Klon-klon itu lenyap seperti kabut, dan Hito kembali ke posisi semula dengan langkah tenang dan santai. Tidak setetes darah pun menodai kulitnya, tidak ada luka, tidak ada kelelahan. Ia tampak tak tersentuh, seolah tak pernah memasuki pertempuran sama sekali.
Asher mengamatinya dengan saksama, kekaguman kecil berkelebat di matanya. Ia selalu menganggap kemampuan berbasis klon itu menarik—serba bisa, berbahaya, dan penuh potensi tanpa batas. Tetapi versi Hito benar-benar lain. Tidak seperti klon pada umumnya, klonnya tidak memiliki batasan kekuatan, tidak ada pelemahan. Mereka replika sempurna. Dan itu membuat Hito mengerikan.
Dengan kemampuan seperti itu, Hito bisa menyusup ke kedua belah pihak dalam perang mana pun, mengirim satu klon ke dalam bayangan untuk melayani kekuatan gelap, sementara klon lain bergerak terang-terangan di bawah cahaya. Sumber daya, informasi, rahasia—semuanya akan mengalir dari kedua sisi, menyatu dalam satu pikiran.
Tetapi di luar spionase, ada kekuatan penghancur mentah. Jika Hito tumbuh cukup kuat, klon-klon pelaku bom bunuh dirinya saja bisa meluluhlantakkan kota menjadi abu, bahkan mungkin menaklukkan sebuah kekaisaran.
“Menurutku kau sebaiknya keluar dari Wargrave dan jadi teroris saja,” kata Asher santai, melirik Hito dengan seringai setengah serius.
Bibir Hito bergerak sedikit. Ini bukan pertama kalinya ia mendengar usulan itu. Orang lain sebelumnya juga pernah mengatakan hal yang sama, entah bercanda atau tidak.
“Bayangkan saja,” lanjut Asher sambil menyeringai. “Tidak perlu bergabung dengan geng kalau kau sendiri sudah seperti geng. Kau bisa menamai krunya The Suicide Squad, namanya memang sudah pas sendiri.”
Ella ikut menimpali dengan geli. “Serius, kenapa aku tidak pernah berpikir begitu? Kau benar-benar bisa membentuk geng. Dan bagian terbaiknya? Kau bahkan tidak perlu datang, cukup kirim klon saja sementara kau bersantai di rumah.”
Tapi Hito tidak menjawab. Ia berdiri diam di samping, tangan bersedekap, ekspresinya sulit dibaca. Ia tidak tertarik berdebat dengan mereka berdua.
Waktu berlalu, dan matahari mulai perlahan tenggelam di balik cakrawala. Sore pun tiba, memanjangkan bayangan di tanah hutan dan mewarnai langit dengan nuansa amber dan violet. Namun, tak seorang pun bergerak. Bahkan tidak ada yang berpikir untuk pergi.
Lagipula, Matahari Kesepuluh belum juga turun ke lapangan. Dan mereka semua menunggunya—Asher.
Bahkan Tom, Hito, dan Ella—meskipun penampilan mereka sendiri luar biasa—ikut tersedot oleh misteri di sekelilingnya. Konon setiap keturunan Wargrave membangkitkan elemen yang terkait dengan garis darah mereka, dan meskipun mereka semua sudah pernah menunjukkan kemampuan masing-masing, kemampuan Asher tetap menjadi rahasia. Belum sekali pun ia mengungkapkannya. Bahkan dalam percakapan santai sekalipun tidak. Dan anehnya, tak satu pun dari mereka pernah terpikir untuk bertanya.
Jauh di atas, tersembunyi di antara puncak pohon yang menjulang, tiga sosok mengamati dalam diam. Virek, Elowen, dan Harold, bersembunyi dari kerumunan, berdiri seperti penjaga bisu, mata mereka tertuju pada lapangan terbuka di bawah.
“Bagaimana menurutmu Matahari Kesepuluh akan menghadapi pertempuran pertamanya?” tanya Elowen, senyum tipis bermain di bibirnya sambil terus menatap lapangan di bawah.
