CLEAVER OF SIN - Chapter 377

Chapter 377: Price
As usual, hours blurred into one another as noon swiftly approached, the sun climbing to its zenith in the sky. Its burning rays seared down upon the forest, yet the heat seemed to have no effect on the group on the escort mission. Not a drop of sweat marred their skin, no fatigue weighed upon their bodies, and their movements remained fluid and composed, as though the sun itself were powerless against their endurance.

Suddenly, a high-pitched screech shattered the ambient tranquility, a sound that rolled across the air in thunderous waves. Shadows cascaded downward from above, eclipsing the sun, blotting out the warmth and light. The entire forest seemed to dim as the darkness of the descending shapes spread over the earth.

Every eye immediately narrowed as a wave of malice radiated through the air. The group did not need to be told what it was, Emovira.

Instinctively, heads snapped skyward. About seven Emovirae floated menacingly above them, their forms reminiscent of birds yet distorted and grotesque. Their eyes glowed with hatred, wings a tumultuous mix of black and crimson, feathers sharp and seemingly forged from obsidian.

Without hesitation, the seven airborne monstrosities spread their wings wider than normal. Their feathers hardened, becoming as durable as steel. Then, as though fired from an invisible machine gun, hundreds of feathers erupted from their wings, descending with lethal force toward the ground. Each projectile gleamed with a deadly shimmer, sharper than any blade, capable of piercing even the toughest armor.

“Everyone, take cover!” Norman’s voice cut sharply through the chaos, slicing through the thunderous screeches and the rush of wind. It was an order, though in reality, it was unnecessary; no one in the group would have remained still to watch such an attack strike them.

Aiden, stationed at the carriage, did not flinch. He remained seated with an air of absolute composure, untouched by panic or fear despite the barrage raining down. Astra energy surged through his Astra veins, with a subtle motion of his mind, the wind responded instantly, forming a protective sphere around him, the carriage, and the Enduron horses. Each projectile struck the sphere and bounced harmlessly away, as though the wind itself were a wall of steel.

Clara, too, remained elegantly unmoved atop her horse. The attacks passed through her as though encountering a mirage; she shifted seamlessly into her shadow form, allowing each feather to phase harmlessly through her body. All the while, the group maintained composure, their calm demeanor unshaken. After all, these Emovirae were mere Rank 2, formidable but hardly challenging for warriors of their caliber.

Most of the feathers that struck the earth embedded themselves with immense force, tearing up the soil as though it were nothing more than paper. Dust and debris billowed upward, shrouding the battlefield in a fine haze that obscured the sun, giving the scene a ghostly, surreal quality.

“Finch!” Norman’s voice rang again, cutting through the air with calm authority. Norman did not know whether Finch possessed any airborne capabilities, after all, the enemies were entirely in their element. Yet, he did not truly care; this was an opportunity for the boy to show what he was capable of.

‘Finally,’ Finch thought, a surge of excitement coursing through him. Without hesitation, he sprang into action. With a focused motion, his soul bound black chain appeared in his hand. With a swift flick, he sent the chain streaking into the air toward one of the bird-like Emovirae. The other end of the chain remained in his grasp, pulling him upward in a blur of black motion, ascending into the sky with remarkable speed.

Reaching a strategic height, Finch twisted his body, coiling his muscles like a spring about to release its energy. With a sharp motion, he lashed the chain like a whip toward one of the Emovirae. The creature attempted to block with its hardened feathers, but Finch’s assault was heavy and overwhelming. With a violent burst, feathers and blood erupted into the sky as the Emovirae’s head was obliterated, its corpse plummeting toward the earth before disintegrating into a cloud of ash.

A single Astra-forged foothold appeared beneath Finch’s feet, a triumphant smile spread across his face as he leapt forward, tearing forward elegantly and continuing his assault. The remaining Emovirae moved with the grace of the wind, but their domain held no advantage over Finch’s chains. Within mere minutes, he had systematically eradicated all seven adversaries, then descended to the ground with immaculate control.

Norman observed silently, a subtle nod of approval acknowledging Finch’s skill. ‘A noble is indeed a noble,’ he mused internally, marveling at the young boy’s instinctive battle sense and refined prowess.

Finch, grinning broadly, remounted his Enduron horse, satisfaction lighting up his features. To him, the exhilaration of finally moving freely in combat was invigorating, a testament to the rigorous training he had endured under Instructor Elowen. The airborne battle had tested everything he had learned, and he had excelled.

Without further hesitation, the horses pressed forward, continuing the journey seamlessly. Normally, veterans like Aiden or members of Norman’s personal team would never halt, but Norman had intentionally slowed the pace, uncertain of Finch’s full capabilities. The decision was cautious yet considerate, allowing the younger warrior room to adapt and demonstrate his skill.

Two hours passed in a blur, the sun climbing higher and growing harsher with every passing moment. Yet to the group, it mattered little; the sun’s intensity could not pierce their endurance or focus.

Suddenly, Norman’s expression shifted, a subtle frown crossing his usually composed features. Asher noticed immediately, his attention sharpening instinctively. Norman’s voice then tore through the air like a thunderclap: “Disengage!”

The command was instantaneous in its effect. Every member of the group shot into the air, abandoning their Enduron horses as though they were weightless. In an instant, they vanished from their previous positions. Moments later, a mind-shattering explosion erupted at the location they had occupied, the force rippling upward with devastating intensity.

The air thickened with choking smoke, dust, and debris, reducing visibility and suffocating the senses. Trees were flung backward, some split and shattered by the shockwave, others reduced entirely to ashes or splintered fragments. The forest itself seemed to recoil from the eruption of raw force.

Asher’s frown deepened, recognizing the premonition in Norman’s earlier expression. ‘It must have originated underground,’ he deduced, his body moving like a shadow through the air. He landed lightly on a nearby tree branch with the grace of a cat. He understood that his Omni Perception had a blind spot beneath the surface, which explained why the incoming threat had remained unseen until it manifested explosively.

His senses stretched, scanning the surrounding area within a hundred meters, yet no enemies were detectable, even if they hid, their presence should have been apparent. ‘Perhaps they are too far away for the range of my perception,’ he considered, narrowing his purple eyes as he focused on the epicenter of the explosion.

When all others had evaded the blast, only Norman remained. The man stood near the carriage, untouched and unshaken, as if impervious to the detonation. Through the haze of smoke and dust, he emerged: tall, composed, their hair immaculate, and the carriage beside them pristine, as though the catastrophic explosion had never occurred.

As Asher’s mind raced, cataloging potential abilities that could allow Norman to withstand such force, beyond mere physical fortitude, he suddenly sensed something new. No longer a vague presence, but a multitude of distinct entities. People… many people. Within moments, the unknown assailants closed the hundred-meter gap, encircling Asher, William, Finch, Aiden, Norman, Clara, Samuel, and Daniel with unnerving precision.

They were clad entirely in black, each wearing a stark white mask that concealed their faces. Their movements were calm, measured, and eerily composed, yet the aura of bloodlust radiating from them was unmistakable, a silent promise of violence and blood.

None of the mission participants were naive. They understood immediately that they were being specifically targeted. These newcomers were not mere bandits, their numbers alone disproved that assumption. Their organization, their uniformity, their deliberate approach left no doubt about the lethal intent they carried.

Previously, Asher had wished for something interesting to happen, and it seems fate had answered his request. But now, how many people will die within his team as a price for fate answering his request remained unknown at the moment.

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AUTHOR’S NOTE: Thanks for the gifts, comments, and the golden tickets.