CLEAVER OF SIN Chapter 662: Father And Son Talk-3

Asher’s contemplation was halted by Azaron’s query. He shifted his gaze from Azaron, his eyes momentarily resting on the drink he held, remaining wordless. Azaron, patient and unhurried, maintained his steady stare, his expression expectant of a response.

After a brief pause, Asher responded, "To be completely honest, I was feeling apprehensive and proceeding with caution," he began, articulating his words with care. "Following the Emperor's attempt at mental manipulation, I couldn't cease overthinking the extent of his control, considering how many households might be under his influence unknowingly," he paused before continuing, "I found myself wondering if you, too, were being controlled without anyone's awareness."

He lifted his eyes, meeting Azaron’s golden irises with his own purple ones. "Had I approached you with the news of the Emperor's near mental manipulation, only to discover you were already his pawn, I presumed I would have been eliminated on the spot to safeguard the secret," he declared with finality, his voice steady yet resolute.

Azaron remained silent for a beat before nodding in comprehension. Asher’s apprehension and prudence were entirely justified; his reasoning was neither illogical nor baseless.

"You know, on the very day you were born, your mother made me a promise on her deathbed to protect you with all my might," Azaron said, rising from his seat to approach the window behind him, his movements deliberate. He surveyed the expanding domain before him, his expression growing distant. "However, I have failed her far too many times. I was too lenient, overlooking many crucial matters because I desired my children to grasp the harsh realities of the world," he paused, his voice softening slightly.

Turning back to Asher, he spoke, "I didn't even intervene in the bullying you endured, nor the whispers of the maids and butlers when your awakening fell short. I did nothing regarding any of it," he continued, his tone even but tinged with unspoken regret. "And now, even after the Emperor's attempt to sway you, I still failed to eliminate the mastermind," he paused once more, adding, "I have failed as a father, my youngest."

He moved towards Asher, stopping directly in front of him. Placing a hand on Asher’s shoulder, he continued, "But I will not fail again. Never again." He met Asher’s gaze, his expression softened as he spoke, "The next time you face any threat, be it in words or even in your dreams, simply tell me, and I will be there for you, my youngest."

A faint smile touched Azaron’s lips as he added, "So, rest assured and cease your overthinking. I am always here to hold up the sky if it should fall. Leave opponents beyond your capabilities to your brother and me. Your sole focus should be on your training." He then gently ruffled Asher’s purple hair with his hand.

Asher remained seated, motionless, uncertain how to respond or what to say. He had never experienced a family, never had parents. Such gestures were entirely foreign, new, and overwhelmingly sincere. Utterly bewildered, he sat like a stone statue, unmoving. He could sense and hear the genuine sentiment behind every word Azaron spoke; every action and gesture was earnest, and Asher was convinced the man truly meant every word.

Observing Asher’s silent contemplation, Azaron’s smile widened, much like that of a proud father. He returned to his seat, speaking as he did so, "I am certain you are eager to attend to certain matters and return promptly to the Star Academy due to your unfinished mission. You are permitted to leave, my youngest," Azaron concluded, settling back into his chair.

Nodding, still somewhat stunned, Asher stood and walked toward the door without a word. Just as he reached for the handle, he paused, turning back to Azaron. "Thank you for today, Father," he said, pausing briefly before adding, "And regarding our battle, you might not have to wait two decades." A smile flickered across his lips as he opened the door, his voice fading as he added, "I will visit again." The door clicked shut behind him, leaving Azaron alone once more.

Azaron remained seated, a serene smile gracing his features. He couldn't help but chuckle at the Younger One's sheer audacity, his mind replaying every combat scenario Asher had shown him, each one vividly resurfacing in his memory.

"It appears another contender will emerge for the title of the strongest Wargrave," he mused internally. "I shall not be defeated by mere children." He closed his eyes, his thoughts dwelling on Asher’s clash with Debro, his attention particularly captivated by the Rapier Technique Asher had devised.

"Lily, it seems he has even surpassed your expectations... If only you were here to witness it, for it was your deepest wish and dream," Azaron mused to himself, recalling Lily's long-held desire for one of her children to awaken the rapier as their soul-bound weapon.

‘The global competition is drawing near; in mere months, every Empire will witness the caliber of the Youngest,’ Azaron’s inner monologue turned, ‘and consequently, they will all target him. After all, their fury stems from allowing Malrik to ascend to such a formidable status,’ he pondered, his countenance progressively solidifying.

Malrik's reputation extended far beyond the Zarethorn Empire, echoing throughout every realm; no one had ever rivaled his recorded accomplishments, with only Azaron, his father, having come remotely close.

‘The Youngest will require safeguarding in the ensuing months… particularly in the aftermath of the competition,’ Azaron mused, ‘I wouldn’t hesitate to eradicate a few bloodlines,’ his eyes snapped open, utterly unfazed by the prospect of every Empire dispatching assassins or any other hostile forces toward his youngest son.

A sly grin stretched across his face as he relished the mental image of each Empire’s reaction when that moment arrived.

Shortly thereafter, a knock echoed through the chamber; he remained silent, and the door swung open to admit Zarek. Bowing respectfully, he announced, “An Imperial edict has arrived.”

Upon hearing Zarek’s declaration, the joy that had filled him nearly dissipated; his initial impulse was to command Zarek to incinerate it instantly, but after a brief contemplation, he refrained. He would ascertain the foolish Emperor’s intentions at a later juncture.

“That can be deferred. I need to apprise you of something,” Azaron stated, eager to commence his boasting with the intelligence he had just gleaned from Asher. Furthermore, given his possession of the Light affinity, he too could conjure illusions, mirroring Asher’s capabilities.

And thus, another session of self-aggrandizement commenced.

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