CLEAVER OF SIN

Asher sat silently in his carriage as it rolled forward under the moonlight, wrapped in the blanket of the night. At this time, Lyra wasn’t with him inside the carriage; she sat on her own horse, riding just beside the moving vehicle.

Asher sat with his eyes closed. The window beside him was also shut as he remained deep in thought. He could still feel his boots soaked with the heavy, iron-rich smell of blood. With every part of his body enhanced, especially his senses, the scent slammed into his nostrils like a tidal wave.

He felt nauseous. He felt like vomiting, as though he could literally taste the blood on his tongue. But Asher didn’t dare throw up; he clenched his jaw and forced everything back in.

Asher couldn’t be blamed. Prior to his transmigration, when he was still Ethan, he had never been in a single fight, not even a minor scuffle involving a thrown fist.

So naturally, Asher hardly ever saw blood. Even when he did, it was either from a minor bruise or a small cut that produced a mere drop and nothing more.

But this, this was different. The only reason he hadn’t vomited at this point was due to the two day long massacre of weak beasts that had crossed his path during this journey to the capital. Their blood had stained him repeatedly. Slowly but surely, he had gotten used to its sight and stench.

’I wonder what it would feel like to kill a person,’

Asher thought, his mind drifting as he stared blankly ahead. He knew that sooner or later, he would have to fight someone to the death.

Asher was sure, even a split-second hesitation on his part could lead to decapitation. But he wouldn’t hesitate. He didn’t plan to. And he knew that this gut-twisting sensation, this nauseating discomfort, would pass eventually.

It was only a matter of time. He would adapt. He had to.

Besides, that wasn’t the only thing bothering him.