Genetic Ascension

Chapter 1906: Humiliation

Sylas had already begun to walk out from the crowd of 713th Emperors when they showed. Now, he stood easily a few hundred meters from either group, basking in a no man's land that left him facing the brunt of their thousands of Wills all on his own.

From Cheetahs to Ravens to Lizards to Doves, dozens of different Lineages, each one with their own Pride, faced off against him.

Sylas' brows remained relaxed, his eyes almost dim and unfocused as though he were looking right through them. And then he looked back at the 713th Cycle of Emperors.

They seemed caught between not knowing what to do and feeling proud that their disciples had stepped forward like this. They didn't seem to actually consider whether or not these disciples of theirs could do anything.

Sylas looked back, and one of them had already surged forward.

Too furious for words, a familiar Lizard Emperor couldn't hold back anymore.

As she rocketed through the air, a Spirit roaring out of her, scales of green and grey coated her body. In a flashing instant, her Emperor Armor formed atop it, her already large and looming body increasing to a size even greater than before.

Her fist appeared in front of Sylas in a blink.

BOOM.

Sylas stood there, his hands in his pockets, the fist completely frozen a single inch from his nose.

Wind blew his hair back, but the Emperor Armor creaked and then shattered to pieces.

The Lizard Emperor's power was snuffed out.

Chi.

A Spatial Rune fluttered by, and blood spurted into the air.

Sylas walked forward as though he had phased through her body, but in reality, he formed a portal right through her body as though he couldn't be bothered to walk around her at all.

She fell to her knees after he passed by, her inner organs completely turned to minced meat. She hadn't even managed to get a single hit in.

Was this really... an E-tier?

Sylas wasn't touched by even a single droplet of blood. He never took his hands out of his pockets. He never even seemed to look at the woman directly.

All the rage she had been building up, all of the indignation and fury—it was all worthless in that moment.

Sylas didn't even pause after killing her, as though he didn't care about retaliation.

The other youths froze. They couldn't believe it.

And then came the roars. As agitated as they had been before, they reached a fever pitch now.

If they had resolved to die and face the consequences, how could they back down now?

They couldn't.

They wouldn't.

"TOGETHER!" one of them roared.

Sylas took a step, and a force rippled outward.

BANG.

One fell flat first, his head slamming into the earth so hard his skull cracked.

BANG.

A second fell by his side, his weapon angling awkwardly and piercing straight through his own stomach a moment later.

BANG.

A third fell.

BANG.

A fourth.

Sylas only kept walking forward, his steps even. By the time he formed it to the first of the fallen disciples, every single one of them had their faces firmly planted into the earth.

He raised a foot and stepped onto the head of one. Not bothering to change direction, they could only lie there, quite literally becoming his stepping stones forward.

The hearts of the Emperors went ice cold, and Fanelei could only shake her head.

This sort of humiliation was something only those with the strongest Wills could ever endure. Many of them would end up broken after today, even if they lived, never able to raise their heads again.

Sylas never even looked at any one of them directly. He used his telekinesis and nothing else.

There wasn't a drop of Comprehension, no Aether, and even the Rune he had used earlier was just an F-tier Rune. He didn't even care to use Runes at his own level to deal with them at all.

Sylas walked past them, stepping off the last of the disciples and moving toward the temple itself.

But then he came to a sudden pause and lifted his eyes.

Sitting cross-legged right there was Maldrith. He seemed entirely focused on the task at hand—and he had to be. Without him, everything would crumble.

The hearts of the Emperors constricted, but Sylas didn't do anything. He just stared for a moment as though he were trying to memorize something.

And then he turned toward the stairs and walked forward.

Could he have taken Maldrith's head right there? Maybe not. The body of even an unprepared Legend was probably not something he could cut through even if he wanted to.

However, it didn't matter. He needed Maldrith alive to keep the suppression of the temple at an appropriate level. Otherwise, Sylas was fairly sure that only the best Demi-God talents could ever climb it.

And...

Sylas preferred to take Maldrith's head himself one day.

Finally, Sylas came to a stop at the first stair, looking up at the planet-sized temple with eyes that reflected the gold as though he had always meant to stand here.

When Sylas came here, he knew that the Emperor Sanctum wouldn't just be sitting on their hands. No organization that had made it this far would ever so easily resign to its fate.

When he figured that out, he knew there would be an opportunity to take advantage of. It was just a question of whether he wanted it or not.

He had two choices before him: either to destroy the Sanctum outright, right here and now, or give them a chance.

The actions of the 713th Scorpion Emperor had sealed his fate. He thought he was clever, but he had no idea that Sylas' understanding of the world went beyond raw numbers and siphoned information.

He could read people far better than they could fathom.

Now, it was just a matter of when and how.

He raised his foot, and all of the Emperors held their breath.

They all hoped for a single thing.

That Sylas would die the moment his foot pressed down.