Genetic Ascension

Chapter 1320: Help

Torin felt his breathing hitch in his throat. His survival instinct seemed to kick in all on its own, his Will flourishing and his body pulsing with radiant might that sent the other F-tiers around him sprawling.

The powerful aura of a rampaging Ape filled the skies, the howls that formed Torin’s fear taking physical form and shape as though he was being spurred on by something.

Madness.

Sylas was looking right at him, threads of crimson streaming through his eyes as he unleashed his Runeweaver Eyes.

Ever since Sylas got his hands on this Profession, he had learned to suppress it. His Will was too powerful, and with his eyes becoming a new gateway to apply it to the world, its potency became too strong on a day-to-day basis.

Even while it was suppressed, Old Brama thought him to be a Charysm. But now... he was unleashing it on purpose.

As though the chains of his eyes had broken free completely, his Will spilled out into the world in a torrent of his own rage and fury, suppressed emotions from these last several days rampaging out like stampeding war horses.

And the one that felt the brunt of it was none other than Torin.

Sylas had already seen the Ape Warlord Armor in lesser forms twice now, and he could also feel that he was running out of time. His temper had snapped at him when he saw Morvok and he was taking action before he even truly felt it.

This didn’t surprise him. He was usually very good at controlling his emotions, but he was also very much human. Having already suppressed his Demonic Will once, there was no way it was going to continue to allow him to do so. If he tried to suppress it again, it would lash out.

His Demonic Will hadn’t bothered him since he handled the Grimblades and Lucius, and of course Ulrik and the situation with the Level 30 Bazaar. But that was also because nothing had infuriated him to this extent since then.

Unfortunately, that left him in an awkward position. Could he still force Torin to fight? Sure. But that wouldn’t be nearly as productive as this.

So, instead... he chose a completely different response.

He wanted to see what Torin was capable of, but there was no way he would dare to fight now, and there was also no way that Sylas planned on explaining that he only defeated Morvok because of a trio of Legendary Professions he had.

No one needed to know that. He was fine if they speculated, but that truth would be his and his alone.

The underlying philosophy of the Ape Warlord Armor was so tied to the berserk state that Sylas felt that if he could forcefully induce it—though he would probably be doing Torin a favor if he could pull himself out of it—Sylas didn’t care.

What he wanted to see was this Armor...

This Armor in its absolute strongest state.

In that moment, Torin actually broke through. From an Armor drawn to Essence Mastery, he climbed up, touching the faintest edges of Vitality Mastery before firmly standing within it.

He drew his Armor in the state of absolute peril he felt, the primal urge deep within him bubbling forth in waves as his fists slammed down to the ground.

The maw of his helm opened wide, his roar filling the air.

He seemed to have pulled on every last shred of bravery he had in the depths of his soul, staring down Sylas before he erupted with speed.

In a single bound, his four limbs worked in unison, lasering through the air akin to a beam of crimson.

Sylas only reached out a palm. His shoulder shook as he snagged Torin’s neck out of the air, the latter’s maw snapping at him but unable to close in the last of the distance.

Looking him up and down, the weaving shades of green in Sylas’ eyes moved in relation to one another, pulsing and dancing until...

Chi.

Torin’s Armor collapsed.

All at once, Torin’s momentum fell, the waves of fatigue hitting him in a torrent.

Sylas let him drop to the ground, taking a glance at the shuddering Morvok. The latter was bleeding out even now, but he was very much alive, and would surely live through this ordeal.

Now... he had received what he wanted.

He turned and left.

Alex blinked when he saw this and then cleared his throat.

"Well, ladies and gentlemen, show’s over, it seems. If you’re grateful for this once-in-a-lifetime experience you’ve been able to partake in, please feel free to make a donation."

He pulled out a basket from who knows where.

"Don’t be stingy. There’s plenty of space. Come on, some of you C-tiers out there, I know you have quite a few D-tier Aether Stones burning a hole in your pockets you’ll never use anyway. Yes, yes. Right this way..."

**

Khan blinked. "You’re back already?"

"Yes."

That was the only word Sylas said as he returned to his hut and closed the door.

Khan blinked again. "Well... I hope that means you didn’t get into much trouble, then..."

He was hoping that this probably meant that Sylas hadn’t managed to find a way onto the Ape Sanctum, and that made sense. You couldn’t just leap from Sanctum to Sanctum just because you felt like it. Well, unless you were a true powerhouse, that is. But if Sylas was that, he probably wouldn’t have ended up in this situation in the first place.

’Maybe not,’ Khan thought to himself. Being a powerhouse in this place was, well... it didn’t mean much at all to those people, now did it?

There was another flash and Khan looked up to find that Gralith had returned.

"Oh, I sure am popular today. Look what the cat dragged in."

Gralith didn’t respond. His expression was just as unreadable as always, but there was something decidedly cold about his gaze.

"Has Sylas awoken?"

Khan was about to respond when both of their heads snapped toward Sylas’ hut. A rampaging aura was emitting from it, rippling out in violent waves.