Beneath the shrouded canopy of trees in the stillness of the night, Asher lay motionless, fast asleep atop a thick branch, as though the weight of the world held no claim over him. His breathing was soft and steady, the gentle rise and fall of his chest barely noticeable in the moonlit gloom.
If word ever spread of what Asher Wargrave, the Tenth Sun, was doing at that very moment, few would believe it. During the True Awakening, a brutal ordeal where every Wargrave was fated to lose at least a limb, he had chosen to sleep, despite bearing what was widely known as the most harrowing trial.
And at that very moment, the Wargraves who watched from afar could scarcely believe their eyes. None among them had ever dared attempt such a thing during their own trials, sleeping during the True Awakening was unthinkable.
Quite simply, not a single one of them would have.
Virelass remained still and vigilant. If she possessed eyes, they would no doubt be flickering restlessly within their sockets as she swept her gaze across the forest, tirelessly surveying every shadow and rustle.
Time slipped by, and an hour and twenty minutes passed in silence.
Then, Asher stirred.
With slow, deliberate movement, his body shifted upright. He settled into a seated position upon the branch and opened his eyes, calm and unhurried, as he took in the dark expanse of the forest around him.
’System, how long was I asleep?’ Asher asked silently.
[An hour and twenty minutes, Host]
The system’s response chimed crisply in his mind.
’They should be arriving any minute now,’ he thought, eyes narrowing slightly.
Virelass began to hum softly as she floated around him, her movements inquisitive, almost anxious, as though silently asking if something was wrong.
"I’m fine. Stop panicking." Asher murmured with a sigh.
At his words, her humming quieted, gradually fading into a soft, contented resonance.
He took a moment to assess his condition. His stamina had returned, not fully, but well enough. It was more than sufficient for what was to come.
’My Astra has finally recovered,’ he noted internally.
His Astra veins were now overflowing with Astra as he had only needed to recover only seventy percent. ’Even Virelass’ Astra has recovered’ his thoughts continued.
Asher dropped from the tree with fluid grace, landing soundlessly as his feet met the forest floor. The mist coiled around him, thick and restless, shifting like a living thing eager to consume all that dared enter its domain.
He knew the assassins would arrive soon.
And he had no intention of running.
There was no point in hiding, not that he could, even if he tried.
Though he had only left three assassins behind before falling asleep, Asher was certain more had arrived during his rest. Reinforcements, no doubt. But it didn’t matter. Their numbers were irrelevant.
It changed nothing. The outcome was already decided, at least, in his mind.
As if reality itself had heard his thoughts, a volley of throwing needles suddenly cut through the mist, whistling toward him from the front.
Asher didn’t flinch.
Virelass surged forward in a blur, her form flickering through the air like a phantom. With effortless grace, she deflected every needle, their sharp points scattering harmlessly to the ground.
But the threat hadn’t passed.
Several assassins had already closed the distance under the cover of mist. Among them was the same woman who had slashed open Asher’s chest earlier. Her twin daggers gleamed with deadly intent as she lunged, this time aiming for his throat.
Still, Asher didn’t call Virelass back.
He had no intention of blocking.
His body shifted smoothly, feet gliding across the earth with controlled grace. He moved like wind through tall grass, evasive, fluid, untouched. Each strike missed by mere inches, not because they lacked speed, but because he had already slipped past them.
But the assassin was relentless. She moved in perfect tandem with him, her steps fluid, calculated, each motion devoid of hesitation. Her daggers struck only with purpose, never once aimed at a fatal point without intent. Every slash, every thrust, sought to dismantle his combat prowess piece by piece, crippling his movement, dulling his reflexes.
Eyes. Brain. Chest. Lungs. Legs. Thighs.
She targeted them all.
But Asher saw through her as if she were an open book. Unlike before, when exhaustion had dulled his edge and robbed him of his movement, this time, he could read her every move... and now, he could respond.
In the very next breath, Asher’s hand blurred into motion as his legs surged forward, his fist already hurtling toward her abdomen like a thunderous echo.
The assassin was caught off guard, her eyes widening at the sudden shift in his momentum.
A sharp boom resounded as his fist landed, but Asher felt... nothing. No resistance. No impact. No flesh. No bone.
His hand passed cleanly through her.
Her form dissipated into smoke.
’So this is how she passed through Virelass...’ Asher’s mind raced, the memory flashing, ’This must be her ability.’ He recalled the earlier moment, when she had injured him.
The assassin instinctively stepped back, but Asher was already there, closing the distance in a flash. He had read her movement before she even made it. His leg whipped out in a sweeping arc, a low kick meant to destabilize.
She leapt, graceful and swift, evading it with ease.
But the attack was a feint.
In an instant, Asher’s body surged upward, his fist snapping toward her head with lethal intent. The assassin shifted into her smoke form, attempting to slip through the strike, but this time, it was futile.
A surge of purple lightning danced across Asher’s fist as it collided.
The impact was immediate.
Her body was launched backward, a blur of motion and pain, her scream torn away and swallowed by the roar of thunder that followed.
Before her body could even touch the ground, the earth beneath Asher surged upward and twisted unnaturally, an attempt to trap him in place. Stone bent like muscle, clamping around his legs.
But Asher shattered the restraint with a single step, his legs moving with effortless force.
Yet that brief moment was all the opening his enemies needed.
The hammer-wielding assassin was already upon him, the whip-user trailing closely behind like a shadow. The wind cracked with violent intensity as the blunt side of the hammer cleaved toward his skull.
Asher didn’t block.
He slipped past the strike with a fluid sidestep, his motion ghostlike, impossibly clean.
In his hands, twin daggers gleamed, taken from the very assassin he had just dispatched.
Closing in on the assassin’s flank, Asher’s hands moved with lethal intent, aiming to sever the enemy’s wrist. But his Omni Perception flared, catching the whip slicing through the air from his blind side.
Without hesitation, Asher abandoned the strike.
He launched into a series of five rapid backflips, each one precise, creating space between himself and the advancing duo.
Off to the side, Virelass held her ground, keeping another assassin at bay with ruthless efficiency, preventing it from drawing close, even as the rest began to converge on Asher.
Asher’s breathing remained steady and controlled, his purple gaze swept across the battlefield, reading every movement, every intent, every heartbeat of the assassins encircling him.
Then, slowly, a smile formed on his lips.
He was enjoying this, far more than he would ever admit.
His knees bent forward ever so slightly, his muscles coiled, as if ready to erupt like a spring, but before he could....