanthelmor’s very soul, as it barred him from altering Time for even an unawakened person, despite his status as a Crownstar Life Ranker.

Yet with inanimate objects, he wielded his Time manipulation much more freely... though not utterly without boundaries, it faced far fewer shackles than with living beings, opening up wider uses in those scenarios.

Armed with this power and Lily Of The Abyss’s approval, Emperor Cyrvexis Lux Vanthelmor had twisted time around her briefly until her death, bestowing those precious last instants that would’ve been denied otherwise.

Azaron’s declaration about his Ducal family skipping taxes for a century drew no rebuttal from either Emperor Cyrvexis Lux Vanthelmor or Emperor Zolthemir Lux Vanthelmor; they opted for silence, refusing to stir the pot further after the ordeal they’d endured.

After all, the Royal family’s coffers overflowed with wealth; forgoing one family’s taxes posed no issue, especially since every other Noble house fulfilled their obligations, keeping the Empire’s treasury flush.

‘Even now, he chases after every advantage,’ Emperor Cyrvexis Lux Vanthelmor thought wryly, shaking his head at Azaron’s scheming with a blend of faint amusement and irritation flickering in his mind.

At the Royal Twin Birthday Party, Azaron had conned his way to half a Duke’s annual earnings; against Cindralis, he’d extracted massive reparations; and here, he snagged tax immunity in exchange for curbing his fury over a debt repaid, revealing his relentless pursuit of profit.

Azaron blurred out of sight in an instant, his exit as sudden as his entrance. As Azaron departed, Emperor Cyrvexis Lux Vanthelmor materialized next to his son, staring down at him with eyes brimming with letdown, viewing him more as a disappointment than a worthy heir.

In his era, he’d shared a bond of deep respect with the previous Primarch, but his son had veered the opposite way, provoking them instead and unleashing disasters beyond his grasp.

At that instant, Emperor Zolthemir Lux Vanthelmor shrank like a scolded boy; the clear dismay in his father’s gaze made him avert his eyes, dropping his head to fixate on the earth in humiliation. Though a Crownstar Life Ranker past a hundred years, he remained forever his father’s son, a mere child by comparison.

Emperor Cyrvexis Lux Vanthelmor skipped using his Time manipulation to mend or ease his son’s wounds; he merely shook his head and declared, “You and I will be having a long discussion after this,” in a steady, unyielding voice, then flickered away before Zolthemir Lux Vanthelmor could summon a reply.

Emperor Zolthemir Lux Vanthelmor slumped there like a broken man... no, he was utterly vanquished. His fist tightened briefly then loosened in defeat, tension melting into surrender. Moments later, he stood, glancing sideways; hundreds of kilometers off, he detected erupting clashes and barrages ripping across the Empire.

Silence cloaked him as he lingered amid the remnants of his rout, the heavy chill of his downfall pressing in.

Azaron materialized high in the skies, looming over the mayhem below and nearby. Fallen bodies sprawled across the field, Cabinet Members ripped to shreds in death, Knights and their mangled armor strewn about, proof of the Wargrave family’s crushing dominance.

Guided by his orders, the Great Elders and Elders had rampaged wildly for the Wargrave bloodline, carving trails of utter ruin.

Now, the battle's conclusion had arrived. Though the favor preserved solely the Emperor, Azaron perceived no need to keep squandering time battling inferiors or fatiguing his kin, given that the actual perpetrator lingered far out of their grasp.

Letting out a sigh, he drew an artefact from his space ring—one that every Wargrave there held, crafted expressly to transmit critical orders from the Primarch to all family members.

Azaron directed his words into the artefact. Without offering explanations or details, he merely delivered the command.

Finished speaking, the artefact faded from his grasp, and right then, a portal ripped open ahead of him. He stepped inside without delay. The instant he vanished, Great Elders and Elders trailed after; bewildered by the abrupt directive yet refusing to defy it, they forsook their adversaries silently, faint grins adorning their faces after savoring the chance to limber up and spar against the Imperial clan.

Under normal conditions, Malrik might have challenged the order, but in this instance, serving as the First Sun beneath the Primarch's direct authority, rebellion proved unthinkable. After all, Azaron could have already slain the Emperor, rendering additional strife pointless.

As all departed, Emperor Cyrvexis Lux Vanthelmor’s form materialized suspended in the air. He beheld the boundless devastation sprawling before him; even the fractured void was visibly weaving itself anew in the moment. Only a sigh met the spectacle.

One hand lifted, a mere thought sufficing to unleash Astra energy—equaling Azaron’s release moments earlier—rushing through his Astra veins with crushing force. The firmament wept gold beneath the colossal scope of his dominion and precision, thereby igniting his Time manipulation power.

All motion appeared to freeze for a fleeting moment. A spectral clock emerged above, its pointers halted before creeping counterclockwise, and through that turn, time reversed over the full battlefield.

Gullies dissolved. Gorges and craters evaporated. Peaks reconstituted. Residences, edifices, lanes, columns, thoroughfares, and carts—every bit—clicked back precisely as Emperor Cyrvexis Lux Vanthelmor reset all non-living matter to its pre-conflict form.

Though war’s wreckage and wounds were obliterated, the slain's remains endured, his might insufficient to revive the lost—a constraint beyond even his transcendence.

Emperor Cyrvexis Lux Vanthelmor simply shook his head; this marked his utmost effort, yet it proved ample. Manual restoration would consume ages and sap the Imperial family’s reserves, rendering his direct intervention vastly superior.

Yet prior to departure, a voice thundered across the heavens.

Great Elder Morthen spoke it. He'd repatriated the populace he'd seized beforehand; originally plotting to detain them pending restitution from the Royal house, Azaron’s mandate compelled obedience. In a flash, he shifted them to the Capital City, millions manifesting anew as if departure had never occurred.