Genetic Ascension

The Thryskai stood in the skies with that sickly sweet smile. He knew that everything here was in the palm of his hands, just perfectly in his control.

Several gazes filled with hatred and discontent landed on Old Brama. He had never been able to control his temper or the things he did. He always moved to the beat of his own drum.

When his value surpassed the faults he carried around with him, that was fine. But in these last several decades, it felt like he was just making one mistake after another, getting muddled in his old age, chasing after things that were beyond him as though he could feel his own mortality and wanted to forcefully change things.

Unfortunately, that was just not how things worked.

You couldn’t just defy the natural order of things just because you wanted to.

At that moment, someone came rushing through the broken doors.

“Grandfather! Don’t!”

Megean was huffing for breath. It wasn’t a surprise that it had taken her so long to catch up. Considering the gap in strength between herself and Old Brama, the result was obvious.

But when she saw the scene before her, and the palm imprint setting into a bloody mess, her face paled.

She was still too late.

Megean knew that she was quite the airhead sometimes. She got it from her grandfather. Sometimes she ended up so focused on a task that little details slipped outside of her control.

But everything was always fine because of how powerful her family and Old Brama were.

Even so, she knew what things she should say and what she shouldn’t. She had actually never brought up the incident to her grandfather at all.

Instead, her grandfather brought up her marriage, and how he knew that she had always hated it. Then he had said that if things worked out this time, there might be a chance to split from it and marry the man she truly wanted to.

If not for the suppression of Old Brama all these years, how could Megean ever be betrothed to someone she didn’t like? The old man doted on his granddaughter far too much.

Unfortunately, Megean had made the mistake of thinking about Sylas at that time. She didn’t even know the man, and she couldn’t even say that she liked him. If she did, it wasn’t much more than a crush.

Even so, at least to her conscious self, Megean didn’t think that things were even that deep. It was just hard to forget the man who had accidentally seen something he shouldn’t have when she was so innocent otherwise.

What she didn’t expect was that an involuntary blush would lead to a line of questioning that left her grandfather fuming out of his ears.

She had tried her best to stop him, to say that he was wrong and that Sylas hadn’t done anything to her, and that he was too weak to even if he tried, but Old Brama was having none of it.

At that point, how could she stop a C-Grade existence who wanted to go on a rampage?

The sound of her own breathing pulsed in her ears, her heartbeat wanting to rip out a path through her ribs and chest.

Standing in her Unitaur form, her tail continuously twitched, her back hooves lifting and falling, and then lifting again in a continuous motion.

Everything just felt… it was just like there was some odd finality to it all, like they had run to the end of the road.

There was a shift in the atmosphere as Sylas suddenly coughed again. Half of his body was a mass of red, almost like the flesh of a newly born back. His muscles seemed to have greatly atrophied and were struggling to regain their previous fullness.

His stomach growled and he failed to stand to his feet, falling down to a knee.

Even after all those injuries, Palms of Fate didn’t activate. It was clear to Sylas by now that the threshold shifted for the Title depending on the world he was on.

It was only after he gained the favor of the Level 30 Bazaar world that it activated back then, and just now he had lost half of his body but it refused to trigger.

‘No… it should be related to my Will too. It takes a comprehensive evaluation of my state, and my Will wasn’t drained enough for it to take action…’

There felt like there were more mysteries to it as well, but it would be hard to tease them all apart.

“Esteemed Thryskai, I’m not sure what it is you want from my guild, but I can say that helping this man isn’t in your best interests,” Zayreus spoke out, wiping blood from his lips as he picked himself up.

“Oh?” The Thryskai looked over with a smile. “And why would that be?”

“Not long ago, this man called Thryskai cowards. He has a particular distaste for your mighty Race.”

The Thryskai tilted his head. “Mm… You’re not lying. Interesting.”

Zayreus shook his head firmly. “I wouldn’t lie at a time like this.”

With a shift to his gaze, the Thryskai’s aura landed on Sylas.

Sylas had already been struggling enough to stand in the first place. The sudden shift made him almost faceplant, the one good arm he had left being the only reason he was able to avoid such a fate.

Even so, he shrugged off the pressure soon enough, slowly beginning to stand once again.

“Do you have anything to say?” the Thryskai asked more curiously than anything else.

Sylas looked completely out of place. Other than his Scorned Wraps, he found himself completely naked… again. At this point, he wanted to join an organization just so that he could finally find clothes that didn’t implode after every battle.

His brain felt a bit languid at the moment, his body shuddering under the strain of standing to his feet, but his gaze remained calm and steady.

“Well, aren’t you?” Sylas asked.

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