Cleaver Of Sin

Chapter 446: A Single Step

At Asher’s words, Caldor didn’t hesitate for even a heartbeat. He was the one who had first asked for this spar, the one who had challenged Asher directly, and as such, he was the most eager among them. The instant Asher finished speaking, Caldor vanished from where he stood, the soil beneath his feet exploding backward as he tore forward at terrifying speed. Dirt and debris were flung into the air as his spear screamed ahead of him, its tip aimed straight for Asher’s left shoulder in a decisive thrust.

As the attack closed in, Asher finally moved, yet he didn’t stand.

He remained seated, just as calm, just as utterly unperturbed by the incoming attack, as though what was approaching him was nothing more than a gentle breeze. His left hand rose slowly, almost lazily. His index and middle fingers extended upward toward the sky, their movement so unhurried that it felt as though time itself had slowed around him. To Caldor, it was as if the world had paused while Asher alone was allowed to move freely.

The next instant, Asher caught the tip of Caldor’s spear between his index and middle fingers.

Just like that.

Caldor froze, his eyes widening as disbelief crashed over him. He couldn’t comprehend what he was seeing. His full-powered thrust, halted effortlessly, as though Asher had merely pinched a falling leaf out of the air.

But before Caldor could even begin to react, Asher’s fingers shifted. With a sharp, violent crack, the spear exploded. Metal shards burst outward in every direction as the weapon shattered into fragments, reduced to nothing more than twisted scrap. Asher had crushed it with just two fingers, as though the Rank 2 weapon had been made of wet paper rather than reinforced Astra metal.

Caldor could only stare in absolute shock. His mind struggled to process what had just happened. A Rank 2 weapon, destroyed barehanded.

Before that shock could settle, Asher’s gloved left hand curled into a fist, slow and deliberate. He didn’t lean forward. He didn’t rise from his chair. He didn’t even bother closing the distance.

He simply punched the air.

The space between Asher and Caldor collapsed inward for a fraction of a second, then exploded outward. The compressed wind expanded like an overfilled balloon before detonating violently, slamming into Caldor’s chest with bone-crushing force. The impact tore him off his feet, his body flung backward like a discarded ragdoll as he ricocheted across the ground, rolling and skidding through torn earth before finally coming to a halt.

In a blink, Annabelle was already behind Asher. She had moved the instant Caldor was sent flying, her timing flawless. Asher still remained seated, but her twin daggers tore in from both the left and right, streaking toward his shoulders in a lethal cross.

Asher didn’t even bother to turn.

Annabelle might have been fast, exceptionally so, but to Asher, her speed was no different from that of a snail. His head remained resting on his right hand, his posture unchanged. His left hand moved again, shooting backward with precise timing. His fingers closed around Annabelle’s wrist mid-strike.

She froze.

Without turning to face her, Asher lifted her effortlessly, as though her weight had never even registered. There was no strain, no resistance, only complete control.

With insulting ease, he hurled her from behind him to the front, slamming her into the ground before him. The impact was brutal. The earth cracked beneath her as force tore through her back and spine, her pain receptors firing violently as agony surged through her body.

Annabelle gritted her teeth, she didn’t scream. She endured.

Her vision snapped into focus just in time to see Asher’s foot descending toward her face. Every instinct she possessed screamed danger. Without hesitation, she tapped into her family’s bloodline ability.

Sand Manipulation.

Astra energy surged through her Astra veins as the earth beneath her parted. The ground swallowed her whole, her body sinking instantly into the soil as she disappeared from her original position.

Asher’s foot crashed down where Annabelle’s face had been moments earlier. A sharp crack formed at the point of impact, spreading outward like a spiderweb through the ground. Asher’s purple eyes shifted calmly, tracking the space where Annabelle had been, then flicked to her new location beneath the surface.

The next second, the sound of a chain cutting through the air filled the forest.

The wind screamed as it descended from above with immense momentum and crushing force. Asher’s gaze tore away from Annabelle and snapped upward toward the incoming chain. Still, he remained unshaken.

With the same lazy, overwhelming demeanor he had displayed against the Rivelle siblings, Asher acted. His gloved left hand rose once more, this time toward the sky. With a thunderous impact, hand met chain.

The air burst outward violently, pressure waves rippling in all directions as the ground beneath Asher shook, threatening to crack apart. Yet it didn’t. Asher sat firm, absorbing the entire force with nothing but his physical body, his expression unchanged.

Finch had increased the weight of his chain before launching the attack, intending to crush Asher where he sat, or at the very least, force him to move. But he had underestimated Asher’s strength. More importantly, he had underestimated the physique of the Wargrave family.

Finch pulled on the chain, trying to reclaim control.

But Asher already had his grip.

Finch didn’t panic. This was his soul-bound weapon. He had absolute control over it. Calmly, he increased its weight and size again. To him, no matter how massive or heavy the chain became, it would always feel no different from a feather.

He pulled again, but Asher didn’t move or even react, he simply held onto a single chain link, unmoved and unbothered.

Asher didn’t bother pulling back. He knew the chain wouldn’t obey him, it was soul-bound, after all. Instead, he did something else entirely.

His purple eyes finally settled on Finch.

The moment Finch’s gaze met Asher’s, Finch reacted instantly. The chain vanished from Asher’s hand as Finch recalled it. But before Finch could move again, before he could blink, his perception twisted violently for a fraction of a second.

The next moment he was standing directly in front of Asher. Finch’s eyes widened in pure horror and shock. He had no idea how he had gotten there. No warning. No sensation of movement.

Before he could speak, Asher’s left hand curled into a fist and slammed into Finch’s stomach.

The impact was brutal.

Inertia took over immediately. Finch’s chubby body tore backward like a broken kite, crashing through one tree, then another, before finally slamming to the ground and rolling to a stop. The moment he stopped moving, Finch vomited violently, his stomach emptying itself as the air fled his lungs as though it feared remaining within him.

Earlier, Asher had simply bent space. He had swapped the positions of Finch and a pebble. The pebble appeared where Finch once stood, and Finch appeared directly in front of Asher. It was that simple, and that terrifying.

Out of everyone present, only William had not rushed forward. Unlike the others, he understood the gap between himself and Asher. He understood Asher’s abilities, at least to some extent. Charging in blindly would have been suicide. So he waited, claymore in hand, searching for the right moment.

Asher’s gaze shifted from Finch to William.

Then, for the first time, Asher truly moved.

He rose from his chair like an emperor standing from his throne. His cape billowed behind him as he straightened, his presence expanding visibly. When he spoke, his voice carried like a thunderclap through the forest.

"Since you won’t come to me," he said calmly, "I will."

The words sent a chill through everyone present, making them wonder whether this was still a spar, or something far more dangerous.

With that, Asher took a single step.