Harold melipat tangan, nadanya penuh pertimbangan. “Hmm... Matahari Kesepuluh memang tidak diragukan lagi berbakat, sampai-sampai hampir terasa tidak wajar. Tapi ini berbeda. Ini pertempuran sungguhan, bukan teori, bukan sesi tanding. Aku menduga dia akan tampil spektakuler, seperti biasa, tapi... mungkin akan ada sedikit hambatan. Kecemerlangan pun bisa tersendat saat berhadapan dengan hal yang tak terduga.”
Virek, yang pandangannya tidak pernah beralih dari halaman novel erotis di tangannya, menyahut tanpa mengangkat mata. “Aku setuju. Meskipun dia sudah menyerap sebagian pengalaman kami, itu tetap berbeda. Menonton dan mengetahui itu satu hal. Mengalaminya sendiri itu lain hal.”
Benar sesuai sifatnya yang biasa tidak peduli, Virek tidak melirik satu pun peserta latihan selama pertarungan mereka. Bahkan untuk Hito, Ella, atau Tom, yang paling menonjol di antara yang lain.
Tetapi apa yang tidak diketahui siapa pun—tak seorang pun yang mengawasi dari atas pohon atau berdiri di sekitar lapangan bisa menebaknya—adalah bahwa ini bukan pertempuran pertama Asher.
Bagi kebanyakan orang, latihan penaklukan monster menandai pertemuan pertama mereka dengan binatang buas sungguhan. Itu adalah pengalaman pertama yang terkendali akan bahaya, darah, dan bertahan hidup. Tetapi tidak bagi Asher. Ia pernah berhadapan dengan monster sebelumnya. Bertarung. Membunuh. Berdarah.
Tak ada yang tahu, hanya karena Asher tidak pernah mengucapkan sepatah kata pun. Ia bukan tipe orang yang pamer, apalagi soal membunuh beberapa binatang buas peringkat Whisper dan Echo. Tidak ada kejayaan di situ. Tidak perlu perhatian.
Dan rumor? Tidak ada. Para Ksatria Wargrave dilatih untuk tutup mulut. Disiplin mengalir dalam darah mereka, kebisuan tertanam dalam tulang mereka. Jika ada di antara mereka yang melihat apa yang dilakukan Asher, mereka membawanya sampai ke liang lahat, atau setidaknya menguburnya jauh di dalam sumpah mereka.
Jadi sementara yang lain menonton dengan rasa ingin tahu, mengira ini pertama kalinya seorang jenius merasakan pertempuran... Asher hanya kembali pada sesuatu yang sudah ia ketahui.
Lalu, suara Drake bergema malas dari atas. “Asher. Veil.” Kata-kata itu menyambar seperti petir di seluruh tempat latihan.
Sejenak, keheningan berkuasa. Mata membelalak. Napas tertahan. Bahkan peserta latihan yang paling percaya diri pun merasa hati mereka ciut.
“Veil?” Pikiran itu menjalar di antara kerumunan seperti gelombang ketidakpercayaan.
Perbedaan antara Echo dan Veil bukan sekadar satu anak tangga, melainkan jurang. Seperti jarak antara malam dan siang, antara batu dan baja. Setiap lompatan peringkat dalam klasifikasi monster sangat besar, masing-masing menandai pergeseran fundamental dalam kekuatan, keganasan, dan bahaya.
Sebagian besar menduga Asher akan diuji melawan monster peringkat Echo di puncak kekuatannya—menantang, tentu, tapi masih bisa bertahan. Tapi ini? Binatang peringkat Veil? “Apa dia benar-benar sekuat itu?” Mau tidak mau mereka berpikir begitu.
Asher tidak bicara. Ia melangkah maju dalam diam, gerakannya tidak tergesa-gesa, tapi presisi. Setiap langkah tenang, penuh perhitungan, dan diisi oleh ketenangan yang hampir tidak wajar.
Dalam kilau samar, Virelass muncul di tangannya, bilah peraknya berdengung pelan. Matanya menajam, indranya meningkat ke puncak. Ia siap.
Lalu, pria itu muncul lagi. Tapi kali ini, ia membawa dua monster. Orc.
