Genetic Ascension

Israeal appeared, stepping out of his vessel in much the same way he had stood over Planet Hall. There was a calmness about him that had always been there, and though he gave Zoryx a glance, he didn’t say much of anything else.

Deep within the Petals of the Seeing Thorn ship, Matriarch Valeria was reacting to this with a frown. Though it was hard to tell.

Compared to the voluminous woman she had been before, she seemed to have shriveled up like a prune today. Her body hunched over, her skin having grown considerably paler. She sat in an advanced wheelchair of some sort that completely swallowed up the half of her body beneath her waist in support structures that just barely managed to keep her upright.

However, aside from the fact she truly seemed to be a walking—or rather, rolling—zombie, if one paid attention to her expressions alone, adjusting for the new wrinkles, it would be hard to tell that she was taking this very hard.

In fact, her frown right now had little to do with her situation and everything to do with the new variable that had just been thrown into their plans.

For obvious reasons, the C-Grade sent to oversee her case couldn’t be here. That would be overstepping the bounds of the rules by quite a substantial margin. Instead, Matriarch Valeria was overseeing things once more.

Her daughter was down there, carrying with her more talent than she had since her birth. This was their one chance to ascend, but now there was this unknown Thryskai that had suddenly appeared—and he clearly didn’t fear Zoryx. It was obvious where this was going…

‘No, it can’t be that simple. Even if the Thryskai is young and weak enough that the system won’t react foully, that doesn’t mean that he can just do as he pleases.’

As though to confirm this, a beam of light came from the Trakar ship, a powerful pulse of concentrated Aether that ripped through everything and appeared before the Thryskai in an instant.

Israeal didn’t seem to care, but it all also happened so fast that it was hard to tell if he really didn’t—or if it was just the fact that he couldn’t react to such speed in the first place.

However…

The beam swept over him, its red light slowly closing like the ties of a zip bag, vanishing into the air before blinking out of existence.

But there Israeal was, still on his vessel, still standing there, just waiting.

Patriarch Dazeth stood on the bow of the ship, protected by floor-to-ceiling glass as he looked out. His eyes couldn’t help but narrow as well, his enormous frame bulging with muscles that tightened as he fell into his thoughts.

The Versus Dungeon did have an entry limit… but that entry limit was five. It was too hard to find a Dungeon that met all of their parameters and had the exact entry limit they wanted at the same time.

Technically speaking, Israeal could almost certainly enter. It was possible for the three to gang up on him to ensure that he didn’t, because Dungeons had Treasure limits as well—or else it would be useless to even use them as tests of the system to begin with.

But would Zoryx participate?

And if it was just Soryntha and Thalrik that took action, how much effort would it take? Would either of the two be willing to even trust each other just yet? Or what about their trump cards—would they be willing to expose them?

Suddenly, it became a question of whether it was worth it or not to try and eliminate this boy.

On the outside, his vessel would protect him from powerhouses, and on the inside… he was obviously confident that he would be able to protect himself.

There was also the elephant in the room. There was no way that Zoryx and the Thryskai hadn’t known about this ahead of time. But they never said a word during their negotiations, and they obviously had no problem with the five-entry-limit Versus Dungeon either.

Israeal didn’t acknowledge anyone, nor did he leave any sneering remarks. He just stood there, waiting for the Dungeon to open.

Or maybe… he was waiting for another change.

One that would inevitably come as the time drew closer.

The Dungeon trembled, a protective barrier pulsing out that protected the jade green moon it resided on. With a step, Israeal was already falling to the moon, landing on it lightly without a word. At this point, there was no point in sending another beam. Not to mention the fact he was too close to their geniuses now, but the Dungeon had already begun to protect them.

What no one expected was that there would be yet another variable to trigger right then.

There was a flash and a new figure showed up.

Blond hair, blue eyes, a somewhat handsome countenance, and a face etched in determination and coldness. He held a staff in one hand, a shield resting on his back. There was a band of gold across his forehead, and he was adorned from head to toe in a polished white armor that looked almost too beautiful to be worn into battle.

But the more you stared at this armor, the more you saw its worn edges, the blades that ran across its surface, the polishing it had undergone in an attempt to hide them.

The armor didn’t creak as the young man moved—it was almost like a well-oiled machine, moving with the fluidity of an assassin’s robes, as contradictory as that sounded.

Jala Hall.

The eyes of Israeal finally showed some change as he looked over. He wasn’t 100% certain at first, but there was a certain aura the Halls carried with one another.

“You are Jala Hall.”

The others were all confused. Where had this human come from? And how had he managed to get past all of their defenses?

They didn’t even have much time to think before Israeal attacked.

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