Genetic Ascension

Sylas’ eyes opened to a familiar world. Though, there was a distinct lack of a floating eye this time.

That much, at least, was by design.

Truthfully, Sylas should use Szorn more than he did, especially after he learned just how useful it could be. But he still had some reservations about this world and what all of this was about.

He wasn’t naive. In fact, he was the furthest thing from it.

The question of how this Scorpion Warlord had even managed to infiltrate Earth in the first place, and why they were here, loomed over him.

That was the elephant in the room, and it was also the reason why Sylas wasn’t too eager to use the badge burning a hole in his Madness Key.

However… the response of Arcane Madness made Sylas far more open to accepting this possibility.

For some reason, he found himself trusting Arcane Madness. He wasn’t the type of person to feel that way so easily, but he also believed that he had a very good grasp of people.

Well… it also helped that he had a Legendary Path Profession at his beck and call that could intimately feel every aspect of Arcane Madness’ thoughts. Surely, that played a role.

The reason, though, was quite simple. From the way Arcane Madness spoke about this Scorpion Warlord lineage, Sylas could feel its… dismissal.

This meant one very important thing.

The potential within Sylas right now was beyond what Gralith could likely imagine. In that case, even if there was danger to be had, there was also a good chance he’d outgrow it in due time.

In such a case, given how pressing the current situation was, it was only natural that he take this risk.

"You’ve returned." Gralith looked up with the very same calm, limpid eyes. But Sylas could feel something else in them.

Amusement, maybe?

It was hard to read, and even more difficult to fathom why he would feel amusement—for most people, anyway.

Sylas could understand why this man was amused immediately.

Gralith had told him to return soon. But in the end, though it hadn’t been all that long, it was still more than a month. He would have certainly regained the ability to practice long before that, yet he didn’t return.

To someone like Gralith, who had already seen so much of the world, he could guess the thoughts of this disciple of his quite easily. The fact that Szorn wasn’t here only made it more obvious.

Sylas didn’t trust him.

That made Gralith amused, but it was already hard enough for Sylas to pick up on the amusement to begin with, so he couldn’t quite tell if this was because Gralith found his attempts to be pathetic, or if it was the case that he found Sylas… "adorable."

The fact the second possibility existed didn’t quite sit well with Sylas, but, once again, he wasn’t a fool. If Gralith was feeling the latter way, that would actually be a good thing for him.

"Since you’ve taken so long to come again, I assume that you’ve made quite some progress? Show me."

Gralith’s tone was equally as flat as usual… almost. Sylas could once again feel that hint of amusement.

If Gralith’s other disciples knew what Sylas was thinking, they might fall from their beds in the dead of night.

Maybe it took a person who often showed so little emotion to spot the difference, but a third party wouldn’t be able to feel what Sylas was feeling at all. In fact, they would feel quite some pressure from Gralith’s existence right now, finding it difficult to even stand properly.

Sylas looked down at the brush and paper before him. Gralith sat across from him as usual, but Sylas hadn’t quite sat down yet. This didn’t make Gralith angry; instead, the amusement only seemed to increase.

"In your world, what does the weight of the word disciple mean?" Sylas asked.

"An interesting question," Gralith replied, not missing a beat despite the suddenness of the question. "In some cultures, as I would assume from yours, it’s quite fleeting. I believe you’ve asked me such a clarifying question before, no? The fact you’re asking again despite your intelligence means to me that you want something different from the answer I gave you before.

"But if I tell you the truth, you would hardly believe me. So now I’m wondering why you bothered to ask this time around. A part of me believes you aren’t as stable as the first time we met, but another part rejects the premise entirely. In fact, my gut tells me that you’re far sturdier in yourself now than you were then."

"And what would the truth be?" Sylas asked without dealing with the fluff of the answer.

"To a master, a disciple is an adopted child."

Sylas fell into silence, looking at the man before him.

"See?" Gralith said calmly. "You don’t believe me."

"Because you had no feel for my character before you made such an important decision."

"Does a parent hand-select their child?"

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"No. They also don’t get to decide a child’s talent, either."

There was a flash in Gralith’s eyes, and for the faintest moment, Sylas thought he saw the curl of his lip. It was a subtle curl that he was quite familiar with because it was one he did with Cassarae all the time, and she, along with his little sister, seemed the only two capable of detecting it.

"Well, isn’t that why I said adopted? What foster parent doesn’t weed through dozens of applications?"

This time, there was a flicker in Sylas’ own eyes, but before he could speak, Gralith beat him to it.

"Also, I think you’ve underestimated me quite a bit, Sylas."

A strong wave spread out, so much so that Sylas felt as though his Will was about to collapse into a heap of ash.

"You entered this space with your Will alone. It’s quite arrogant of you to believe that I don’t know everything about you that I need to already."

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