Kulit mereka hijau tua berlumut, meregang ketat di atas kerangka menjulang setinggi hampir delapan kaki. Pembuluh darah menonjol di lengan dan dada, massa otot mereka membesar hingga proporsi yang mengerikan. Masing-masing menggenggam gada logam besar yang dipenuhi paku berkarat tajam, lebih mirip lempengan kematian daripada senjata.
Saat pria itu lenyap ke udara, keraguan pun ikut lenyap. Para orc bergerak.
Kecepatan mereka absurd, sama sekali mengkhianati ukuran tubuh mereka. Dalam sekejap mata, mereka sudah berada di samping Asher—satu di kiri,
The clones faded away, vanishing like mist, and Hito returned to his original position with calm, unhurried strides. Not a single drop of blood stained his skin, no wounds, no fatigue. He looked untouched, as if he had never stepped into battle at all.
Asher watched him closely, a quiet fascination flickering in his eyes. He had always found clone-based abilities intriguing, versatile, dangerous, and filled with limitless potential. But Hito’s version was something else entirely. Unlike others, his clones had no power restrictions, no diluted strength.
They were perfect replicas.
And that made him terrifying.
With such an ability, Hito could infiltrate both sides of any war, send one clone into the shadows to serve darker forces, while another operated openly in the light. Resources, intelligence, secrets, they would pour in from both sides, converging into one mind.
But beyond espionage, there was the raw destructive power.
If Hito grew strong enough, his suicide bomber clones alone could reduce cities to ash, perhaps even bring an empire to its knees.
"I think you should quit Wargrave and become a terrorist," Asher said casually, glancing at Hito with a half-serious smirk.
Hito’s lips twitched ever so slightly. This wasn’t the first time he’d heard that suggestion. Others had jokingly, or not so jokingly, said the same thing in the past.
"Think about it," Asher went on, grinning. "No need to join a gang when you are a gang. You could call your crew The Suicide Squad, it practically names itself."
Ella jumped in, amused. "Seriously, how did I not think of this before? You could actually form a gang. And the best part? You don’t even have to show up, just send a clone while you relax at home."
But Hito didn’t reply.
He stood quietly to the side, arms crossed, his expression unreadable, he had no interest in arguing with those two.
Time slipped by, and the sun began its slow descent beyond the horizon. Evening crept in, casting long shadows across the forest floor and bathing the sky in hues of amber and violet. Yet, no one moved. No one even considered leaving.
After all, the Tenth Sun had yet to take the field.
And they were all waiting for him, Asher.
Even Tom, Hito, and Ella, despite their own remarkable showings, were drawn in by the mystery surrounding him. Each Wargrave descendant was said to awaken an element tied to their bloodline, and while they had all displayed their abilities before, Asher’s had remained a secret.
Not once had he revealed it. Not even in passing conversation.
And oddly, none of them had ever thought to ask.
High above, nestled within the crown of a towering tree, three figures watched in silence. Virek, Elowen, and Harold, hidden from the crowd, stood like silent sentinels, their gazes fixed on the clearing below.
"How do you think the Tenth Sun will fare in his first battle?" Elowen asked, a faint smile playing on her lips as she kept her eyes fixed on the clearing below.
Harold folded his arms, his tone thoughtful.
"Hmm... the Tenth Sun is undeniably gifted, so much so that it borders on something unnatural. But this is different. This is a real battle, not theory, not sparring. I expect he’ll perform spectacularly, as always, but... there may be a slight hiccup. Even brilliance can stutter in the face of unpredictability."
Virek, whose gaze hadn’t once shifted from the pages of the erotic novel he held in hand, chimed in without lifting his eyes.
"I agree. Even though he’s absorbed some of our experiences, it’s still not the same. Watching and knowing is one thing. Living it is another."
True to his usual disinterest, Virek hadn’t spared a glance at any of the trainees during their fights. Not even for Hito, Ella, or Tom, the most noteworthy of the group.
But what none of them knew, what no one watching from the trees or standing around the field could have guessed, was that this wouldn’t be Asher’s first battle.
For most, the monster subjugation exercise marked their first encounter with a real beast. It was a controlled first taste of danger, blood, and survival.
But not for Asher.
He had faced monsters before. Fought. Killed. Bled.
