CLEAVER OF SIN Chapter 661: Father And Son Talk-2

Asher commenced from the very beginning, the moment of the Star Academy exams; he concealed nothing, as there was truly nothing to hide nor alter. Similar to his interaction with Malrik, he employed his Light Manipulation to conjure an illusion for Azaron’s perception, enabling the man to witness every event as if he had been personally present within each scene as it transpired.

Azaron posed inquiries at distinct intervals, his interest palpable in both his expression and vocalization, as though genuinely invested in the unfolding narrative. Indeed, from time to time, a broad grin would surface on his countenance – exclusively during Asher’s combat sequences. He couldn't help but be amused by Asher’s sheer absurdity, finding the vast chasm between expectation and reality almost comical.

They discussed the cataclysm Malrik had personally orchestrated, the immense scale of destruction causing even Azaron a moment of reflection. Subsequently, Asher recounted his missions. He presented each task to Azaron, elucidating every minute detail with a gentle smile. For brief moments, he seemed to forget he was addressing the Patriarch, his words flowing with an unreserved, casual ease, as though speaking to a familiar acquaintance rather than the venerable leader himself.

Azaron found it inexplicable how Asher had managed to survive an encounter with the assassin known as Blue; the concept itself appeared illogical even to a figure of his stature. Yet, when he inquired, Asher artfully evaded the question. After all, Asher knew that victory against Blue had been secured through his Absolute Physique, and without it, he would undoubtedly be deceased. Furthermore, summoning Malrik required Astra energy to be infused into the talisman, a feat impossible at the time of the encounter.

After a period, their discussion progressed to Asher’s most recent mission, an account that left Azaron in a state of profound silence. The man remained wordless for a considerable duration, his gaze fixed upon the battle unfolding within Asher’s created illusion. He absorbed every movement, every strategic decision, and every exchange without uttering a sound. As the illusion concluded, Azaron maintained his silence for another moment before suddenly erupting into laughter.

"HAHAHAHAHA!!!" His laughter reverberated through the chamber, seeming to agitate the very atmosphere as he proclaimed, "This is utter madness." He guffawed unrestrainedly, his voice imbued with unrestrained amusement and sheer disbelief.

Asher sat in stunned astonishment, observing Azaron’s unrestrained mirth. Although Azaron had displayed smiles and grins during his battle recollections, Asher had grown accustomed to that; however, this outburst was qualitatively different, significantly more potent and uninhibited.

"You know, I once considered Malrik the most preposterous Wargrave to date, but it appears I was mistaken all along. It seems the youngest has surpassed the eldest's record," Azaron declared with evident delight. Any indignation he harbored against himself evaporated instantly, supplanted entirely by profound pride and burgeoning excitement.

Despite witnessing it, the reality of Asher’s triumph over a Radiant Wavestar Life Ranker still felt surreal to Azaron, the achievement itself bordering on the impossible.

"If Debro had not underestimated me from the very start, I would not have emerged victorious," Asher responded plainly, a slight shake of his head accompanying his words.

"True, yet individuals still falter even when Radiant Wavestar Life Rankers dismiss them," Azaron countered with a wide grin, a flicker of regret surfacing at not having personally witnessed such a spectacular battle.

"And to think you have already devised your own Rapier Techniques! It seems everyone has profoundly underestimated you, especially considering you failed your awakening twice," Azaron continued, shaking his head, an overwhelming sense of pride evident in his demeanor.

Uncertain of how to respond, Asher remained silent, offering a faint smile, allowing Azaron to continue his monologue without interruption.

"You realize, for a considerable time, I have remained unchallenged. Many adversaries simply collapse under the sheer force of a single assault from me, compelling me to constantly hold back," Azaron began, his eyes alight with an intense fervor as he regarded Asher.

"Consequently, I have perpetually awaited Malrik's ascension to my level for a truly formidable confrontation—a battle that would draw my blood, cost me limbs, and fracture bones—but it will require several more years for him to attain my power threshold," a smile graced his lips, one brimming with keen anticipation. "However, I no longer need to solely await Malrik; I now have you as well. Once your strength is adequate, you may challenge me, or I shall challenge you. The identity of the challenger is inconsequential; what truly matters is the exhilaration, the pure enjoyment derived from the battle itself. Heavens, you and your brother could even face me simultaneously to heighten the excitement!"

Asher blinked, his mind a whirl, uncertain how their conversation had veered so drastically. He found himself at a loss for words. Typically, fathers gloated over their children's achievements, yet his own seemed to yearn for a true contest instead.

‘A truly eccentric family,’ Asher mused inwardly. Yet, simultaneously, a spark ignited within him, as if the residual effects of the Wargrave Bloodline were stirring once more, reminiscent of times past.

He couldn't suppress the vision: a showdown between himself and Azaron, a clash destined for legend, an epic etched into memory.

A broad grin stretched across his face as he declared, "I eagerly anticipate it."

As Asher gave his assent, his senses registered a sudden surge in air pressure, which then vanished as swiftly as it appeared. Azaron's excitement was simply overwhelming; an outsider could scarcely fathom the intensity of his anticipation.

"Two decades should suffice, given your extraordinary talent," Azaron proclaimed, his thoughts drifting, as if he could already foresee that future confrontation.

‘Two decades?’ Asher pondered. It struck him as an immense span of time. Yet, even acknowledging Asher’s preposterous talent, Azaron still projected a two-decade timeline. However, one must consider that within those twenty years, Azaron himself would undoubtedly grow more formidable. Could this absurdly gifted Asher ever truly bridge the gap with his ridiculously powerful father, Azaron?

‘It appears the rumors of my elder brother surpassing Father are unfounded,’ Asher thought. ‘Or perhaps he merely conceals his strength, unwilling to bother with a fight against Father,’ Asher speculated, his mind drifting to the battlefield Malrik had unveiled and Malrik’s unshakeable confidence.

"I have something to inquire about," Azaron announced, his focus snapping back from his visions of dueling his formidable first and lastborn sons.

"What is it, Father?" Asher inquired, his gaze fixed on Azaron. He wouldn’t deny it; he was relishing the moment. He had never engaged in such a conversation with Azaron before, not even the previous iteration of Asher had. But he was doing so now. A peculiar, unfamiliar emotion began to stir within him.

"Why did you not inform me?" Azaron asked, his tone placid.

"Inform you of what?" Asher replied, bewilderment coloring his voice and expression.

"That the Emperor sought to sway you with his mind manipulation abilities," Azaron questioned, meeting Asher’s gaze with an expression that transcended that of a Patriarch, revealing instead the heart of a father.