Cleaver Of Sin

Chapter 425: No Intention [Bonus Chapter]

The next instant, Malrik appeared beside Azaron, who stood waiting for him with his hands behind his back. Malrik had asked for only a few seconds, and within those few seconds, the work had already been completed. Azaron stared at Malrik the moment he reappeared, his gaze lingering longer than usual, studying him with an unreadable expression.

”What? Why are you looking at me like that?” Malrik asked, noticing the peculiar way Azaron was staring at him.

Azaron did not respond immediately. He simply continued to stare at his son, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly before he finally spoke. ”What crazy thing did you do this time?” he asked, suspicion heavy in his tone. He was fairly certain that Malrik had done something, Malrik never disappeared without reason.

”You make it sound like I did something wrong,” Malrik replied with an easy smile as he walked past his father, his posture relaxed, as though trying very poorly to hide whatever he had done. ”Don’t worry, I did nothing of the sort.”

Azaron remained silent for a moment, then began walking forward. After a few seconds, he spoke again. ”I’m guessing you went around the Empire wrecking the rest of the Assassin Guild’s bases,” he said, suspicion lacing every word.

Malrik paused mid-step. His blue eyes turned toward Azaron, who continued walking ahead without slowing. ”Aren’t you getting a bit too smart these days... Father?” Malrik asked, genuinely curious. He couldn’t quite tell how Azaron had figured it out so easily, nor why his father seemed sharper than usual.

”You’re calling me dumb again, aren’t you?” Azaron intoned, clicking his tongue in mock annoyance at his prodigal first child.

Malrik neither confirmed nor denied the accusation. Instead, he spoke calmly. ”Don’t worry. I didn’t kill any innocent bystanders. I’m sure you know how ridiculous my control over Astra and everything else is,” he explained as he walked. ”I even saw you protecting the citizens of that noble territory while you were fighting Valentine.”

Azaron let out a sigh. ”Even if you only killed assassins, I’m sure you still caused a wide range of unrest and chaos,” he said, his tone measured but weary.

Malrik shrugged, clearly unbothered. ”That’s why we have nobles ruling over people. Why enjoy the benefits of authority if they can’t control their own subjects?” he replied casually. ”Besides, if you care about everyone so much, why don’t you just become the Emperor?”

Azaron shook his head. ”Too much of a hassle,” he said immediately. ”I can’t imagine the amount of official meetings, paperwork, and ball parties I’d be forced to attend if I were Emperor.” He disliked such matters to his core, which was precisely why he had dumped most administrative responsibilities onto Zarek in the first place.

”Also,” Azaron added, ”you should be ready to inherit the position of Primarch. I’m getting too old.”

As he said that, Azaron feigned a sudden back pain, one hand moving to his lower back as he bent slightly. Malrik stared at him. His father still had centuries left in his lifespan, yet here he was calling himself old just to avoid paperwork.

”I didn’t see this back pain during your fun with Valentine,” Malrik remarked with a faint smile.

”I was enduring it,” Azaron replied solemnly. ”If I gave in to the pain, Valentine might have killed me.” He sighed dramatically and bent backward a little more, as though trying to ease an entirely imaginary ache.

Malrik shook his head, increasingly convinced that his father was becoming more unbelievable by the minute. ”When you die, I’ll accept the position,” he said flatly as he continued walking.

”Tsk,” Azaron clicked his tongue. ”I’ve never seen a child wish death upon their parent.”

Malrik did not bother replying.

”Or better yet,” Malrik continued after a moment, ”give it a few years. The youngest should be able to inherit the position of Primarch in about a decade at most.” He paused. ”Though with his outrageous talent, I’d say even a decade is far too generous.”

He was referring to Asher.

Malrik had no personal desire for the position. To him, it was nothing more than a title that came with excessive work and endless meetings with pompous nobles who lacked the strength to justify their sky-high pride.

”The youngest... huh,” Azaron murmured to himself, his thoughts drifting toward Asher. He had never truly settled on which of his children would inherit the Primarch position. Malrik was currently the only one who had reached the Crownstar Life Rank, one of the core requirements for the role, which was why Azaron kept pestering him about it. If Wuthenya or any of the others had reached the same level, he would have been just as relentless with them.

After a bit more discussion, Azaron blurred forward, Malrik following beside him as they headed toward the Assassin Guild base. Upon arriving, Azaron did not hesitate. He tore through the remaining assassins without pause or mercy. He did not bother classifying them as enemies of his Knights or considering protocol, he simply wiped them all out.

The Knights regrouped, rounding each other up. After a rough headcount and confirming that everyone was alive, Azaron’s Astra energy erupted outward, wrapping around everyone present. Space bent to his will, and with a single thought, he, his Knights, and his children vanished from what remained of the area.

Silence reigned over the destruction brought about by the hands of the Wargrave family.

About five kilometers away, a lone figure tore forward at insane speed, covering meters as though they were nothing. The figure wore a dark cloak, and a white mask concealed his face. He was one of the assassins sent after the Tenth Sun and his teammates. By sheer chance and instinct, he had managed to escape following the deaths of their leaders, Blue and Black, and the slaughter of the others. He was the only surviving assassin from that mission.

Though the Assassin Guild’s doctrine demanded fighting to the bitter end, he knew he had to relay the news that the mission had failed. Minutes later, he arrived at a location known only to assassins, the Assassin Guild headquarters.

What greeted him was nothing but devastation.

Ruin. Madness. Destruction beyond comprehension.

He stood frozen, doubting for a moment whether he had arrived at the correct location. Yet deep down, he knew he had. The overwhelming remnants of Astra and annihilation told him everything he needed to know. This had once been his home.

He did not need to guess who was responsible. The Wargrave Ducal family stood behind this massacre. It hadn’t even been half a day since the mission had begun, yet retaliation had already come in full force.

He understood instantly that other bases across the Empire would have suffered the same fate.

Without hesitation, he removed his cloak and white mask, discarding his identity as an assassin entirely. If he truly was the last one alive, then surviving meant disappearing. He would not be foolish enough to remain visible and become a target.

A new Assassin Guild would eventually rise, founded by someone else.

But he had no intention of being part of it.