Genetic Ascension

Chapter 816  Warlord Veil

Sylas exhaled a heavy breath, the strain pulling at his mind as though he was being stretched out by a gang of horses rushing in the four cardinal directions.

However, it didnʼt slow him.

His body flickered and vanished, appearing high above the battlefield and pressing a palm against the smooth ball. There was a pulse of Madness in his eyes, and a furious, tempestuous rage almost took tangible form.

His Demonic Will flared, and his arm flexed.

The press was slow to begin with, but then it suddenly exploded forth.

BANG!

The ball of smooth grey must have been just shy of two meters in diameter. Large, but not large enough to make one feel true despair… not until you felt the extent of its weight for yourself.

But in the hands of Sylas, it suddenly became a rubber ball.

The ball of smooth grey shot out like a rocket, its surface cracking beneath the pressure. A roar escaped Sylasʼ lips, and his telekinesis became akin to the flight wings of a soaring plane, the strength of his body propelling it forward.

BANG!

The ball ricocheted against the ground, bouncing up as it smothered a few lives to death, smearing their corpses across the greying ground.

Sylas vanished again, appearing high above the boulder and striking down.

The trajectory of the smooth ball changed again, this time suddenly jetting downward in a violent storm.

Sylas flickered around the battlefield again and again, using the deathly boulder as though playing a game of catch with himself. But with it, he steamrolled everything in his path.

After he formed the momentum once, he didnʼt seem to have the same problem using it again and again, a suffocating sort of momentum emanating from him.

There was no stopping him, no slowing him, no fighting back. When you met him, there was only death. There was only one way out of here…

A bloody mess.

Sylas flashed into the skies once more, a violet radiance exuding from him as the Scorpion Warlord Armor took shape in a blink. The steel-purple plates solidified and almost looked as though they had finally taken physical form.

Aether surged, and a torrential cyclone of it rushed toward the man in question until the Runes solidified like swimming tadpoles through the illusory amethyst.

+1000.

+2000.

+3000.

Sylasʼ Scorpion Warlord Armor crossed into Soul Mastery, the percentages shaking the world.

And at the same moment…

He caught the boulder out of the air. His claws sank into its mass, cracks spreading rapidly across its surface like cars racing through a track.

The echoes of shattering stone rippled, the muscles of Sylasʼ arm flexing.

And then… the boulder just stopped.

It hung there in the air, gripped by Sylasʼ arm as though it was no different from any other grocery bag of goods, swaying slightly, gently, as though it didnʼt have the weight of a small hill behind it.

Sylas raised his arm above his head.

BANG!

His claw squeezed down, and a pressurized wave sent the stone shattering apart in a falling meteor of rain.

Sylasʼ telekinesis gripped these bits and pieces, his Will infusing them with a cascade of Glassvolt Aether.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

Every time a piece fell, several died, the horrifying spectacle painting across their irises. They had been in this world of what felt like fantasy for so long, but this was the first time… the first time they felt as though they were facing off against a God.

Who… pissed him off… Olivia thought to herself, her heart shuddering.

Sylas landed on the ground, the battlefield a smoky mess of fires, sparking lightning, and the thick scent of blood and death.

The fire in the hearts of those charging seemed to have dimmed considerably. They were being controlled, and yet, step by step, their Will to survive was overwhelming the commands they had received.

Sylasʼ Will was akin to a mountain pressing down on them from above, a mighty tempest buffeting against them with relentless, untiring winds. They suffered millennia of erosion in what felt like brief instants of time, and they felt like their minds were just about to collapse.

One man holding up the skies.

That was what it felt like.

This mountain… was simply unattainable, a height that they couldnʼt scale even if they tried.

The echoes of claps suddenly resonated through the silent battlefield.

A man strolled out from within the army of blazing bronze, his hair prim and well-kept, and his armor almost seeming… designer. It was odd.

The metal was almost too flowery, the plates irregular in shape but pleasing to the eye. It looked more like modern armor built for a medieval-themed fashion week than real armor.

And yet, it only took Sylas a single glance to realize something quite profound.

Gold Grade Armor.

Sylas had only seen one Gold Grade Legendary Path Treasure until now—the spear of a certain Dogon. Of course, that was still in his possession, but he couldnʼt use it for obvious reasons.

This Gold Treasure, though… it was in the hands of a Human.

A Human who was radiating the aura of a Warlord.

Professor Broussard stopped walking, standing before the army of flickering bronze flames.

”This meeting has surely been a long time coming, Sylas Grimblade. I have seen a lot about you.”

Sylas didnʼt reply. His expression remained unreadable, a deep, fathomless well slowly growing in breadth within the depths of his pupils.

”A shame.” Professor Broussard shook his head. ”My original intention was to at least have a chat. But if you are unwilling to talk, that much is fine as well. We can simply end these matters now and not waste any time. Iʼve met many people like you before in my lifetime—stubborn brutes who donʼt understand their situation until the very last moment.”

The Professor raised a hand and snapped his fingers. A ripple of Aether jetted out. —

[Veil has been dropped]

[You have been the subject of a Warlord Veil.]