Asher exited the training grounds in silence, with Lyra materializing at his side as if by instinct. Neither exchanged words, there was no need. An unspoken understanding had long been established between them.
Lyra knew Asher’s routine well. After each session at the First Training Ground, he would return to his quarters to continue his relentless self-discipline. She never intruded upon his silence, never offered unsolicited counsel.
She simply observed, ever present, yet never overstepping her bounds.
As for Asher, once he discovered that his body could operate at peak condition with only four hours of sleep, he embraced the regimen without hesitation. Those few hours became his sole rest, every remaining moment devoted entirely to training.
That night passed in quiet intensity, with Asher honing his mastery over the lightning element before finally allowing himself sleep.
Dawn crept in gently, sunlight filtering through the room in golden shafts. Asher rose precisely on time. The first training session began at 7 a.m., and punctuality was non-negotiable. He knew he had to arrive early, Harold had no tolerance for tardiness.
From what Asher had observed, even his status as a Sun might not shield him from punishment.
Just as Asher prepared to head out, Lyra stepped into the room and spoke, her tone calm and composed.
"Good morning, Young Master. I’ve been instructed by Mr. Zarek to inform you that your training plans for today have been cancelled. You have other matters to attend to. The instructors at the First Training Ground have already been notified."
Asher paused, momentarily caught off guard. He hadn’t even completed a full week of training, and now he was being pulled away?
’Are they assigning me a personal instructor because of my talent?’ he wondered. It was the only explanation that made sense to him.
But why speculate when he could simply ask?
"Do you know what this is about?" Asher inquired, his voice calm but curious.
"No, Young Master," Lyra replied, shaking her head lightly. "I did ask Mr. Zarek, but he offered no details, only that we would be informed in due time."
With no answers forthcoming, Asher made a quick decision. As much as he would have preferred to continue training, it seemed wiser to conserve his strength in case the day demanded something more... physical.
Without another word, he climbed back onto the bed and slipped beneath the duvet. Within moments, he was asleep.
Lyra watched in quiet surprise. She had expected him to wait in contemplative silence, not drift off so effortlessly. A faint smile touched her lips. Without disturbing the peace, she stepped out and gently closed the door behind her.
Though still early when he first returned to bed, just past 6 a.m., four quiet hours slipped by, and the time now stood at 10. A firm knock at the door roused Asher from his sleep.
"Come in," he said, rising from the bed.
The door opened, revealing Zarek with Lyra standing silently behind him.
"Good morning, Tenth Sun. I trust you rested well?" Zarek greeted with a slight bow.
"I did," Asher replied evenly. "Now, what’s going on?"
There was no room for pleasantries, his tone was direct.
"You’ll be briefed by the Primarch himself," Zarek answered with a faint smile before turning on his heel and exiting the room.
Asher exhaled through his nose, his expression unreadable. Without delay, he moved to follow, falling in step behind Zarek as they made their way to wherever the Primarch awaited.
They arrived at a location entirely different from where Asher had last encountered the Primarch. It was unfamiliar, yet grand in a subdued, authoritative way. Without hesitation, Asher stepped forward with calm, composed strides.
He felt no fear in the presence of the Primarch. The man’s lack of warmth, his cold, unreadable expression, was nothing new. It was, after all, a common trait among his siblings.
"I greet the Primarch," Asher said, bowing with formal grace, his right hand placed firmly over his left chest.
Seated at the head of the chamber, the Primarch regarded his youngest son with golden eyes, piercing, steady, and unreadable.
"It seems you’ve made quite the progress since our last meeting," Azeron said, his tone devoid of emotion, his expression carved from stone.
But deep within, hidden behind his stoic mask, the father in him smiled, a quiet, invisible joy that only a parent could feel upon witnessing the growth of their child after tireless effort and expectation.
"As your son, that much is to be expected, Primarch," Asher replied smoothly, though internally he cringed at the formality of it all.
"I have a task for you," Azeron said, his tone as flat and composed as ever.
Asher remained silent, his posture steady. He knew better than to interrupt.
"The Emperor’s Twins will be celebrating their birthday in five days. You are to attend the gathering and represent the Wargrave," Azeron stated plainly.
Asher’s mind stirred. He was well aware of the Emperor, the sovereign of their vast Empire, but he had never met the man, nor anyone from the Royal Family. And now, he was being dispatched to what would likely be a grand, politically charged event.
"You will depart today," Azeron continued. "The journey to the capital will take three days. That will be all, you may leave."
No further details were offered. Just like that, the audience was over.
Asher gave a curt nod and turned to leave. Lyra, as always, followed silently, her presence a shadow behind him as they made their way back to his quarters.
Once inside, Asher sat on the edge of his bed, his thoughts drifting as silence settled around him. His gaze unfocused, fixed somewhere distant.
Royal gatherings like this rarely brought anything good.
Being a celebration hosted by the Emperor himself, it was all but certain that the other three Ducal families would be in attendance, alongside a host of nobles spanning every tier of the aristocracy. In Asher’s mind, it was a congregation of prideful peacocks, each vying for power and recognition.
And yet... there was a part of him that looked forward to it.
All his memories, his entire existence thus far, had been confined within the Wargrave estate. As was tradition, no Wargrave was permitted to set foot beyond its borders until they had awakened their powers. Now, with that rite fulfilled, Asher was being sent out into the wider world.
For the first time, he would see it with his own eyes. And that, despite the pomp and politics of it all, stirred something within him.
"I suppose it’s time to meet a parade of arrogant young masters who believe the world revolves around their titles," Asher muttered under his breath, a faint smirk playing at the corner of his lips.
His thoughts shifted again. In scenarios like this, an heir traveling to the capital for a high-profile royal event, the risk of an ambush was more than a possibility; it was almost tradition.
"I hope they assign enough guards to protect me on the road," he murmured, his tone more practical than fearful.
He hadn’t suddenly become invincible overnight. There was no cheat or divine shortcut at play. Yes, he was talented, exceptionally so, but talent was only the foundation.
Growth required time. He was still at the very beginning of the path, still at the lowest Life rank.
Despite viewing the event as little more than a gathering of entitled nobility, Asher found himself anticipating it in his own way. He looked forward to witnessing their arrogance firsthand, to hear the boasts of young elites who believed themselves gods in human form.
Reading about such characters in books was one thing. Watching them strut and posture in real life... that was an entirely different experience.