Asher felt the world and the colors around him swirl and spin, as though he had suddenly become dizzy. Then, in the very next moment, everything snapped back into perfect alignment, returning to its rightful place in reality.
Blinking to steady himself, Asher opened his eyes and took in his surroundings. From what he could tell, he was now standing directly before the grand gates of the Wargrave Estate.
Virelass floated nearby with a faint hum, moving forward without even a moment’s hesitation. Asher followed closely behind. He was just about to issue an order to the Knights stationed at the gate to open it, when the massive gates creaked open on their own accord. He didn’t say a word. Without pause, he simply walked in.
The moment Asher crossed the threshold of the estate, numerous eyes of varying shades and intensities locked onto him, as if compelled by his presence. Each gaze carried a different reaction: shock, reverence, fear, happiness... and even lust. The onlookers were Knights, butlers, and maids, staff of the estate.
In the next heartbeat, every single one of them bowed deeply before Asher without uttering a word. Asher, remaining silent, walked past them all. His steps were calm, composed, and purposeful. His destination was clear, the towering, expansive castle that stretched wide and majestic across the estate grounds.
Upon arriving at the castle, Asher felt a distinct pressure in the air. It was overwhelmingly heavy, almost suffocating, yet he didn’t acknowledge it with words. He simply walked forward. A butler standing at the entrance door pushed it open for him, and Asher stepped inside.
Once again, a new wave of eyes fell upon him, slamming into him like a tide. But this time, they carried something entirely different. There was no reverence or shock. No fear. These eyes brimmed with madness, joy, and most of all, acceptance.
Asher’s purple eyes scanned the entire grand hall. He saw every figure present. The Nine Suns and Moons stood together in unity. The Three Great Elders and the Five Elders were also gathered. And at the highest point of the hall stood the Primarch himself.
They all stared at him, unblinking, each wearing wide grins that reached the corners of their faces. Asher’s gaze shifted, settling on Thalric. In Thalric’s eyes, he saw a flicker of acceptance, though his face remained completely expressionless.
In that instant, fragments of memory surged from deep within, memories that did not belong to him, but to the original Asher. He remembered vividly the moment he had failed his first awakening. He remembered the faces of those around him, looking down upon him from their elevated seats, their judgmental eyes cold and dismissive.
None of them had spared him even a glance after his failure. He had become a nonentity, a forgotten disappointment. After all, a Wargrave who failed to awaken on his first try was nothing but a disgrace. They cast him aside like refuse. He locked himself away for an entire year, drowning in alcohol, spiraling into despair.
In the end, he took his own life with drugs. No one even noticed. He died alone, unknown, unseen, unheard, and unloved.
Only Lyra had remained at his side, without saying a word, without judging him, without hesitation.
And yet, now, everything was different.
The same eyes that once regarded Asher with disdain now radiated acceptance and even affection. Asher could feel it in the subtle waves of aura they exuded. He had no doubt that if he were to raise his hand and point at someone, they would rush to draw their weapons and reduce that person to nothing but dust.
All of this had changed because of one thing; Talent.
Still, Asher had no desire for revenge on behalf of the original Asher. He didn’t see it as abandonment. From Ethan’s perspective, now inhabiting Asher’s body, the boy had simply run away from his fate, locking himself away from a world that had already given him one more chance to take hold of his future. He had surrendered.
But he, Ethan, now Asher, would do what the original could not. Just like in his previous life, he had clawed his way up from the bottom. Born and raised in an orphanage, overlooked and ignored as one of hundreds, he had still risen to the top of every field he entered, using nothing but his brain.
With that thought anchoring his heart, Asher’s lips parted, and he spoke with calm yet unhidden authority.
"I’ve returned, Wargraves."
The moment the words left his mouth, their auras flared violently, as though his voice had triggered a battle cry in their blood. Their battle intent surged, filling the estate and shaking its very foundations with maddening force. Asher stood his ground, unshaken. His own aura surged in response, spiraling upward until it reached the very roof.
They stared at him like predators sizing up their prey, and Asher didn’t falter for even a moment. He returned their gaze head-on, his presence distorting the very air around him.
Then a single footstep echoed across the hall. Calm, deliberate. The sound reverberated as though it came from a distant chamber, even though it happened right there in the open hall.
Azeron Wargrave, the Primarch, stepped forward and approached Asher. His voice was deep, regal, and filled with restrained pride as he spoke:
"Welcome to the family, Asher Wargrave. Stand tall and proud, for you have achieved the impossible."
As he spoke, he placed his palm firmly on Asher’s right shoulder.
Asher lowered himself into a respectful bow, placing his right hand upon his left chest. His voice rang out clearly.
"Thank you, Primarch."
Azeron gave a slight nod in acknowledgment, then turned away. His red cape billowed dramatically behind him as he walked back towards his private study. But as he moved, the grin on his face slowly softened into something unexpected, a genuine smile.
The attention in the room shifted. Every eye that had been fixed on Asher now turned to the Primarch in astonishment.
’The Primarch is smiling?’ they whispered to themselves in disbelief.
Azeron did not even try to hide it. Even if he wanted to return to his cold, neutral facade, he couldn’t. He was far too proud in this moment.
’Lily, are you watching?’ Azeron thought with a soft smile tugging at the corner of his lips. ’He’s grown into a fine young man from the disgrace they once labeled him as. He’s inherited your talent for the rapier, and even surpassed it. Soon, he’ll stand above you, using only the rapier techniques you once dreamed of perfecting.’
His thoughts drifted to his wife, Lily, who was no longer here to witness this transformation. If she had seen Asher’s true Awakening and his sheer talent with the rapier, Azeron was certain she wouldn’t have hesitated to obliterate the entire Lux Vanthelmor royal family just for making her son unhappy.
Azeron knew many would be stunned by the rare smile gracing his features. But now was not the time for such concerns.
He had something more pressing to do.
He needed to call Zarek.
He had to show him the battle recording, this bragging material was too good to pass up. And perhaps, just perhaps, it might finally push Zarek to settle down and start a family of his own.