CLEAVER OF SIN

Asher and the rest of the students felt their world tilt and spin violently, as though reality itself had been thrown off balance. Then, all of a sudden, their senses returned in a rush, grounding them back into existence as they felt their feet press firmly against the solid earth beneath them.

Asher's eyelids fluttered open, his gaze darting across his new surroundings. Once again, he had been swallowed by that same familiar white light and transported elsewhere.

But unlike before, this was not a grand ceremonial hall. Instead, he found himself within a long hallway that stretched forward.

He quickly realized that he was not alone. Within this hallway stood the rest of the newly admitted students, two hundred of them, all scattered around, their eyes wide with wonder and confusion. Their heads turned restlessly from wall to wall, straining to take in every detail as curiosity surged through them.

Chatter quickly spread, whispers blossoming into a steady hum as the students conversed among themselves. Some could not contain their awe, their astonishment written plainly on their faces as they gazed with wide, almost childlike eyes at their surroundings.

The nobles, on the other hand, attempted to compose themselves, lifting their chins with feigned indifference. But even among them, restraint faltered. After all, this was the Star Academy, an institution spoken of with reverence and envy across the continent.

To stand here was a dream for many, and even prideful nobles struggled to remain unaffected.

Above the hallway hung an elaborate chandelier, its crystal-like ornaments refracting light that cascaded downward in dazzling brilliance. The entire hallway glowed under its luminance, shining with grandeur despite the fact that it was still daytime outside.

Suddenly, a loud creak echoed through the hallway, pulling every gaze toward its source. A massive double door set into the side of the hallway swung open with deliberate slowness, its hinges groaning softly. At once, two hundred heads snapped in unison, eyes narrowing with sharp curiosity.

As the double doors opened completely, a hall revealed itself. Unlike the others, this one was far grander, resembling a theater in both scale and design. Rows of seats climbed upward in ascending order, granting each person a clear view of the wide elevated stage at the very front.

Upon that stage stood a solitary podium, dignified and commanding, as though awaiting someone of great importance.

No one dared move forward immediately. The students stood rooted, hesitant to intrude without explicit permission, as if crossing that threshold uninvited would be a sacrilege.

"Move. We don't have all day."

A voice boomed from the side, firm and commanding yet utterly calm.

Leaning casually against the wall near the double doors was a man, an instructor, by the look of him. His arms were folded neatly across his chest, his expression unreadable yet carrying authority strong enough to quell any hesitation.

The students did not need to be told twice. Their eyes lingered on him for only a moment before they understood. This was a teacher, or at the very least, someone tied to the Academy's authority. At his command, they began to shuffle forward in groups, each student filing into the grand theater with expressions ranging from nervousness to wonder.

The moment they stepped inside, their eyes widened further. The hall practically radiated wealth. Ornate carvings decorated the walls, silver railings gleamed at the ends of the staircases, and the crimson carpet spread out like a sea of luxury. Every inch screamed extravagance, as though countless platinum coins had been poured solely into constructing this one hall.

Many of the commoners and lower-ranking nobles were visibly overwhelmed. Their eyes darted greedily, secretly wondering how much any single decoration might sell for if stolen and resold. Inwardly, some joked about sneaking out with one of the chandeliers or wall ornaments. Such was the power of wealth displayed before those who had never known true luxury.

Within moments, all the students had moved forward, each claiming their seats with steps that were both steady and eager. The nobles of the Ducal and Imperial houses immediately asserted themselves, sweeping toward the front rows as though the place had been reserved for them all along.

They sat with postures refined to perfection, their hair immaculate, their garments shining with impeccable detail. They sat like kings in miniature courts, their subordinates clustering naturally around them.

Asher observed all of this without so much as a flicker of interest. Instead, he simply moved past them, climbing the ascending stairs toward the back rows.

'Who in their right mind would want to sit in the front? This isn't some basketball or football game,' he thought dryly.

He ascended until he reached the middle tier, then turned down a row and seated himself calmly. But no sooner had he settled than he noticed someone slipping into the seat beside him.

It was William.

The boy had been following him since the very beginning, and now he had chosen to sit right at his side. William, after all, had very few people he considered friends, and Asher was perhaps the closest thing he had found so far.

If Asher had sat in the front among the top nobles, William likely would have chosen an entirely different seat, but here he was comfortable.

Asher did not mind. He wasn't the type to push others away unnecessarily. He wasn't a lone wolf by nature, nor did he intend to become one.

Even in his previous life, when he had lived as Ethan, he had friends, people who had stood beside him. He was not about to suddenly morph into the archetype of a cold, solitary protagonist simply because he had transmigrated into another world.

This was reality, not some cliche novel.

Still, the other students avoided their row deliberately. The empty seats around them were not coincidental; they were intentional.

Whispers of the "Tenth Sun" clung to Asher like a shadow, and no one truly knew the boy's nature. What if years of humiliation, ridicule, and disdain had warped his mind into something dangerous? What if his personality had twisted into something unhinged? The students decided it was safer to steer clear of him altogether.

It was then, without warning, that another figure made her way up the steps and into their row.

Ryaen Silvershade.

She approached with an expression as composed as ever, her steps carrying an effortless grace that seemed almost regal. When she stopped at the row, her eyes fell directly on Asher.

"Is this seat taken?" she asked, her voice measured, calm, and without hesitation.

Asher's gaze lifted to meet hers. Her dark, crystalline eyes glimmered faintly under the lights, and for a moment he found himself quietly acknowledging her beauty.

'She really is stunning… It's strange. People in these medieval-like times often seem to be blessed with natural beauty, while in modern times, most had to hide behind layers of makeup or surgical enhancements to even come close,' Asher mused inwardly.

Still, none of these thoughts escaped his lips. Admiration was all he felt, nothing more. He was not so infatuated as to fall hopelessly in love simply because he had once crossed blades with her once.

"No," he replied calmly. "You're free to sit wherever you like."

Ryaen inclined her head slightly in acknowledgment before slipping into the seat beside him, her movements fluid and refined. She positioned herself neatly on his left, while William sat firmly at his right.

William said nothing at first. His gaze flickered briefly toward Ryaen, curiosity dancing faintly in his eyes, but then he looked away. A moment later, however, he leaned forward, whispering into Asher's ear.

"Why is she sitting with us?" he murmured, his voice low, careful not to carry too far.

Asher leaned back toward him, keeping his reply equally hushed. "Why don't you ask her yourself?"

Before William could answer, a cool voice interrupted from Asher's left.

"I can hear both of you perfectly."

It was Ryaen. She had not even looked at them when she spoke, yet her words cut cleanly through the air.

Both Asher and William froze. They coughed lightly in unison, the sound embarrassingly awkward, and then turned their gazes forward, staring at the stage as though utterly engrossed by it. Neither replied, silently pretending that the young woman sitting beside them did not exist.