Genetic Ascension

Chapter 1301: Culture

Sylas stepped out of the tower, his expression still quite calm. He didn’t know what happened or why it happened, but he chose to throw it to the back of his mind.

The moment he exited, he was buffeted by the sweetest of winds. It wasn’t from a bakery or anything, but instead that the nature here was just so… refreshing.

Maybe it was because he was used to city life on Earth, but this felt different.

Of course, he had been through the Trial where he was thrust into the middle of nature. But this still felt different from that. It was like Earth was still healing from scars others had left on it, even to the point its Aether Plane suffered as well.

But this world felt whole. It felt like it was allowed to grow and flourish the way things were always meant to. And it felt like a gardener had been carefully pruning it all along, ensuring it remained perfect and whole.

There was a flash before Sylas’ eyes as he was enjoying the flourishing scenery, and Gralith appeared. He nodded calmly and a platform appeared beneath the both of them.

“Here.”

As they soared through the skies, Gralith handed Sylas the rule book he had been asking for. The reason he couldn’t have it before was because, according to the rules, until he became an official disciple, he couldn’t. As for why they had such a rule for a rule book of all things… well, it was one of those things decided by those long dead that they continued to follow anyway.

Maybe that was what the Core Sanctum Warlord had meant when he spoke of breaking rules.

Sylas didn’t say much and just cracked the booklet open. Instead of finding words, though, he found a series of Runes that flashed before his eyes in a maze of twisting complexities. They were simple enough, but…

‘Hm…?’

Sylas’ eyes narrowed.

This was odd. He felt something unique from this rule book. They were definitely only simple Runes, and the rules themselves were clear enough. So much so that Sylas saw through them in a single glance.

But there was something more, something deeper.

Sylas almost slapped the book closed, his mind whirring with a series of thoughts. And then he opened it again, got the same feeling, and then snapped it closed again.

Gralith gave Sylas a glance back, wondering what was happening. Sure, he expected Sylas to be fast, just not that fast. But when he thought that Sylas was done, he opened the booklet again… and then closed it again.

What was he doing?

“Are all of these rule books the same?” Sylas asked.

“They should be,” Gralith replied slowly.

“Do you have another?”

Gralith thought for a moment and then took another one out. He had a few, actually. Not for any particular reason, it was just that the rule books were commonplace throughout the Sanctum. If you spent enough time around this organization, you were bound to pick up more than one at some point.

Sylas took the second rule book and flipped it open.

‘The same, but different…’

“Can I see all the ones you have?”

Gralith handed them over. There were 12 of them. Some he had simply because he was the Scorpion Warlord who had disciples to teach. Others he couldn’t even bother to recall how he had picked them up.

Sylas flipped through them all, his eyes glowing brighter and brighter every time.

Each one was just the slightest bit different, as though they had been imprinted by a unique fingerprint along the way.

It didn’t just feel like it was the fault of the one that had the booklet at the time, but it also carried forth all those that had come before it too. This wasn’t just a rule book. It was…

“Culture.”

Sylas whispered the word.

If you kept this rule book on your person, or you read it even once, it influenced you in a unique sort of way. It didn’t just ingrain the rules into you, but the spirit of the rules themselves.

The thing was, though, that these rules seemed to be ever flowing, ever changing. It wasn’t that the rules themselves were rewritten, but instead that the intent, the core of the meaning behind it, the truth of it all, was constantly being redrawn by future generations.

Always changing, always shifting, and yet the same nonetheless.

So long as the core, underlying principles remained, everything would likewise continue to be the same as well.

But how could Runes meant to do little more than relay words in the most easily contained and digestible way possible coalesce together to form something greater than that? And how could you change these Runes, and yet have them continue to convey nearly the same meaning?

A Spark.

Sylas’ eyes glowed with a fierce light. This sort of sameness, and yet fluidity—but rigid guidelines, and yet accepting to change…

That was it.

He was thinking of Spark Mastery in such rigid terms. But if he created a Seed, he would be locking it into one path. If he created a new Will around it, he would also be locking it into one path.

Rune Mastery wasn’t ever meant to be so constrained in the first place. It was something designed to be a reflection of the world. There were so many languages, so many different methods of conveying the same things, but the universe ultimately only had one way of communicating.

So why was it that everyone else had distilled things into so many avenues?

That answer, Sylas didn’t have quite yet. But he had a clue.

Humanity versus Demons.

Two different paths, two different complete languages, two directions that couldn’t have been more different from one another.

Culture.

That was what he needed to instill into his Runes.

The next step felt so logical.

Not long ago, he had managed to sense emotions from his Runes and it took his casting to a completely new level. Now, his Runes felt like a group of unruly children that all wanted to go down their own paths—that was why he had thought of following a more rigid path.

But that wasn’t necessary.

All he needed to do was put some soft guardrails.

And then…

Sylas’ eyes flashed with a blinding emerald light.