"Curses…"
Asher frowned as he tightened his grip around the greatsword.
Across from him, the reinforced training dummies stood mangled and broken, deep cuts and dents carved into their surfaces. One had been split nearly in half, while another had simply collapsed under sheer force.
And yet—
Asher still looked dissatisfied.
With a quiet sigh, he released the weapon. The massive blade crashed onto the ground with a heavy clang as he rubbed his forehead tiredly.
He was currently inside one of Valor's exclusive training chambers, a luxury reserved for higher-ranking mbers of the clan.
And despite spending hours testing different weapons—
Nothing felt right.
Asher stared silently at the discarded greatsword.
Sunny had been right.
Swords weren't his best option.
Nephis loved preaching about how swords were the king of weapons. They were versatile, balanced and most importantly... adaptable.
For most people, that was true.
But Asher wasn't most people.
After Ascending, restricting himself to a single weapon style felt… suffocating.
Especially when he could wield multiple weapons.
He sighed, staring at the great sword on the ground.
It wasn't a mory. It seed that mories made by spell smiths didn't sit well with [Soul Veil].
At first, they had assud the transfer failures were simply compatibility issues. But after the third Spellsmith nearly suffered soul damage trying to transfer a crafted mory to Asher…
The truth beca painfully obvious.
[Soul Veil] rejected mories with foreign essence completely.
The mont a crafted mory attempted to bind itself to his soul, the Aspect destroyed it imdiately—sotis violently enough to injure the Spellsmith responsible.
It was absurd.
Terrifying, even.
And incredibly inconvenient.
The only mories Asher could safely receive were those created directly by the Nightmare Spell itself.
Most likely because the Spell had attached itself to his soul before [Soul Veil] ever awakened.
Which ant—
Asher was effectively barred from using externally crafted mories for the rest of his life.
"…Annoying."
He glanced toward his watch before letting out another tired sigh.
"The day's nearly over already…"
After wiping the sweat from his forehead, Asher turned and walked toward the exit.
That was when...
"Oh?"
A familiar voice stopped him.
"I didn't realize my knight was here."
Asher blinked.
Then slowly turned around.
Morgan stood a short distance away, watching him silently.
Her piercing vermillion eyes lingered on him for slightly too long, enough to send a faint chill crawling down his spine. Unlike her usual immaculate appearance, she was dressed casually today—a black tank top clinging lightly to her skin, dark hair tied back loosely.
Sweat glistened faintly along her arms.
She had clearly been training as well.
Asher frowned imdiately.
"What do you an knight?" he asked dryly. "Am I not supposed to be a prince?"
Morgan tilted her head slightly before shaking it.
"Why would you be?"
Her tone remained perfectly calm.
"My dear sister was adopted because of both her talent and her background. You may possess the talent…"
Her eyes drifted across him slowly.
"But not the background, Ascended Asher."
Asher rolled his eyes and resud walking.
"Damned Legacies…"
Morgan followed behind him without hesitation, calmly adjusting the gloves around her hands as she flexed her fingers.
"Ascended Asher," she said after a mont, amusent creeping into her voice, "are you actually angry?"
A quiet chuckle escaped her.
She sounded genuinely surprised by the possibility.
"Hey, it's not like I made the decision," Morgan continued lightly. "The Elders did."
She glanced toward him again.
"Besides, becoming my knight gives you standing equivalent to mine anyway."
That finally made Asher stop.
He turned slightly, narrowing his eyes.
"Your knight?" he repeated slowly. "I don't rember agreeing to that."
Morgan sighed dramatically.
"Neither did you agree to join Valor," she pointed out smoothly. "And yet, here we are."
Asher bit his lip irritably and started walking faster.
Unfortunately, Morgan matched his pace effortlessly.
"Please entertain with a conversation," she said with a faint smile. "It was only logical to appoint you as my knight."
Asher frowned.
Of course he knew... He wasn't an idiot!
Well... Maybe a little.
Morgan was a princess of Valor.
So was Nephis.
And now Asher was openly affiliated with Nephis.
That alone disrupted the internal balance of power within the clan significantly. If left unchecked, Nephis' faction would beco overwhelmingly dominant—especially once the Abyss Hounds fully aligned themselves with her.
Morgan couldn't allow that.
So instead of opposing the imbalance directly—
She absorbed it.
By tying Asher to herself politically, Morgan effectively secured partial influence over both him and the Abyss Hounds.
Nephis possessed Cassie and the Fire Keepers.
Morgan possessed Asher and the Abyss Hounds.
This would allow a semblance of balance between the two princesses.
He clicked his tongue.
"Hey, what is it that you really want? Why are you tailing ?"
Morgan's eyes finally narrowed.
"You know, Sir Asher…" she said softly, "I truly appreciate how direct you are."
Her lips curved slightly wider.
"It makes things much easier."
Asher narrowed his eyes.
Morgan took another step forward.
"It's nothing too complicated," she said casually.
"I simply want a spar."
_______
[Sorry for so many interludes. Even I am hoping Antarctica starts soon. Hmm.. 150 Ps and an extra chapter cuz why not. It will be over quicker.]
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