Genetic Ascension

Chapter 1544 Lose?

Sylas was inevitably scolded by his mother, a canon event he could only take in mostly silence, mixed in with a few words of affirmation. As for Elara, she seemed to have already scurried off with her new toys before Isolde could hope to take them away.

In one part, Sylas could clearly feel that while this seemed to be playing out like a joke, his mother was truly distraught by this. The life she hoped to return to was only being torn further and further from them, and there was nothing that she, as a mother, could do in hopes of changing it.

But in another part... Sylas knew that this was a band-aid that had to be ripped off.

Quite frankly, for the same reasons Sylas didn't care for his children to be powerful or not, he didn't care if his family was or wasn't either.

Logically speaking, the more powerful they were, the better their chances at protecting themselves from threats. With the ways of this world, they were too weak, and unless he reached a truly untouchable point -a day that was still too far away for now-they would always be in danger.

However, this was a bit of a paradox.

If he wanted his family to be as powerful as they could be, they would have to inevitably put themselves in more danger, and that was unacceptable to him.

This was his little sister, his mother, his father, his grandfather, his wife, and her parents. He would give them anything they needed, whenever they needed it. If it was up to him, they wouldn't have to work a single day.

Cassarae and his grandfather were just especially stubborn, so there would be no stopping them unless he forcefully held them against their Will-something he had no intention of doing.

But the others?

What was the point of growing powerful if his family had to work just as hard as he did?

The thought came with an almost odd clarity to Sylas, a focus that wouldn't have been there unless he returned home.

Until now, every time he thought of power, he thought of it in terms of himself, in terms of how powerful he would be in the future, in terms of how he didn't want others to control him or his path forward.

But he had never explicitly stated that it was to protect those he cared for as well.

That thought had always been there, like when he scoffed at the idea of the galaxy saving Progenitor status for his firstborn. Why would he give his child such a burden when he could take it on himself? How talented or untalented his children were didn't matter in the slightest to him outside of their health and their future.

A thought that had always been there, and yet never quite explicitly understood until he stood across from the tear-stricken face of his mother.

Isolde probably didn't even notice that she was crying. Her voice was steady, her reasoning fair.

Elara was so young, she shouldn't have to see such things. She should be listening to teenage angst playlists and dreaming of her first love. She should be thinking about driving down a road for the first time and picking out a dress for homecoming.

How did dissecting corpses fit into that?

The tears began to fall from her eyes as though pulled out by grief she had yet to process or comprehend.

It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair that her little girl had to go through such things, that her son had to put his life on the line every day in a world she still couldn't even begin to understand.

Just this morning, she had tried to open her bedroom door, only to accidentally pull it off the hinges because of strength she didn't even know she had.

Staring at the mirror, she looked ten years younger for no reason-something that maybe should have made her happy, but only made her feel all the worse.

It was unnatural.

Everything was so very unnatural.

She had been bottling it up for so long, reprimanding her son about treating women better and trying to keep their home tidy for when he finally returned... never facing the fact that just because he did return didn't mean that it would change anything.

And now he was here, he was finally back, in one piece, just as handsome as she remembered her little boy being... almost as though she couldn't see his changes at all.

Yet it was just the same.

That same gut-sinking feeling, that same horrid sense of dread, that something terrible was coming, that they would never return to the life they had once had.

Sylas reached a thumb forward and wiped the tears from his mother's cheeks.

"You don't have to worry, Mother," he said calmly, looking at her intently. The ring of gold around his once purely emerald irises seemed to blaze with its own light, so strong and radiant it practically illuminated the room more than even the beaming sun. "When have you ever known me to lose?"

Isolde froze, her eyes flickering down to her son's palm. It was only now she seemed to notice her eyes had been practically leaking, soaking Sylas' palm through.

Her breathing hitched a bit as though a sob slumbering deep within her was threatening to pry its way back up. But she stabilized herself, quickly wiping at her face and standing tall.

She smiled. "You're right. My baby boy doesn't lose."

Sylas nodded, maybe almost a little too seriously.

Be strong.

It was something that he had known he had to chase from the very moment he stepped into this world.

But why?

It was all too obvious now. Not just to control his life, but to make sure those he cared for could control theirs.

[Madness (Legendary)] - Progenitor

[The Madness consumes you, but does not control you. Instead, it becomes your tool to both control yourself and others. You, while steeped in Madness, maintain your wits about you. Your enemies, though, are not so lucky.] [+10,000% Charisma]

[+10,000% Will]

[Arcane Madness Will]