After a few exchanged words between father and daughter, Azaron and Wuthenya rose to their feet. Azaron reached for his red cape and fastened it around his shoulders. There was no need for him to don armor, as he constantly wore it as naturally as one would wear ordinary clothing. To him, armor was no different from fabric. As for Wuthenya, she never wore armor at all. She had refused it ever since she was a child, finding it restrictive and unnecessary.

Together, they walked out of the chamber. Azaron had a group of Knights to address. Ender floated casually at his side, humming as he suggested, yet again, that Azaron skip the entire formal process and simply head straight to the Assassin Guild to wipe them out himself. As always, Azaron ignored him completely.

Wuthenya's soul-bound daggers did not emerge. Whether this was because they were unafraid of Ender's presence or for some other reason entirely, no one truly knew.

"Your siblings, the Third Sun and the Third Moon, are here. The Fifth Sun is also present," Azaron stated as they walked with calm, unhurried steps, his cape billowing behind him with each movement.

"What are they doing here?" Wuthenya asked. The last she remembered, they were all supposed to be handling their own matters elsewhere.

"They grew tired of calling the shots," Azaron replied evenly. "They simply wish to fight and avoid the burden of management."

Although the Third Sun, Third Moon, and Fifth Sun had never explicitly told him this, Azaron knew his children well enough to understand their personalities and motivations to a certain extent. He did not need words to discern their intentions.

Wuthenya shook her head lightly as she immediately understood and agreed with her father's assessment. She wasn't surprised by his words in the slightest. She also understood that they weren't technically Knights, but rather individuals operating under Azaron for the time being, until they decided to leave and join another battlefield of their choosing.

The Wargrave family had no Fourth Sun or Moon. This was because the Third Sun and Third Moon, Xavian and Xavienne, had outright refused to hold the title of the "Fourth" position. The two of them had battled and fought one another far too many times. Eventually, Azaron simply designated both of them as holding the Third position, thereby skipping the Fourth position entirely.

As a result, the Fifth Sun became the next recognized child after Xavian and Xavienne. His name was Apollo, Apollo Wargrave.

Before long, Azaron and Wuthenya stepped out of the building. They turned to the right, where roughly five hundred Knights stood assembled. Each of them stood perfectly still, their backs straight and spines aligned, posture flawless. Their eyes were sharp beneath their helmets, gazes unwavering. Every Knight was clad in armor bearing the insignia of the Wargrave family, red capes fastened securely and dancing in the wind as they stood.

No one dared to speak. Their eyes remained fixed solely on the Primarch who had stepped into view. Azaron didn't need to release his presence. His existence alone was enough. The moment he appeared, the air itself changed, growing heavy and oppressive.

He ascended the small elevated stage that Zarek had already prepared beforehand. Wuthenya did not follow him. Instead, she veered in another direction, toward where Xavian, Xavienne, and Apollo stood together, various smiles already present on their faces.

Wuthenya didn't need to ask. She knew these three were pleased simply because a battle was imminent. Even though they had no idea what the battle entailed, it didn't matter to them. A fight was a fight.

"Sister," Xavian said as his black eyes settled on the approaching Wuthenya.

"What are you doing here?" Xavienne followed immediately, as usual, speaking right after her brother.

"Father called me," Wuthenya replied calmly, a faint smile forming as she stood before them. "I'll be joining you in this battle."

"Hey, sis," Apollo greeted with an easy smile. Draped across his shoulders was his weapon, a scythe that seemed capable of cleaving through existence itself.

"Hey," Wuthenya replied with a nod.

"It seems this battle will be a heavy one, if Father called you as well," Xavienne said thoughtfully.

"I wonder why he didn't call Elder Brother," Xavian added, his own thoughts drifting.

At this moment, they were the only ones who dared to speak. The Knights were quieter than a graveyard, awaiting the Primarch's address without even the slightest shift in stance.

Standing atop the stage, Azaron got straight to the point.

"I have called you all here for a single reason," he began. "A new mission has presented itself, and we are to march into it. Our objective for this mission is simple, obliteration."

The Knights did not react. They remained silent and composed. They had obliterated more enemies than they could count. Obliteration was no different from sustenance to them at this point.

"Our target is the Assassination Guild," Azaron continued. "They targeted the Tenth Sun under the direct orders of their Guild Leader, and failed. That failure is the reason for this mission."

His gaze hardened.

"It appears the people of the Zarethorne Empire, and the world of Crymora, have forgotten the name 'Wargrave.' And so, we shall use the Assassination Guild to remind them who we are, what we are, and why we are." His tone was chilling.

At that moment, the air seemed to charge violently. Many Knights' expressions twisted with rage, their presences threatening to erupt as fury burned in their chests.

To them, anyone laying a hand on a Wargrave was committing sacrilege. At this moment, they wanted nothing more than to tear the assassins apart.

"Today," Azaron continued, "you will not ride your Enduron horses into battle. I shall teleport you there myself. And I expect nothing but blood and death."

As those final words left his lips, Azaron raised a single hand.

With a thunderous boom, an overwhelming amount of Astra energy erupted from his body, flooding the space and air alike. His Nebula affinity came to life as he bent space to his will. Reality warped at his command, and with a single thought, Azaron Wargrave teleported over five hundred people as though they were nothing more than a passing breeze.

And with that, the force that would bring ruin upon the Assassination Guild was set into motion.

_______

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hey everyone, thank you for your patience with me. I'm finally back in Nigeria. Chapters will come every day from now on. Also, thank you all for the support and love you've shown me till now. Without you, I wouldn't be able to win an award and be recognized for my work. Look forward to Cleaver of Sin coming in the panels as a Comic, also, Webnovel is doing a 2x Golden Tickets event. Any Golden Tickets you give me will automatically multiply by 2, meaning 1 Golden Ticket is now 2, and so on. Let's take advantage of this event. Thanks for reading.

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