Genetic Ascension

Chapter 1428: A Risk.

Sylas didnʼt know what an Empyrean Dungeon was, not really. He knew that it was something of high level, he knew it was far more dangerous than an Astral Dungeon, and he knew that this one wasnʼt located in the Milky Way Sector, but instead another Sector.

However, he did know two things.

The first was that his Luck was warning him not to.

The second was that he had to go.

Everyone was worried about the Thryskai and their next move, or maybe the Sanctum and their coming challenge, but this wasnʼt what Sylas was concerned about at all.

Playing games of chess with the Thryskai or the Purvon, or helping or blocking the Sanctumʼs path to success—he didnʼt care about any of that.

He only had one goal and one goal alone.

Be Strong.

His movements were just the same as they were on Earth: moving toward the greatest places of danger and pitting himself up against them.

These clever moves that rocked entire organizations were little more than background noise to him.

Sylasʼ Ape Warlord Armor was formed again, only to shatter, and then form again.

Every time he formed it, it was slightly different, but no matter the changes he made, it was a perfect 100% Mastery every time without the slightest chance of failure.

He drew them as though he was casually breathing, but every time he did so, it seemed as though the Armor was growing darker, blacker, more sinister.

It wasnʼt good enough to embody Rage. Sylas didnʼt want fury to dictate his Armor; he wanted a controlled Madness—a comprehension of oneself that allowed one to tap into oneʼs emotions and yet didnʼt cloud the vision or the mind.

Madness.

It had been a long time since Sylas had had a breakthrough in his Madness Comprehension. It sat at Bronze Grade and Progenitor Mastery, but every step upward was like climbing straight up without the slightest hint of a slope.

It didnʼt help that with the True Pride Seed, his desire for self-reflection and improvement had gone down the gutter. He was perfect. What need did he have for such a thing?

At least… that was what a normal Pride Seed wielder would be thinking.

Sylas wasnʼt thinking this, however. It was just that making enormous breakthroughs in your mindset and understanding wasnʼt as easy the more of yourself you were accepting of.

Sylas had already progressed his Comprehension beyond a level most would ever touch in the F-tier; expecting more was likely expecting too much.

Even so, this Comprehension was more than enough to elevate the Ape Warlord Lineage to a completely new level.

By the time Sylas had reformed the Armor for the fifth time, it was practically oozing a black aura, the hints of crimson that had once colored it being overwhelmed and washed away.

And yet, Sylas still shattered it again, and then again, and then once more after that.

No matter how many times he formed it, he seemed to be completely uninterested in the result.

Not good enough.

Still not good enough.

Sylas paused, his eyes cold as he stared out into space. He was missing something.

The First Layer of the Armor was a movement technique that layered into their methods of attack. When Sylas first saw it, it reminded him a lot of [Primal Step].

The Second Layer of the Armor was a projection of Will a lot like Madness, dimming the Will of an opponent to do battle.

The Third Layer was like Berserk.

However, this was just the Warlord Armor, and it wasnʼt immediately obvious what weakness needed to be shored up.

For the Scorpion Warlord Armor, it was plainly obvious to Sylas. [Earth Escape] had no business existing within the abilities of its Layers.

But whether it was the movement/attack method, the Will projection, or Berserk… all of them seemed to be in line with the path of the Ape.

Except…

Sylasʼ eyes flashed.

He remembered that disgusting feeling he had gotten when he first drew the Armor—that desire to crouch down onto all fours and run on his limbs that way.

ʼThatʼs the problem.ʼ

Sylas had fixed that problem so quickly he had forgotten that it was a problem. But those habits—they were still engrossed in the Armor.

That small thing changed everything.

When the First Layer was used, it made the movement more heavily reliant on all four limbs instead of just two. When the Second Layer was used, it took the shape of howls as though a wild beast instead of a controlled predator. When the Third Layer was used, it made one lose their minds for the amplification of power instead of amplifying strength in exchange for stamina and blood alone.

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The reason the problem wasnʼt as plainly obvious as it was with the Scorpion was because the problem was the entire Armor.

Chi.

Sylas shattered it all again, his Madness Comprehension brewing. His eyes turned the slightest sheen of red as his hair rose.

Ta. Ta. Ta.

One shingle after another slapped into place. This time, they werenʼt black at all… but a familiar shimmering elder layered with Runes of dense crimson.

SHUUU.

Sylasʼ claws lengthened, his canines becoming more prominent as he seemed to grow a half meter in height. His muscles rippled, tearing his dress shirt to pieces as his frame pressed up against it.

However, even as the last pieces fell into place, Sylas wasnʼt looking at himself at all. His eyes were completely and utterly focused on the Gene of black, emerald, and crimson hovering before him.

—

[F-Grade Legendary Gene Detected]

—

Sylas seemed almost too calm looking at it. It only seemed natural that something of this caliber form for him. He was destined to be the strongest not because it was what he deserved, but simply because he was the best.

With a thought, he brought something out.

—

[Glyphspire Crucible (???) (Legacy Treasure)]

—

It seemed that it was finally time to use this properly. His reward from the Abyssal Cathedral gave him exactly what he needed.