Genetic Ascension

Chapter 2207: Roar

Sylas walked out of the village, a crushed head in the grip of his claws. He walked forward, dragging the corpse along for a moment as it whittled away into ashy motes that fell to the earth.

The power running through his veins now was unlike anything he had ever experienced, even in his Demonic Form. Though, he was sure that if he activated said form now, the power he had now would only multiply further.

He also realized the kind of strength he would be able to have on Earth if he used this method.

By using his telekinetic martial arts as a bridge to his Genes, the Aether the world around him introduced was able to not only grant him control over an external energy, but an internal one as well.

This supercharged Sylas' strength directly.

The difference between just being able to enhance one's use of atmospheric Aether versus directly improving the body itself was huge. And being able to do both essentially made Sylas the most powerful person on this planet.

There didn't feel like it would be possible for there to be a challenge at all.

He wiped out everyone and everything he came across with little care. And the more he killed, the more faded and distant those eyes seemed to become, and the calmer he was as a result.

However, the Death Aether was also taking a huge toll on him. It wasn't his own Aether, and at this rate, it was eating away at his body.

This was certainly not the best way to use Death Aether, if he was going to use it at all. It was practically like using alcohol to light a fire. Sure, it would work, but there wouldn't be a sustained burn.

It was more likely to shred itself to pieces first and then fall away to silence rapidly afterward.

But that didn't stop Sylas from going from village to village.

No one at all could seem to stop him, and he moved across the world unhindered. Using Spatial Runes should have actually been much harder on the Demi-God Plane, but with how much the world here wanted to help him get revenge, he practically felt like he could just take a step and move from continent to continent on little more than a careless whim.

So he killed.

And killed.

And killed.

He was rarely obstructed, and those that did manage to slow him down a small measure quickly found themselves inundated by a man who not only had the raw power to back up his tirade, but also the skill.

The more Death Runes spent time within Sylas' body, the more he comprehended and understood them, and the more he could draw their Runes as well.

He could feel their emotion, the desire to watch everything wilt and die and fall away. But he could also sense a persistence from them, a willingness to push and push and push until it got all the way to the other side… Sylas could just barely squint and see what that other side was, he could cover his eyes with a palm and allow a small sliver of it through.

He felt like he was on the verge of a breakthrough in understanding, but he couldn't quite take that step.

And what was truly devastating about that was that he knew what the problem was.

He was holding onto the death too firmly, too strongly. He didn't want to pull himself out of the cycle. His annoyance had taken over.

So he killed.

And killed.

And killed.

Sylas didn't even feel bad about it. Under normal circumstances, he wouldn't have felt bad in the first place. When he took action, he did so for the sake of what made the most sense.

Sylas wasn't the sort to "pull the roots." He wasn't killing man, woman, and child because he was afraid of someone growing and taking revenge against him.

As far as he was concerned, there was zero chance of that happening.

Nobody he had surpassed, or was already ahead of, could ever catch up to him.

Though one might say he was a little concerned about his family, this wasn't the truth either.

He was killing them purely because that was what the world wanted in exchange for its services. It had so much hatred, so much animosity for these people that if Sylas didn't help it, it might very well turn on Sylas.

And the difference between Sylas and these people was that he had already let the world into his body.

But even then, that was only part of the truth. Sylas would never allow some external source to dictate his actions. If he wanted to break free of the influence of this world, he could do so.

He was killing… because it would return his Nosphaleen to him.

He was killing because these people were anchors holding her down.

He was killing because an odd, symbiotic relationship had formed between the woman he had let down and these people here.

And between his own people, his own interests, his own wants and cares… and others…

Sylas would eternally pick himself.

He raised his head to the skies, scales of white covering over him as his comprehension of Death seemed to reach its very apex. He had never been given such a good teacher before, and there was nothing better at teaching Runes than a world like this one.

It only took minutes, but Sylas' comprehension of Death had become so strong he could have built an entirely new Rune Path from it… Such was his talent.

But Sylas didn't have real interest in doing such a thing right now.

All he wanted to do…

Was roar.

The white scales on his body solidified and the Will of the Hollow Wing seemed to whimper beneath the pressure.

And then Sylas roared, a roar that pealed across the planet like a sweeping fog of black, covering everything in its path until it was crushed beneath its heel.

Hollow Call.