CLEAVER OF SIN Chapter 721: Greenhorns [Castle Bonus - ]

Two hours vanished in a blur, leaving the students gasping and drenched in sweat, clinging to the ascent for their very lives. What compounded their misery was the biting cold that intensified with every upward push, striking them with relentless ferocity. Each breath drawn felt like a dagger to their chests, a torment to their hearts and lungs, as if the very essence of their beings cried out for respite. Some resorted to holding their breath between gasps, desperately trying to evade the sharp sting of each inhale.

Yet, their efforts were in vain; the pervasive chill permeated their bodies regardless of their breathing choices, seeping into their bones and refusing to relinquish its icy grip.

Asher could only scoff at their misguided approach. Possessing a foundational understanding of biology, he recognized that their actions would inevitably lead to detrimental consequences. However, did he offer any counsel? Absolutely not; he deemed it a waste of breath to address such trivial matters, especially in a crucible where each individual was solely accountable for their own survival.

In the very next instant, a piercing scream pierced Asher’s awareness, his gaze snapping sideways to witness a student lose their purchase, plummeting uncontrollably until they vanished from view. After all, their ascent had carried them so high that the mountain’s base was now lost to the distant horizon.

Asher remained unfazed. Countless others had met similar fates before; this student was merely another in a long line. Their fall garnered only a fleeting handful of glances before every eye returned to the precarious grips and the singular, all-consuming objectives of survival and advancement.

Asher himself maintained an unwavering composure, regulating his breathing with a steady cadence that accompanied each upward movement and exertion. His clothing, a testament to his struggle, became soaked in sweat, only to be momentarily dried by the cold, then soaked anew—an endless cycle. Though his muscles pleaded for rest, Asher continued his relentless climb. At this juncture, he had already surged ahead of both Teo and Thalric, advancing with deliberate calculation despite the immense strain.

Asher keenly felt the agony, not confined to his muscles but extending to his fingers and toes. They throbbed and burned, his skin flushing a vivid, angry red, appearing on the verge of swelling. Blisters marred his hands and feet as he desperately latched onto every crack and crevice, refusing to release his hold.

After a significant passage of time, blood began to seep from the students' hands, knees, and feet. Their skin, fingernails, and toenails were progressively torn away by the unyielding harshness of the rock faces they desperately clung to. More and more students succumbed, their endurance shattered not merely by the pain, but by the relentless necessity of continuing their ascent amidst escalating injuries, compelling their ravaged bodies onward.

Asher was consumed by fatigue. He felt the desperate cries of his muscles echoing throughout his entire being, each fiber screaming for a moment's reprieve. By this stage, only those possessed of indomitable willpower and an exceptional tolerance for pain remained in the ascent. Trailing behind Asher were Ryaen and William; these two were formidable fighters known for their physical prowess. William, whose unique ability was replication, had evidently honed his physique to its zenith. After all, in combat, should he find no one to copy, he would be forced to rely solely on his own formidable body and his greatsword.

As for Finch, the ever-scheming merchant, he had long since vanished from the climb. He had tragically fallen from the mountainside during his ascent, a spectacle that elicited only solemn headshakes and faint, amused exhales from Asher and William.

After an eternity that seemed to stretch for ten years, Asher finally attained the summit. The instant he arrived, he face-planted onto the ground, making no effort to cushion his descent. At this point, any potential impact would neither inflict injury nor cause him pain; he was simply too utterly spent to register or react.

Instructor Mira’s voice resonated once more within his mind before he could even draw a full breath.

’Your ten-minute respite has commenced,’ her voice calmly declared before fading as if it had never been present.

Asher seized the opportunity without delay. He rolled onto his back, commencing the application of every breathing technique he possessed, prioritizing the most effective methods for rapid stamina restoration. His body felt as though it were ablaze from the exhaustive exertion of the preceding hours. In total, Asher had dedicated thirteen hours to conquering the formidable mountain.

Asher lifted a hand, examining his injuries. Despite their severity, his body’s inherent resilience had already initiated a slowdown of the bleeding, and the wounds were beginning a gradual process of healing. Naturally, he could have employed the Crimson Pact for instantaneous recuperação, but Asher was not one to delude himself during training. Furthermore, even if he were to attempt such a measure, Instructor Mira's perception, a characteristic of her Crownstar Life, was far too acute to be underestimated.

’System, what is the time?’ Asher inquired, his gaze fixed upon the darkening sky overhead, the transition into night having proceeded almost unnoticed during his arduous climb.

[It is 7 p.m., Host]

The next moment, Thalric and Teo ascended to the summit, neither sparing Asher a second glance as they immediately commenced their respective breathing techniques for recovery, their focus clearly on efficiency rather than unnecessary dialogue.

With his ten minutes of recuperation concluded, Asher began his descent down the mountain. However, approximately fifty minutes into his journey downwards, he abruptly felt the wind constrict around him before it forcefully propelled him off the mountainside. He didn’t falter in his composure; he had already surmised that this was Instructor Mira’s doing. Her demonstrable control over the wind was evident, making it highly probable that she commanded mastery over other elements, such as earth.

Glancing around, he observed that all the other participants had been similarly brought down, Instructor Mira effortlessly extracting them from their positions on the mountain.

"Training commences at five in the morning and concludes at eight at night," she announced, making a sweeping gesture as bandages rained down from the sky. The students quickly understood these were specialized bandages intended to staunch bleeding and offer a slight boost to healing.

Their daily training regimen would now extend to a demanding fifteen hours. They were to arrive at the training grounds by 5 a.m., depart by 8 p.m., and utilize the remaining scarce hours for eating, bathing, and tending to personal needs, before snatching what little rest was available before the cycle repeated.

"I trust you didn't imagine healers would be provided? Our purpose is to temper your bodies, not to coddle them," Instructor Mira stated, acutely aware that a segment of the students had harbored expectations of healers, expectations she deemed utterly baseless.

Sounds of pained groans echoed across the grounds as the students congregated, their bodies wracked with tremors from sheer exhaustion and exertion.

Mira shook her head, then snapped her fingers, releasing the restriction on Astra energy. Nevertheless, she maintained the weight effect, ensuring their burden remained unyielding.

Asher and all the others felt their Astra energy surge back, yet it offered no restoration to their depleted stamina. Despite the oppressive sensation of the jumpsuit pressing down on their frames, not a single individual voiced a complaint.

"Goodnight, greenhorns," Instructor Mira declared before dissolving into the wind, as if she had never been present.

Asher remained silent; he lacked the residual strength to exchange words with anyone for any conceivable reason. Finch? William? Thalric? Ryaen? None of it held relevance at this precise juncture. It was not the opportune moment for camaraderie or conversation.

Without a moment’s hesitation, he activated his Position Marker ability and vanished from the forest's confines, his form flickering out of existence before rematerializing upon his bed, utterly depleted.

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