CLEAVER OF SIN Chapter 9: Accepted

Four days elapsed following Ethan's transmigration into this unfamiliar realm. During that fleeting interval, he had reconciled with his circumstances. He had welcomed this realm... actually, his realm.

This household was now his to claim. He had taken Asher as his identity, for that is who he had become. He had absorbed it entirely. Still, at his very essence, nothing had altered. The environment around him could transform, yet it failed to redefine his true nature.

In the last several days, Asher had mostly stayed within his chambers, restricting contact with the external world and only venturing out when it was utterly essential. Throughout this phase, he had developed a slightly stronger connection with Lyra.

Nevertheless, even with their growing acquaintance, the relationship stayed the same, with a firm boundary separating lord from attendant, no more and no less.

In those four days, murmurs had already started to spread, tales that Asher had at last reappeared after a full year of voluntary seclusion. A year hidden away, dodging the truth. A year fleeing from existence.

Now, discussions circulated not just about his reemergence but also his recent appearances in the library, along with the faint but clear change in his attitude.

And naturally, the Ninth Sun, Thalric, wouldn't miss the chance. Taking advantage, he started disseminating vicious gossip: that Asher was bothering the servants, and his library trips were just excuses to scan Combat Methods he planned to peddle ahead of his certain expulsion.

Lyra didn't avoid the eddying gossip. Her reputation traveled from lip to lip, linked to Asher's destiny. If penalty loomed for him, she couldn't evade it. Tied to him through obligation and vow, she was fated to trail him, via shame, via banishment, right up to his moment of realization. To exist at his side. To tumble alongside him.

That defined her journey. A lady of immense strength, diminished to a mere echo of rank due to the burden of her devotion.

However, Asher and Lyra stayed undisturbed. Unaffected by the chatter, they proceeded quietly. From sunrise to sunset, Lyra kept watch beyond Ethan's entrance, per Asher's directive. A safeguard stemming not from suspicion, but from practicality.

Asher grasped it fully: in many realms, strength determined facts. In a domain ruled by the law of the strongest, the possessor of the mightiest hand was eternally correct.

From the volumes he studied in the library, he learned that the Wargraves adhered to rigid laws: they were banned from slaying or even hitting each other, no matter the intensity of their animosity or private resentments.

Conflicts resolved solely via official challenges or an old clan custom called Death by Duel, in which fighters battled until just one survived.

Yet the Wargraves' rigid ban on bodily harm beyond official challenges offered no assured protection. It didn't imply that nobody would try to attack or eliminate him covertly.

After all, novelties occurred in this existence for the first time, similar to the rare birth by a non-Primarch.

Asher realized that even if he denounced an assassination bid, lacking solid proof naming the offender, no retribution would follow, regardless of his conviction in their wrongdoing.

Label it excessive caution if desired, but it proved far smarter to position Lyra as sentinel outside his entrance, around the clock.

Asher rested under a scarlet coverlet, his torso lifting and descending in a soft, even pattern as he slumbered profoundly. Rays of sun seeped via the pane, their heat softened by the closed drapes, throwing gentle shades over the space.

Moments afterward, his purple gaze parted, adapting to the serene dawn glow. He rose gradually, pausing briefly while his musings held onto the vanishing traces of a vision—Jennifer. She had surfaced once more, clear and affectionate, within the delicate scenery of his thoughts.

He couldn't merely wipe her from his soul, even after embracing this realm, this fresh existence. Jennifer was his initial romance, his initial all. Although he stood complete as a person, she was the one who rendered him utterly fulfilled. He couldn't lightly discard her merely due to his shift across worlds.

Still, inwardly, he recognized that eventually, he must release her, prepared or otherwise.

Occasionally, he caught himself yearning for Jennifer to have crossed over with him to this realm. Yet, equally often, he scolded himself for those self-centered notions. Unlike his own orphaned state, detached even amid the orphanage youths, Jennifer possessed kin.

A genuine kin. Mother, father, brothers, sisters, aunts, uncles, elders. He could never impose the weight of translocation on her, aware of how it would fracture the ties that united them. Indeed, which household wouldn't burst with honor to boast a healer among them?

To break such a connection would amount to pure self-interest.

With a deep exhale, he lifted from his bedding and neared the drape. Pulling it back, he allowed the brilliant beams of sunlight to wash over his perfect features, greeting the fresh morning.

"Some things never change," Asher whispered, remembering how, in his former existence as Ethan, parting the drape had always marked his initial action upon rising. And in this novel realm, that routine persisted unaltered.

His eyes wandered to the timepiece on the barrier, registering the hour before he pivoted and headed to the washing area. As he readied for his cleanse, his reflections surged forward to the day's looming occurrence: The Awakening.

The moment of the Awakening had at last dawned, coinciding with Asher's seventeenth year. Still, nobody arrived to offer birthday greetings, though he hadn't anticipated any, given his scant familiarity with those around him.

He experienced no anxiety regarding the Awakening procedure. As one who had crossed worlds, he felt confident it would succeed. What disturbed him was the prospect of facing the rest of his kin.

For a Wargrave's Awakening, every relative, the Primarch, the Great Elders, the Elders, the Suns, and the Moons, had to attend. It represented a grave event, signifying the inclusion of a fresh warrior in their midst.

For Asher's initial Awakening, participation was required, drawing the whole clan together. By the subsequent one, attendance had dwindled, as it was no longer compulsory. Now, approaching his third Awakening,

Asher felt nearly positive that scarcely anyone, perhaps no one, would show. Yet, regardless of the faint possibility, his pulse raced at the idea of facing the Elders, or perhaps even the Primarch.

"Nothing will go wrong. I will turn this hell mode world into my easy mode, just like my past life," Ethan told himself, proceeding with his wash at a composed and serene rhythm.