Four days had passed since Ethan’s transmigration into this new world. In that brief span of time, he had come to terms with his reality. He had embraced this world... no, his world.
He had accepted this family as his own. He had accepted Asher, for he was now Asher. He had embraced it all. Yet, at his core, he remained unchanged. The world might have shifted around him, but it would not reshape who he truly was.
Over the past few days, Asher had largely confined himself to his room, limiting his interactions with the outside world and only emerging when absolutely necessary. During that time, he had grown somewhat closer to Lyra.
Yet, despite their increased familiarity, the dynamic between them remained unchanged, a clear line drawn between master and servant, nothing less and nothing more.
Within those four days, whispers had already begun to circulate, rumors that Asher had finally emerged after an entire year of self-imposed isolation. A year spent locked away, refusing to face reality. A year spent running from the world.
Now, talk spread not only of his return but of his newfound presence in the library, and the subtle yet undeniable shift in his demeanor.
And, of course, the Ninth Sun; Thalric, did not let the opportunity slip by. Seizing the moment, he began spreading malicious rumors: that Asher had been harassing the maids, and that his visits to the library were merely a ploy to browse Martial Arts techniques he intended to sell in preparation for his inevitable banishment.
Lyra was not spared from the swirling rumors. Her name passed from mouth to mouth, entangled in Asher’s fate. If punishment awaited him, she would not escape it. Bound to him by duty and oath, she was destined to follow him, through disgrace, through exile, until the moment of his awakening. To live beside him. To fall with him.
Such was her path. A woman of formidable power, reduced to a shadow of status by the weight of her loyalty.
Yet Asher and Lyra remained unfazed. Unmoved by the rumors, they carried on in silence. From dawn until dusk, Lyra stood guard outside Ethan’s door, by Asher’s command. A precaution born not of paranoia, but of realism.
Asher understood all too well: in most worlds, power dictated truth. In a place governed by survival of the fittest, the one with the biggest fist was always right.
From the books he had read in the library, he knew the Wargraves were bound by strict codes: they were forbidden from killing or even striking one another, regardless of the depth of their hatred or personal grudges.
Disputes were settled only through formal duels or an ancient family tradition known as Death by Duel, where combatants fought until only one remained standing.
But the Wargraves’ strict prohibition against physical violence outside of formal duels did not guarantee safety. It did not mean that no one would attempt to strike, or assassinate, him in secret.
After all, there was a first time for everything in this life, much like the unprecedented child birth by a non-Primarch.
Asher understood that even if he reported an assassination attempt, without concrete evidence identifying the culprit, no justice would be served, no matter how certain he was of their guilt.
Call it paranoia if you will, but it was far wiser to have Lyra standing guard outside his door, day in and day out.
Asher lay beneath a crimson duvet, his chest rising and falling in a gentle, steady rhythm as he drifted in deep sleep. Sunlight filtered through the window, its warmth tempered by the drawn curtains, casting soft shadows across the room.
Minutes later, his violet eyes fluttered open, adjusting to the quiet morning light. He sat up slowly, lingering for a moment as his thoughts clung to the fading remnants of a dream — Jennifer. She had appeared again, vivid and loving, in the fragile landscape of his mind.
He couldn’t simply erase her from his heart, despite having accepted this world, this new reality. Jennifer was his first love, his first everything. Though he was whole as a man, it was she who made him feel truly complete. He couldn’t casually cast her aside just because of his transmigration.
Yet deep down, he knew that, sooner or later, he would have to let go, whether he was ready or not.
Sometimes, he found himself wishing that Jennifer had transmigrated alongside him into this world. Yet, just as often, he chastised himself for such selfish thoughts. Unlike him, an orphan, isolated even among the children of the orphanage, Jennifer had a family.
A real family. Parents, siblings, cousins, grandparents. He could never wish the burden of transmigration upon her, knowing how it would shatter the bonds that held them together. After all, what family wouldn’t swell with pride to have a medical doctor among their ranks?
To sever such a bond would be nothing short of selfish.
With a heavy sigh, he rose from his bed and approached the curtain. Drawing it aside, he let the golden rays of the sun spill across his flawless face, welcoming the new day.
"Some things never change," Asher murmured, recalling how, in his past life as Ethan, opening the curtain had always been the very first act upon waking. And here, in this new world, that habit remained unchanged.
His gaze drifted to the clock on the wall, noting the time before he turned and made his way toward the bathroom. As he prepared for his bath, his mind raced ahead to the day’s impending event: The Awakening.
The day of the Awakening had finally arrived, and with it, Asher’s seventeenth birthday. Yet no one had come to wish him a happy birthday, not that he expected it, for he barely knew anyone here.
He felt no nervousness about the Awakening itself. As a transmigrator, he was certain it would come to pass. What unsettled him was the thought of meeting the other members of his family.
During a Wargrave’s Awakening, all family members, the Primarch, the Great Elders, the Elders, the Suns, and the Moons, were required to be present. It was a solemn occasion, marking the addition of a new member to their ranks.
For Asher’s first Awakening, attendance had been mandatory, and the entire family had gathered. By the second, fewer had come, as their presence was no longer obligatory. Now, on the eve of his third Awakening,
Asher was almost certain that very few, if any, would appear. Yet, despite the slim chance, his heart quickened at the mere thought of encountering the Elders, or even the Primarch.
"Nothing will go wrong. I will turn this hell mode world into my easy mode, just like my past life," Ethan spoke to himself, continuing his bath with steady and calm pace.