CLEAVER OF SIN

William's lips curved into a smirk as he replied, "Forgive me for saying this, Tenth Sun… but Mama raised no Bitch."

Asher stood silently, his gaze fixed upon William, who had spoken with utter conviction. Then, as though he had discovered a kindred spirit in madness, he allowed a gentle smile to tug at his lips.

Truthfully, he had expected the boy to step aside and join the others gathered to the left. If he himself had been placed in William's position, he likely would have done that without hesitation.

After all, possessing a noble title to inherit, be it even a mere Baron's title, was no small matter. It promised a life of relative security, a life of peace untainted by constant battle.

Such a life would mean waking up each day without fear, indulging in meals, enjoying rest, issuing commands to maids and butlers, signing documents, attending lavish balls and ostentatious gatherings organized by the nobility, and perhaps, in time, forming a harem of his own choosing.

It was the dream of countless men, a life free of perpetual struggle.

Of course, one could argue that he could have attained such comforts simply by remaining within the Wargrave family and becoming the Duke.

But to Asher, that seemed an unbearable burden of labor and expectations. Besides, his siblings were overwhelmingly powerful, to the point where overshadowing them felt impossible... for now.

And at the moment, he had no interest in concerning himself with the title of Primarch. To him, the position seemed to offer no advantage, merely responsibility upon responsibility, work piled upon ceaseless work.

Unless love itself bound him to such a path, he had no desire to even entertain the thought. For the present, he was content with the idea of remaining an Elder, eventually rising to the title of Great Elder when the next Primarch produced an heir.

Yet, in the quiet recesses of his thoughts, Asher entertained dreams greater than what others might deem sensible. Ever since his conversation regarding dethronement with the Third Sun and Third Moon, ideas had begun to brew within him.

Why should he limit himself to becoming a Duke when the possibility of becoming something greater, an Emperor, lingered in the distance?

Emperor Asher Del Wargrave.

The name resonated in his mind, regal and intoxicating, carrying a rhythm that almost seemed destined.

He chuckled softly, shaking his head and dismissing the useless thoughts crowding his mind. It was far too soon to dwell on such ambitions and thought. Before even daring to think along those lines, he would first need to attain strength on par with Malrik, an insurmountable peak for now.

"Don't die. Although, if you do, I will not mourn you." Asher remarked plainly, his voice calm, almost detached.

"I don't doubt that you wouldn't," William replied, chuckling mildly.

Though the son of a Baron, William's smile carried no trace of inferiority. He neither doubted himself nor placed his worth beneath that of the others present.

In the hierarchy of social standing, perhaps he might have ranked lower. But in the matter of personal strength, he was unyielding in belief.

To him, talent was the true currency, and he trusted his own abilities without reservation. In time, he was certain his strength would rise to such heights that titles, ranks, and ladders of nobility would crumble into irrelevance.

And such was the world's nature.

Take, for instance, Yevric. He could have long ago chosen to abandon the service of the Wargrave family, given the sheer might he wielded. And yet, even as the Commander of the Wargrave Knight Order, he remained. With his power alone, Yevric could look down upon any Duke he wished, because he possessed the force to justify such audacity.

In this world, power was everything. And William was certain that he bore the talent to raise the Canestane family from its modest standing as mere Barons to a house that would stand atop the noble ranks.

As the students finished making their choices, the old man who oversaw them spoke once more, his aged voice cutting through the heavy silence.

"Anyone else? Remember, there is a ninety-nine percent chance you will die."

But those who remained standing at the center did not flinch. Determination burned in the eyes of some, as though their current existence could not possibly be worse than death itself. Others bore indifferent expressions, unmoved by the claim, as if to them, a ninety-nine percent chance of death was no different from a zero percent chance.

"Since that is everyone, let us begin." The old man declared.

With a snap of his fingers, the students who had stepped to the left suddenly found themselves engulfed in a radiant, overwhelming light. In an instant, they were swallowed by the brilliance, vanishing completely, not merely from the hall but from the Separate Dimension itself.

Each of them reappeared within their respective noble territories, returned by the intervention of the Star Academy instructor who had once brought them here.

The old man then shifted his gaze back to the candidates who had chosen to remain. His eyes gleamed with something unreadable as he spoke.

"Now then, shall we begin? But first, allow me to correct myself. Earlier, I claimed there was a ninety-nine percent chance that you would all die. That, I must admit, was a lie."

His words struck them like thunder. To hear that their very lives had been toyed with so casually left many staring in stunned silence.

"Understand this," the old man continued, his voice grave yet unwavering. "Every battle in this life is a battle between life and death. If you fail to understand this truth, even now, then you are unworthy of being here. Your enemy will not face you in combat and then leave you alive out of mercy, so that you may recover later. Every clash ends with either your death or your opponent's death. There are no in-betweens, save for the rare moment one of you chooses to flee."

The candidates did not dare voice a complaint. Though his earlier lie had been cruel, they could not deny the truth carried within his words. Complaining was pointless, for none of them had chosen to leave with those who had stepped to the left earlier.

Some among them silently thanked the stars for the clarity of the revelation. Others remained unmoved, unsurprised by the old man's confession, as though they had seen through the lie from the very start.

Asher, however, simply smiled. He had believed the man wholeheartedly. It wasn't like he personally possessed some lie detecting ability.

"Why would the Star Academy send its next generation of pillars to their deaths?" the old man asked rhetorically, his lips curving into a light chuckle. "We are not in the business of creating bereaved parents and shattered families. If that were our way, this place would have long been stormed and crushed by numerous powerhouses."

Yet his chuckle found no echo. Not one of the candidates shared his amusement.

"Now," the old man continued, his voice returning to a calm, steady timbre, "let us proceed to the details of the exam. It is time to see whether you deranged children, so eager to gamble with your lives, truly possess the strength to justify such resolve."