Cleaver Of Sin

Chapter 633: Mass Teleportation

Everyone immediately moved toward their respective opponents, each choosing who they would battle by simply locking eyes with them. As for Malrik, his eyes were locked onto the Commander and Vice Commanders and no one else; he would personally take on the two of them without hesitation or interference from any other Elder.

Morthen Wargrave locked eyes with three Cabinet Members, who now had deep frowns etched onto their faces as Morthen had unmistakably selected them as his opponents at this moment.

The remaining Elders and the seven Cabinet Members each chose a single opponent, maintaining a one on one engagement as they waited to see who would make the first move, the tension and silence stretching ever so slowly, as though time itself had grown reluctant to proceed.

Below, within the Capital of the Empire, chaos had already erupted into motion, people breaking into desperate sprints as everyone ran for their lives. They did not know who was attacking, after all, the Wargraves were positioned thousands of meters high in the sky and remained unseen to the ordinary eye, but it did not matter in the slightest; they could feel the bloodlust, they could feel the suffocating presence, they could feel death crawling up and down their bodies and spines like an inevitable omen.

And so, they ran.

People who, only moments ago, had been going about their daily lives and ordinary business were now fleeing in sheer terror, abandoning everything they had known without a second thought. Mothers lost their children in the chaos of the stampede, their screams drowned out by the thunderous roar of the fleeing masses.

Individuals stumbled and fell, only to be trampled beneath countless feet as panic consumed all sense of order. A stampede had already taken shape, a living wave of desperation as everyone rushed toward their homes, clinging to the futile belief that walls of brick, stone, and wood could somehow shield them from the overwhelming devastation that even the weakest Crownstar Life Ranker could unleash without effort.

There was a reason the Commander, Vice Commander, and the Imperial Cabinet Members had yet to make the first move, and it was a simple one, the commoners below. The moment this battle truly began and shifted into full motion, they would be wiped out instantly, millions of lives erased in the blink of an eye.

Such a loss would not only be catastrophic in human terms but would also destabilize the Empire itself, disrupting the flow of taxes, labor, structure, and everything that sustained the vast machinery of Imperial rule.

"Let me help you out then," Morthen Wargrave stated with a faint, knowing smile. The next moment, a book appeared before him, floating steadily in place, its cover a radiant gold in color, its pages whiter than anything anyone present had ever seen, as though untouched by the concept of imperfection.

At the appearance of this singular book, the Imperial side frowned even more deeply, as this book was extremely well known to anyone who had lived during the previous Primarch period. Essentially, anyone who was at least three centuries old would recognize it instantly, and every single one of them present had long surpassed that age.

The book slowly opened, its pages flipping and ruffling with an almost deliberate grace, as though guided by unseen intelligence. Then, in the next moment, it stopped at a particular page, and with that, Morthen’s voice echoed outward.

[Fictional Reality: Space Type: Mass Teleportation]

With those words, Astra energy rumbled violently from Morthen’s Astra veins, surging outward in an overwhelming wave that spread across the entire Capital and far beyond. Space itself bent and twisted in accordance with Morthen’s will, yielding to his thoughts without resistance. And in that single, incomprehensible instant, across the Capital of the Empire and even the surrounding territories, every single citizen within those areas vanished as though they had never existed at that point in time.

The noise, the screams, the chaos, the stampede, everything disappeared instantly.

Hundreds of millions of people were teleported away as casually as one might take a leisurely walk through a quiet park, the sheer scale of the act bordering on the incomprehensible.

The Commander’s voice rang out immediately after, sharp and demanding, "Where did you send them?" he asked, fully aware that Morthen had transported them to safety, yet unwilling to leave such a matter unaddressed.

"The price of that information will be included in the compensation the Emperor will give to us," Morthen replied calmly, as though he were discussing nothing more than a trivial transaction.

Although Morthen had no initial desire to directly oppose the Imperial family, Malrik had already crossed that irreversible line, and there was no retreating from it now. If he and the other Wargraves chose to step back at this point, the Emperor could easily use this situation as justification to impose severe and unreasonable penalties upon the Wargrave family.

Whether it be forfeiting a decade’s worth of their annual earnings or relinquishing control over one of their most profitable enterprises. Such outcomes were unacceptable, and the Wargraves would not tolerate them; after all, no one willingly surrendered power or wealth without resistance.

With the citizens removed from harm’s way, the tension that had gripped the battlefield finally shattered.

Malrik was the first to move.

With the smooth, hissing sound of a blade being drawn, he unsheathed his katana, and in less than a fraction of a second, he was already upon the Commander. His katana tore through both space and air alike as he aimed to decapitate the man where he stood, his movement so fast it bordered on instantaneous.

The Commander’s reaction was immediate, his broadsword rising in a swift and practiced motion as he had already anticipated Malrik’s impatience. The moment their blades collided, the air pressure in the surrounding space swelled to an almost infinite degree before buckling violently and exploding outward, a titanic burst of force spanning tens of kilometers tearing through the atmosphere in raw, unrestrained madness.

The Vice Commander moved.

Closing the distance with a speed that seemed to surpass even the concept of teleportation itself, his sabre sang as it arced toward Malrik. But before the blade could meet its mark, Malrik vanished entirely from his position as though he had never existed there to begin with. The Vice Commander’s strike missed, and in its wake, a catastrophic impact tore downward, slamming directly into the Capital below, obliterating structures and land alike in a wave of devastation.

Malrik reappeared above both Commanders, his eyes colder than frost itself, devoid of hesitation or mercy. Golden-orange Solar energy surged and flowed through his katana, illuminating the sky with its brilliance, and without the slightest pause, he unleashed a slash at inhuman speed.

With that single motion, millions of golden-orange sword lines manifested across the sky, stretching endlessly as though reality itself was about to be torn apart. And before the sky could give way, the attack descended upon the two Commanders with overwhelming force.

Their Astra energy erupted in response. Flames ignited and coiled around the Commander’s broadsword, burning with intense ferocity, while crackling lightning enveloped the Vice Commander’s sabre, its energy violent and unstable. With apocalyptic force, they both slashed outward, meeting Malrik’s incoming attack head-on.

The moment the opposing forces collided, the sky transformed into a chaotic tapestry of colors, golden-orange, deep blue burning energy, and violent red lightning clashing and intertwining. The sky itself seemed to fracture under the strain, and the combined attack collapsed downward, traveling thousands of meters in a mere instant before crashing into the Capital with ruinous power.

Various energies slammed violently against one another, each attempting to overwhelm and dominate the golden-orange force, their collision creating shockwaves that tore through everything in their path.

A portion of the Capital was completely consumed, erased from existence with terrifying ease. Thick smoke, dust, and debris rose into the sky in the shape of a massive mushroom cloud, blotting out the horizon.

Without missing a single beat, Malrik shot forward toward the Imperial Estate, completely disregarding the Commander and Vice Commander. The Emperor had always been his true target, those two were nothing more than obstacles, mind-controlled or not, they were beneath his true objective.