CLEAVER OF SIN

With a towel wrapped around his waist and another draped over his head, Asher stood before the mirror that hung neatly on the wall. His eyes lingered on the reflection staring back at him, drinking in the image of his own body.

His physique was nothing short of awe-inspiring. Muscles pressed firmly against his skin, compact and defined, forming a lean and powerful frame. His abs, perfectly arranged in a symmetrical six-pack, gleamed faintly under the light and water.

Every line, every contour, carried the weight of discipline and perfection, sculpted as though by the very hand of the gods themselves. Standing there, he resembled not merely a man, but rather the youngl incarnation of some forgotten war deity, reborn into flesh.

A faint smile tugged at the corners of Asher's lips as he gazed into the mirror. In his past life as Ethan, the sight before him would have been unthinkable. Back then, he had been an ordinary man, one who dreamed but never truly achieved it.

To possess such a body was a privilege so rare that even among the elite, only the top one percent of the top one percent could boast something remotely close. It was the kind of physique that professional athletes, bodybuilders, and martial artists labored their entire lives to chase, often falling short of ever reaching.

Now, he stood within the pinnacle of physical excellence, as though his very existence mocked the limits of human biology. This was the kind of body every man secretly wished to have, a form so balanced in grace and power that even the most accomplished athletes of his previous world would gaze with envy.

Muscular yet not bulky, agile yet strong, it was a body designed for battle and endurance, a body that spoke of authority and raw potential.

Still smiling, he turned away from the mirror.

With a flicker of light, his luggage box of clothes materialized onto the wooden table, summoned from his space ring.

Moving with careful ease, he sifted through the neatly folded garments and selected a set that appealed to him. After slipping into his clothes, he waved his hand, and the luggage box disappeared once more into the void of his space ring.

With a soft sigh, Asher sat down on the chair before him. But even as he did, he found another smile creeping across his lips. The amusement was difficult to suppress, for the irony of his life never failed to strike him.

He had never wished for reincarnation or transmigration. Unlike the countless readers of web novels in his previous life, dreamers who fantasized about waking up in another world, wielding power and rewriting destiny, he had never seriously entertained the thought.

At most, it had been a fleeting curiosity, the kind of idle musing one humored for a moment before dismissing.

And yet, here he was, the impossible dream made real.

He was about to enter an Academy, no, not just any Academy, but the Star Academy.

If it had been an ordinary school, one built merely on intellect and textbooks like the universities of his previous life, he might have grown bored and disinterested.

But this… this was the Star Academy.

A place where superpowered individuals were trained, honed, and forged into living legends. A crucible where only the most gifted survived and thrived.

How could he not look forward to it?

Questions swirled restlessly within his mind.

What kind of training methods would they employ? What activities, both mundane and extraordinary, awaited him? How powerful were the instructors who would guide, or perhaps test, them? Who was the Principal, and what mysteries cloaked the higher-ups of the Academy?

What about the second-years and third-years, veterans who had already endured the Academy's harsh methods? Were there clubs, societies, and extracurricular activities, or was everything devoted purely to combat and cultivation?

These questions tore through his mind like a storm, filling him with anticipation. Excitement and eagerness coursed through his veins, his heart thrumming with excitement.

During the feast with the grand hall, he had forced himself to maintain composure then, to keep his emotions masked beneath an indifferent facade.

But no matter how cooly he carried himself, no matter how much restraint he feigned, it did not change the truth. He was a transmigrator, and the weight of that reality would stir emotions in anyone. Who wouldn't feel an overwhelming rush of awe and expectation when standing at the threshold of such new sights like the Star Academy?

'I wonder how strong the other top tens are,' Asher mused inwardly. He knew he could not be the only one carrying extraordinary strength or secrets.

The Academy was bound to gather monsters of talent from every corner of the Empire.

'I look forward to clashing with them… if the Academy permits it.' But then again, what was the point of an Academy that claimed to forge the strongest if it denied its students the chance to test themselves? Surely, battles between the students were inevitable.

His thoughts drifted, almost unbidden.

'Hmm… I wonder how Lyra is doing.'

Lyra, his personal maid, had been relieved of all duties in his absence. It meant that she no longer had to lift a single finger within the Wargrave estate. She could now wake at leisure, eat when she pleased, and wander aimlessly if she wished.

Her life, once tied completely to his service, had been unmoored. For eighteen years, his entire life, she had remained by his side. From birth until this very moment, they had never once been separated.

Even during the darkest days of the original Asher, when despair and shadows seemed to drown him, she had been there. Quiet. Watchful. Caring. She never overstepped, yet she never abandoned him either. She was a constant presence, unmoving, like the moon in the night sky.

Now, with him gone, how must she feel?

Asher's chest tightened slightly. He could almost imagine the hollow ache in her heart, the feeling of being cast adrift. For eighteen years, her life had revolved around a singular purpose: caring for him. And now, that purpose had been stripped away. What was she left with?

He thought about it carefully. Imagine dedicating nearly two decades of your life to a single role, only to wake one day and realize you no longer had a reason to wake at all. Could anyone easily adjust to that? Could anyone seamlessly transition into a life of self-interest after so long?

Some might say she should train, use the time to raise her Life Rank, but Asher understood better. It wasn't so simple. Growth at her level required more than free time. It demanded monumental effort, resources, and a ridiculous amount of time. Such things could not be conjured merely because one suddenly found themselves idle.

'I hope she doesn't miss me too much,' he thought with quiet melancholy.

Though he was not the original Asher, he had grown fond of Lyra in his own way within the year he spend with her by his side. He wasn't dependent on her, nor was he overly attached, but he valued her presence.

He appreciated the way she anticipated his every need as though she could read him like an open book. She was the kind of person who entered his chamber the moment his feet touched the floor each morning, as if she had been waiting all along for that subtle vibration.

Even now, before he left for the Academy, she had gone out of her way to prepare food reserves that could last him an entire year, just in case the Academy subjected its students to harsh conditions or cruel trials. It was her way of caring, her way of making sure he was never left vulnerable.

Besides, at her Life Rank, ascending further was no easy feat. Advancement was nothing like breathing; it was arduous, time-consuming, and demanding. Even with resources, progress was not guaranteed. He knew this all too well.

His own cultivation had been eased by the cheat of his Absolute Physique, yet even he now faced a bottleneck. His once meteoric rise had slowed. Though the Star Energy around him continued to accelerate his growth, it was undeniable that true advancement would still require patience, discipline, and time.

And so he sat there, reflecting not only on himself but also on those who had been left behind in the wake of his new journey.