CHAPTER 57: VEIL

The clones faded away, vanishing like mist, and Hito returned to his original position with calm, unhurried strides. Not a single drop of blood stained his skin, no wounds, no fatigue. He looked untouched, as if he had never stepped into battle at all.

Asher watched him closely, a quiet fascination flickering in his eyes. He had always found clone-based abilities intriguing, versatile, dangerous, and filled with limitless potential. But Hito’s version was something else entirely. Unlike others, his clones had no power restrictions, no diluted strength.

They were perfect replicas.

And that made him terrifying.

With such an ability, Hito could infiltrate both sides of any war, send one clone into the shadows to serve darker forces, while another operated openly in the light. Resources, intelligence, secrets, they would pour in from both sides, converging into one mind.

But beyond espionage, there was the raw destructive power.

If Hito grew strong enough, his suicide bomber clones alone could reduce cities to ash, perhaps even bring an empire to its knees.

"I think you should quit Wargrave and become a terrorist," Asher said casually, glancing at Hito with a half-serious smirk.

Hito’s lips twitched ever so slightly. This wasn’t the first time he’d heard that suggestion. Others had jokingly, or not so jokingly, said the same thing in the past.

"Think about it," Asher went on, grinning. "No need to join a gang when you are a gang. You could call your crew The Suicide Squad, it practically names itself."

Ella jumped in, amused. "Seriously, how did I not think of this before? You could actually form a gang. And the best part? You don’t even have to show up, just send a clone while you relax at home."

But Hito didn’t reply.

He stood quietly to the side, arms crossed, his expression unreadable, he had no interest in arguing with those two.

Time slipped by, and the sun began its slow descent beyond the horizon. Evening crept in, casting long shadows across the forest floor and bathing the sky in hues of amber and violet. Yet, no one moved. No one even considered leaving.

After all, the Tenth Sun had yet to take the field.

And they were all waiting for him, Asher.

Even Tom, Hito, and Ella, despite their own remarkable showings, were drawn in by the mystery surrounding him. Each Wargrave descendant was said to awaken an element tied to their bloodline, and while they had all displayed their abilities before, Asher’s had remained a secret.

Not once had he revealed it. Not even in passing conversation.

And oddly, none of them had ever thought to ask.

High above, nestled within the crown of a towering tree, three figures watched in silence. Virek, Elowen, and Harold, hidden from the crowd, stood like silent sentinels, their gazes fixed on the clearing below.

"How do you think the Tenth Sun will fare in his first battle?" Elowen asked, a faint smile playing on her lips as she kept her eyes fixed on the clearing below.

Harold folded his arms, his tone thoughtful.

"Hmm... the Tenth Sun is undeniably gifted, so much so that it borders on something unnatural. But this is different. This is a real battle, not theory, not sparring. I expect he’ll perform spectacularly, as always, but... there may be a slight hiccup. Even brilliance can stutter in the face of unpredictability."

Virek, whose gaze hadn’t once shifted from the pages of the erotic novel he held in hand, chimed in without lifting his eyes.

"I agree. Even though he’s absorbed some of our experiences, it’s still not the same. Watching and knowing is one thing. Living it is another."

True to his usual disinterest, Virek hadn’t spared a glance at any of the trainees during their fights. Not even for Hito, Ella, or Tom, the most noteworthy of the group.

But what none of them knew, what no one watching from the trees or standing around the field could have guessed, was that this wouldn’t be Asher’s first battle.

For most, the monster subjugation exercise marked their first encounter with a real beast. It was a controlled first taste of danger, blood, and survival.

But not for Asher.

He had faced monsters before. Fought. Killed. Bled.

No one knew simply because Asher had never said a word. He wasn’t the type to boast, especially not about slaying a handful of Whisper and Echo ranked beasts. There was no glory in it. No need for attention.

