Genetic Ascension

Chapter 1335: Megaphone [Bonus]

[Bonus thanks to Chronotitan <3]

When Gralith and Sylas appeared in the Sanctum’s hub, there was an odd scent in the air. It was almost like blood, and yet not quite that—almost as though it was ready and waiting to explode forth at any moment now, the tension in countless hearts accumulating across the air as their beasts united.

Sylas swept a gaze over things and spotted Old Brama and the others in the far-off distance. They seemed to have been adjusting to life here for quite a while, though Sylas felt that he should probably put a little bit more effort into helping them.

It wasn’t as though much time had passed, though. It had only been a few days. It just felt like far longer because of the sheer number of things that had happened. He hadn’t even gotten a chance to go to the skill libraries of the Sanctum yet.

’I should wrap things up here quickly so I can do that,’ he thought to himself.

’I would focus if I were you.’ The little girl’s voice echoed in his ears.

Sylas ignored her, but his eyes did finally land on what should be the main culprits of all of this. Or, rather, the ship that likely held them.

Compared to the usually smooth, silver vessels of the Sanctum, this ship was an almost... icy black. It was a deep black that radiated both a chill and just the slightest blue color.

Just sitting there, it was sucking in a large amount of Aether from the surroundings.

Sylas still wasn’t very used to this new world he had stepped into, but it didn’t take a genius to know that this wasn’t something one with good etiquette would do. It felt like all the Aether for hundreds of miles had been commandeered to refuel this one ship.

In fact, at this sort of pace, if the ship decided to be aggressive enough, it could probably drain the entire planet dry, setting it back for decades. In the worst case, it might even be able to drain the World Core entirely, directly killing the planet and any chance it had of producing Aether or connecting with the system in the future.

This left Sylas a bit surprised. He didn’t know such a thing was possible. But what intrigued him more than that was the fact that this was the work of a Rune Master.

Someone had to draw the blueprints for that ship.

’Interesting...’

Sylas looked toward the other places, but there didn’t seem to be anything else of note. It was as though their enemies hadn’t even appeared yet.

That was when Sylas understood. The Sanctum was doing this on purpose. They didn’t want to have a formal greeting for these people, and that was probably why Gralith had so casually asked him if he wanted to come.

They were being disrespectful, so the Sanctum would likewise be more hard-nosed.

But... this was odd to Sylas as well. Was the Sanctum really ready to go up against these sorts of powers? Unless...

’Beast Warlord Sanctum 073...’

When he had this thought, Sylas slowly nodded to himself. In all likelihood, the Sanctum wasn’t as easy of a target as they seemed to be either.

Gralith seemed to be waiting for something, but Sylas had already understood about 90% of the situation. So he looked over toward Alex. Once again, the man didn’t seem to disappoint and even grinned, rubbing his hands.

Old Brama grabbed onto Alex’s shoulder, nearly ripping him back.

"I’ll handle this," Sylas said to Gralith.

Gralith looked toward Sylas for a moment, and then he nodded. In a flash, he was gone as though he had never been there.

Seeing this, Old Brama sighed to himself. This was really going to be the end of him.

"Old man, don’t ruin my fun. You won’t teach me your Crafting skills, and now you’re trying to steal my shine. This is cruel and unusual punishment."

"This isn’t a normal conflict, boy. You’ll lose your life before you know what happened."

As Old Brama spoke, he held out a hand and a bracelet on his wrist began to fold out into a complex jigsaw puzzle of mechanical parts. Eventually, it formed the vague outline of a megaphone with pipes and wires bursting out of it.

Sylas stepped into the air and Old Brama followed after him, a half step behind and to the side. The two matched the cadence of their steps, the approach toward the ship causing a large suction force on their bodies.

It felt as though all the Aether in their bodies would be sucked dry. If any normal individual stepped foot into such a range, they would find themselves dead and dying before they even touched base.

And yet, Sylas was like an impenetrable fortress. His Aether was so perfectly rooted to his body that it hardly budged. As though a calm lake, it rested in his body, circulating only to the gentle cadence of his breath and nothing more.

Old Brama looked at Sylas from time to time as though to gauge his state, his surprise only increasing with every step they took. How could an F-tier possibly withstand these sorts of suction forces? He had been prepping to pull Sylas back at any moment now, but it didn’t seem necessary at all.

Instead, he turned his attention to focusing on whether they might be shot out of the air or not. But as he was distracted by this, he was even more taken aback when Sylas just...

Landed on top of the ship.

Before Old Brama could say anything, though...

Tssss.

The hull of the ship slowly opened and a figure made his way out. Staring into his eyes felt like looking into a world of mirrors—reflective colors of countless shades looked back.

The Leava Clan.

Sylas seemed to look right through him, his gaze pretending as though the man wasn’t there at all.

"Kill him."

Old Brama blinked and inwardly groaned, but his megaphone turned into the barrel of a gun. He pointed it forward and fired.

A fiery line of blazing light pierced forward, charring right through the man’s chest.