No one knew simply because Asher had never said a word. He wasn’t the type to boast, especially not about slaying a handful of Whisper and Echo ranked beasts. There was no glory in it. No need for attention.
And the rumors? There were none. The Wargrave Knights were trained to keep their mouths shut. Discipline ran in their blood, silence ingrained into their bones. If any of them had seen what Asher had done, they took it to their graves, or at least, kept it buried deep within their oaths.
So while others watched with curiosity, expecting a prodigy’s first taste of battle...
Asher was merely returning to something he already knew.
Then, Drake’s voice lazily echoed from above.
"Asher. Veil."
The words struck like a lightning bolt across the training grounds.
For a moment, silence reigned.
Eyes widened. Breaths hitched. Even the most confident trainees felt their hearts falter.
’Veil?’
The thought rippled through the crowd like a wave of disbelief.
The difference between Echo and Veil wasn’t a simple step, it was a chasm. Like the gap between night and day, between stone and steel. Every rank leap in monster classification was massive, each one marking a fundamental shift in power, ferocity, and danger.
Most had expected Asher to be tested against an Echo-ranked monster at its peak, challenging, sure, but survivable.
But this?
A Veil ranked beast?
’Was he really that strong?’ they couldn’t help but have such thoughts
Asher didn’t speak.
He stepped forward in silence, his movements unhurried, yet precise, each stride calm, deliberate, and filled with an almost unnatural stillness.
In a subtle flash, Virelass materialized in his hand, its silver blade humming faintly. His eyes sharpened, senses elevating to their peak, he was ready.
Then, the man appeared once again. But this time, he brought with him two monsters.
Orcs.
Their skin was a deep, mossy green, stretched tightly over towering frames that stood nearly eight feet tall. Veins bulged across their arms and chests, their muscle mass exaggerated to grotesque proportions. Each one gripped a massive, metallic club lined with vicious, rusted spikes, more of a slab of death than a weapon.
As the man vanished into thin air, so did hesitation.
The orcs moved.
Their speed was absurd, completely betraying their size. In the blink of an eye, they were already beside Asher, one to his left, the other to his right, their clubs raised high, descending like executioner’s blades toward his skull.
There was no time to think.
Only to act.
But Asher was already in motion.
The instant the orcs struck, his body darted backward with fluid motion. A thunderous boom followed as the spiked clubs slammed into the ground, the earth trembling violently before caving in beneath the impact.
Yet Asher didn’t just evade, he countered.
Virelass flashed forward in a sharp arc, aimed directly at the first orc’s Achilles tendon, a calculated strike meant to cripple. But the orc reacted with surprising speed, lifting its leg mid-swing and launching a brutal kick toward Asher’s head.
The massive foot entered Asher’s Omni Perception, his mind registering every muscle shift, every subtle twitch. With a seamless twist of his body, his center of gravity shifted, and Virelass moved in harmony, its flat side rising just in time to absorb the incoming blow.
A colossal force crashed against him.
Asher’s arms steadied against the impact, and though the rapier had lessened the force, the sheer power of the orc’s kick sent him skidding backward. His boots carved deep trenches into the ground, earth and dust flaring behind him as he regained control.
Before Asher could so much as catch his breath, the second orc was already upon him, its massive spiked club arcing toward his temple with terrifying speed, ready to turn his skull into pulp.
Asher reacted instantly.
Virelass cleaved through the air like a streak of silver, meeting the incoming blow head-on.
The collision was thunderous.
Steel met steel in a deafening metallic scream, the clash sending out a blinding shower of sparks. The sheer force of impact detonated the air around them, triggering a shockwave so violent it uprooted trees and blasted the earth backward in a sweeping, chaotic arc.
In the haze of smoke and dust, their figures blurred into silhouettes, locked in a brutal dance of speed and power. Again and again, they collided with earth-shaking force, their movements too fast for trained eyes of the trainees to follow.
Tremors rippled through the ground with every step, every strike, every impact. The orcs moved with deadly intensity, their enormous frames doing nothing to hinder their blinding momentum.
They weren’t just brutes, they were monsters in perfect form.
Raw power. Blistering speed. And an instinct for violence that made them terrifying foes.
They had it all.
But so did Asher.
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