Cleaver Of Sin

Chapter 642: The Dukes

Malrik walked with calm steps, he wasn’t in a hurry or rush, the moment he stepped into the Imperial Palace, bypassing the dome, many Knights immediately rushed forward, charging to their deaths, just to fulfill their knightly duties. They knew who Malrik was, they knew his reputation, still, they didn’t hesitate to risk their lives for the Emperor.

But Malrik had time for none of them, with a thought, he manipulated light photons in the air, and created an illusion, making each of them battle each other to the death. This illusion skill was something he had never developed or created until this very moment, he had seen Asher use it once, hence, he simply copied his little brother’s skill application with perfect ease, perfecting it on his first attempt without any visible strain.

Malrik never had any need to create an illusion skill since he wasn’t the type of guy that hid himself, hence why he never had it, or even bothered to think about creating it, as overwhelming force had always been more than enough for him.

Malrik stepped into the building, anyone he met, he simply placed them into an illusion and left without any form of interaction, moving like an unstoppable force that couldn’t be hindered. Within moments, Malrik had appeared within the same Throne Room, and miraculously, the door which he had destroyed before had been repaired to its pristine state.

"You’ve come again, Malrik Wargrave, I never thought you could cross the dome, but it seems I’ve underestimated you once again," Emperor Zolthemir Lux Vanthelmor spoke with a calm tone, as though indifferent to whatever was happening. With that, he simply snapped his fingers, removing the dome entirely as though it had never existed.

"Well, the Imperial Palace has been old for quite some time, I guess it will be time to remodel it after our battle," the Emperor stated as he rose to his feet with calm indifference, his composure unshaken.

Unlike everyone else, Emperor Zolthemir Lux Vanthelmor didn’t wear armour or anything of the sort, he possessed a clothing artefact that granted even better defence, while allowing him to move freely and comfortably, which he carried around at all times, after all, one could never know when a battle would begin.

"It’s funny, everyone knows I don’t joke with my siblings, yet they keep targeting them, and I can’t always help but wonder why," Malrik stated with a flat tone, his words weren’t a question, he had simply spoken what was on his mind, his indifference masking a deeper, more dangerous intent.

A hissing sound echoed through the Throne Room as he unsheathed his katana with calm ease, he entered a perfect state, his senses stretching outward as he focused all his mind and thought on the Emperor, sharpening his awareness to its absolute peak.

The Emperor smirked, as the next moment, a scythe appeared in his hands. The both of them had always been at odds, they’ve always clashed in the shadows, now it was time to clash openly, without restraint or concealment.

Malrik knew this would be the greatest battle he would participate in since his birth, after all, one couldn’t be an Emperor and be weak. Azaron, his father, had once said the only person he could even possibly consider a true opponent was the Emperor, and Malrik understood how strong his father was. Just for his father to consider the Emperor a true opponent, no matter how lightly, spoke immensely of the man’s overwhelming power.

"Let’s finally have the clash of our lives, Malrik Wargrave," the Emperor spoke, as his presence began to rumble ever so slowly, building into something far more terrifying. Both of them dipped forward, their muscles coiling like drawn strings as they gathered every physical strength they could muster, and as they were about to tear into each other, three new presences descended from above with world pausing might.

Malrik and the Emperor’s heads snapped upwards, their eyes tearing towards the new presences that had halted their battle, and there they stood, the three Dukes of the Zarethorn Empire. In a blur, they appeared and stood before the Emperor as they gazed down on Malrik with burning intensity.

"Has the Wargrave Ducal family launched a coup against the Zarethorn Empire?" Duchess Syvrein Stormveil stated with a cold tone, her voice laced with sharpness.

"Where is Azaron Wargrave?" Duke Mauvrek Ravencroft stated with a calm tone, his presence already distorting the surrounding space.

Duke Rhydion Silvershade didn’t speak, he simply remained silent, his gaze fixed on Malrik with unreadable intent.

Malrik couldn’t help but click his tongue in annoyance, he had simply forgotten about these three. There was simply no way a battle of this scale would occur at the Capital and they wouldn’t know, their awareness extending far beyond normal limits.

The three of them standing and protecting the Emperor didn’t mean they loved or supported him, they simply didn’t know what was going on, and the safer bet was to side with the Emperor. If the Wargrave family had wanted to stage any form of coup, they should have informed them first, so maybe they would join hands and work together, as power often aligned with opportunity.

They could also sense the battle that was happening outside the palace, but why would they bother themselves with mere Cabinet Members? If they died, that had nothing to do with them, as such matters were beneath their concern.

Malrik didn’t reply, his Solar Energy simply rippled outward as he made his stance known; he was ready to take on the Dukes and the Emperor all at the same time if it came to it, his intent unwavering.

"It seems I will finally get to see the power you possess," Duke Mauvrek Ravencroft stated with a calm tone, as space began to crack around him, indicating he was about to summon his monsters without hesitation.

But the next moment, a far more titanic presence that seemed to dwarf every presence combined immediately descended upon the entire Capital city. The sky twisted, space rippled, lights flooded the sky in various gradients and shades as unknown gases began to form, the heavens themselves warping under the pressure.

The sky danced with purple, red, white, blue, and black colours, then with a crack, the void yawned open, and the immense presence skyrocketed beyond all measurable limits as though the heavens were about to collapse and could no longer hold on.

Everybody halted, every fight ceased instantly, their eyes moving towards the sky where a nebula that seemed to swallow the entire sky had formed. They didn’t need to guess, they didn’t need to think, they all knew it in their bones, in their minds, in their souls, the man hailed as the strongest within the Zarethorn Empire, the Primarch, the Duke of the Wargraves had arrived; Azaron Wargrave, a being whose very existence redefined the meaning of power.

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AUTHOR’S NOTE: I have nothing to say today. Just thank you for your continuous and endless support despite my shameless acts of begging and asking for super gifts as though money fell from the sky. Really appreciate and love y’all, thank you, truly.