Genetic Ascension

Chapter 1143: Thinking [Bonus]

[Bonus thanks to Kalinus <3]

Israeal stood to his full height, his scimitars angled slightly toward the ground. The earlier pain in his expression was gone.

He looked up toward where Jala had been and shook his head, a slight flicker of disgust on his expression—but even that only appeared for the briefest moment before it faded.

Now it was troublesome because…

“Thinking of how to allow me to kill you without actually killing you?” Sylas suddenly asked.

Israeal’s eyes narrowed slightly.

Sylas’ Scorned Wraps slowly lengthened, falling to the ground in pools of looping gauze.

“You know, I haven’t liked the Thryskai for a very long time. I heard that recently, one of your Demi-God Clans was wiped out, but you don’t seem to be a Demi-God yourself. A Mortal, it seems. Is the risk you’re taking by being here because of that?”

Sylas continued to meet Israeal’s gaze, his voice calm, deep, and almost soothing.

“The Kaelthar, is it? From my understanding, you’re ranked near the bottom of the seven Mortal Clans. I guess you would have to take such risks in this sort of situation, no?”

Israeal continued to not respond, but the calming rhythm of Sylas’ voice didn’t change in the slightest. It was as though he was just sifting through his own thoughts all the while.

“It would truly be a shame, even with such advantages—such a leg up—if you couldn’t accomplish what you set out to do today. All of that effort, all of those resources, all of that false hope and bravado you came here with.

“I can sense it in your Will, the way you look down on those you’ve fought until now. Even right this moment, you don’t seem to take me very seriously, thinking that your little ploy to pretend to take my strike was enough for me to believe that I could easily defeat you.”

Sylas’ Scorned Wraps stopped growing, a slow green glow beginning to crawl up their lengths. They rose into the skies, beginning to dance to a rhythm that almost matched Sylas’ breath.

Slow, even, controlled.

“Do you think I cannot tell that you want an excuse to kill him first and take what you want from him? But you don’t understand how to, you don’t think that you can, and you’re wondering if it’s worth it to even continue to try in this Dungeon.

“And now, you want me to rely on this Dungeon to save you, but you also can’t tell if it saved him just now because the trick I used the first time doesn’t work anymore, or if I let him go on purpose just to get a chance to kill you.”

Beads of cold sweat began to run down Israeal’s back. His expression changed as he curled his fingers along their own palms, shocked to feel that they were actually…

Moist?

His palms were feeling clammy in a way that he had never experienced before.

He was nervous? What was happening? What was this suffocating weight?

“You feel that?” Sylas tilted his head to the side, the calming tone of his voice remaining steady. “That’s what people without your level of background feel almost every day—tiptoeing around you, hoping they don’t offend you at the most random of moments, scratching and clawing for their own hopes at survival.

“That was what my Summoned World was like. It fell into the palms of beings far more powerful than me long before I was born, and there was little I could do to fight back against it. I learned how to deal with that stress, those thoughts of feeling I might die at any time, long ago.

“I wonder… have you? Or have you never really faced life and death yet?

“There’s nothing pretty about it. In fact, it’s quite disgusting. You’ll face a mirrored image of yourself that you can’t get out of your mind no matter how hard you try. No matter how much effort you put in, there’s no running from it.

“Right now, it seems you’re facing that version of yourself. That sweat accumulating on your body, the racing of your heart, the shallowness of your breath. Your Aether is hitching in their pathways, your Will is shot, your blood is running almost cold.”

Israeal clenched his teeth. And then it came—a sudden spike of danger that made his eyes open wide.

Sylas flashed, his body already appearing before Israeal, the compulsion in his gaze flickering with a dense might that suppressed an overwhelmed Israeal in an instant.

—

[Gene Talents]

…

[>Compelling Gaze]

—

[Suppressive Scouting] activated at the most opportune time. It felt as though a sledgehammer had suddenly pressed down onto Israeal’s forehead.

His attempt to open his third eye was interrupted, and a violent pulse of light came from Sylas’ own, making him feel a stinging pain in his own.

Lines of Will formed in the skies, a Runic method that Sylas hadn’t used since the Split Realm appearing once again—but this time, countless times more powerful than before.

It was ironic. He had learned these Runes from a Thryskai, Aki Pervon. It was what taught him how to apply his Will directly onto the world in ways he never had before.

Now, he had countless methods of doing so. Like an artisan picking from his box of tools, he picked out the perfect one for the job.

His fist drove into Israeal’s stomach before the latter could react, his body shifting and moving as an avalanche of blows came from all sides, one fluid motion feeding into the next as Sylas’ next move seemed entirely unpredictable.

He could feel it coming. He knew that the Dungeon was about to interfere. The moment it felt that Israeal was helpless, it would act—just like it had last time. It wouldn’t wait for the death blow.

And right at that very instant…

Sylas roared.

[Glassvolt Throne].

The suppressed emerald lightning in Sylas’ gaze finally unwound, rampaging out of control and shocking the world around him. At the same time, his loose Scorned Wraps formed a cocoon around them.

This Dungeon—it was a closed world of its own. And ever since the start, Sylas had been observing its Runes in silence.

It was nowhere near as complicated as a true world, and because of that…

—

[… But its power will be dependent on your understanding of the world you stand in.]

—

It played right into Sylas’ hands.

Chi.

Sylas’ claws flashed, [Chaotic Menace] extending them into a bladed mass of slashing sharpness that took Israeal’s head.

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