And the rumors? There were none. The Wargrave Knights were trained to keep their mouths shut. Discipline ran in their blood, silence ingrained into their bones. If any of them had seen what Asher had done, they took it to their graves, or at least, kept it buried deep within their oaths.

So while others watched with curiosity, expecting a prodigy’s first taste of battle...

Asher was merely returning to something he already knew.

Then, Drake’s voice lazily echoed from above.

"Asher. Veil."

The words struck like a lightning bolt across the training grounds.

For a moment, silence reigned.

Eyes widened. Breaths hitched. Even the most confident trainees felt their hearts falter.

’Veil?’

The thought rippled through the crowd like a wave of disbelief.

The difference between Echo and Veil wasn’t a simple step, it was a chasm. Like the gap between night and day, between stone and steel. Every rank leap in monster classification was massive, each one marking a fundamental shift in power, ferocity, and danger.

Most had expected Asher to be tested against an Echo-ranked monster at its peak, challenging, sure, but survivable.

But this?

A Veil ranked beast?

’Was he really that strong?’ they couldn’t help but have such thoughts

Asher didn’t speak.

He stepped forward in silence, his movements unhurried, yet precise, each stride calm, deliberate, and filled with an almost unnatural stillness.

In a subtle flash, Virelass materialized in his hand, its silver blade humming faintly. His eyes sharpened, senses elevating to their peak, he was ready.

Then, the man appeared once again. But this time, he brought with him two monsters.

Orcs.

Their skin was a deep, mossy green, stretched tightly over towering frames that stood nearly eight feet tall. Veins bulged across their arms and chests, their muscle mass exaggerated to grotesque proportions. Each one gripped a massive, metallic club lined with vicious, rusted spikes, more of a slab of death than a weapon.

As the man vanished into thin air, so did hesitation.

The orcs moved.

Their speed was absurd, completely betraying their size. In the blink of an eye, they were already beside Asher, one to his left, the other to his right, their clubs raised high, descending like executioner’s blades toward his skull.

There was no time to think.

Only to act.

But Asher was already in motion.

The instant the orcs struck, his body darted backward with fluid motion. A thunderous boom followed as the spiked clubs slammed into the ground, the earth trembling violently before caving in beneath the impact.

Yet Asher didn’t just evade, he countered.

Virelass flashed forward in a sharp arc, aimed directly at the first orc’s Achilles tendon, a calculated strike meant to cripple. But the orc reacted with surprising speed, lifting its leg mid-swing and launching a brutal kick toward Asher’s head.

The massive foot entered Asher’s Omni Perception, his mind registering every muscle shift, every subtle twitch. With a seamless twist of his body, his center of gravity shifted, and Virelass moved in harmony, its flat side rising just in time to absorb the incoming blow.

A colossal force crashed against him.

Asher’s arms steadied against the impact, and though the rapier had lessened the force, the sheer power of the orc’s kick sent him skidding backward. His boots carved deep trenches into the ground, earth and dust flaring behind him as he regained control.

Before Asher could so much as catch his breath, the second orc was already upon him, its massive spiked club arcing toward his temple with terrifying speed, ready to turn his skull into pulp.

Asher reacted instantly.

Virelass cleaved through the air like a streak of silver, meeting the incoming blow head-on.

The collision was thunderous.

Steel met steel in a deafening metallic scream, the clash sending out a blinding shower of sparks. The sheer force of impact detonated the air around them, triggering a shockwave so violent it uprooted trees and blasted the earth backward in a sweeping, chaotic arc.

In the haze of smoke and dust, their figures blurred into silhouettes, locked in a brutal dance of speed and power. Again and again, they collided with earth-shaking force, their movements too fast for trained eyes of the trainees to follow.

Tremors rippled through the ground with every step, every strike, every impact. The orcs moved with deadly intensity, their enormous frames doing nothing to hinder their blinding momentum.

They weren’t just brutes, they were monsters in perfect form.

Raw power. Blistering speed. And an instinct for violence that made them terrifying foes.

They had it all.

But so did Asher.