Genetic Ascension

Chapter 2077: Finished

There was a heavy silence that fell as Sylas sat there. He closed his eyes as though there wasn't an enemy before him at all. It was like he was trying to decipher something that was beyond his abilities to grasp in the interim.

Sylas' brain was that of a Demi-God, his Will reflected that, his thinking speed, his intelligence, his deductive abilities were far beyond what they had been just months ago. It was the sort of gap that couldn't be closed with just Will alone.

And yet, he felt that if he fought this creature the normal way, he would lose.

Maybe not on the first step, maybe not the second, maybe not even the third, but the height of the stairs proceeded too far.

Sylas had come to understand that the appearance of this creature on the first step necessitated that it would appear on the second, and then the third as well. In fact, if he was correct, this puppet was almost certainly connected to the others that would appear.

They would endlessly feed off of one another.

This was the real reason why the tortoise had remarked whoever defeated the last of them would have an advantage. Whoever was capable of such a thing might very well be the one that had fought the least.

But Sylas wasn't a fool. He was the first to be chosen, and the people behind him all understood more about these puppets than he did. On top of that, there was vote to decide who would battle.

The tortoise had phrased the rules as though to say that only someone who wanted to replace a fighter could be chosen. But when Sylas recalled its exact words, there had been nothing that said this had to be the case.

At that point, the problem Sylas was facing was obvious.

Like he had said, everyone behind him understood more about these puppets than he did, and he could practically feel the fear radiating off of all of them. In that case, what they would do was obvious.

When Sylas finished his turn-assuming he succeeded-they would simply vote for him to continue. This would repeat again and again until Sylas fell.

The tortoise had been warning them from the very beginning. The only way to even have a chance at reaching the top of the stairs was to be the last. Because by then, the puppets would be inundated with data about those that had already died and only you would have the path forward.

Sylas was the most unlucky, the one to be granted the "privilege" of being first. In a situation like this one, he was well and truly screwed. No matter what, the puppet would gain a blueprint for him.

He was stuck here, and his only way out would be the kindness of others.

Maybe Juxi and Deuvuo would have a reason to vote in Alpine next. But setting aside the fact that Juxi and Deuvuo weren't exactly allies themselves, Sylas was still an enemy of theirs. When you looked at things this way, Sylas was facing a situation where even those with the most incentive to have him live wouldn't vote with him.

Let alone Alpine and the Glutton who couldn't wait to see him dead.

From Juxi and Deuvuo's perspective, all they had to do was keep voting together. Maybe when Sylas died, the Glutton would realize his plight and start voting along with Alpine, but even in the case that happened, they would still be in the driver's seat.

They might not be real allies, but they were certainly closer than Alpine and the Glutton were. So long as they preyed on that weakness, they would be at an advantage.

No matter how you split it, the only one without a life raft right now was Sylas. And after Sylas died, there was a 50/50 shot that either the Glutton or Alpine would be picked. If that happened, they could just rinse and repeat the strategy.

The best part? Whoever was on the mountain had the most incentive to make it as far as possible.

The others were only slowly starting to figure out all of these intricate details as Sylas stood there, but Sylas had realized the problem he was facing instantly.

And that was exactly why he was planning everything out.

Every single little detail. Nothing would escape him.

When Sylas' eyes did open again, and he exhaled a mouthful of turbid air, he had already come to the conclusion he sought after.

He stood, a steady look in the depths of his eyes.

Little had changed, little would ever change. He had wanted a challenge, did he not?

He might as well let the First Race know whom they were making enemies of.

Sylas reached forward, his finger pressing against the forehead of the puppet. Or, rather, it looked as such. In reality, Sylas' finger was hovering mere millimeters before it.

Chi.

The skull of the creature cracked.

BANG.

Shards of glass flew in every direction.

The eyes of Sylas' spectators twitched. It wasn't that they felt his success was so great, but instead they felt like he was showing too much.

The puppets of the Zeus Clan had been feared for a very long time, and many had tried to find the best way to deal with them. They certainly wouldn't be the first.

Everyone agreed on the method. Slow and methodical.

The obvious answer to how to deal with the puppets was to try and launch a swift and decisive strike. But the problem was that the puppets weren't fools.

It would only show this passiveness if you showed it pacifism. The moment it realized you were a threat, it would use your single strike to adjust its foundation. It would meet your aggression with its own aggression at that point.

However, if you took a slow and methodical approach, it would assume it was a spar. Even if you killed it, it might think that it was a mistake so long as you hid your intent well.

The longer you could keep that up, the longer you would last.

All Sylas had done was guarantee that the next puppet would come out with the same level of aggression and match the power output he had just put out.

He was finished.