Genetic Ascension

Chapter 2239 - 17 Minutes [Bonus]

[Bonus thanks to Eeshoo <3]

Sylas' gaze glowed, a pulsing green light coming from them. His jacket, a smooth brown one with a soft suede finish, rippled in the air, his hair dancing along with it.

One after another, the hairs were coated in a thin emerald sheen. Sylas' mind split endlessly, from two to four, then from four to eight. The splits only accelerated further with every passing instant until he was dwarfing numbers that formed any sort of sense.

And he did it with such complete ease that the world whined around him, the heft and weight of his presence alone multiplying well beyond what his stature should have reflected.

In another blink, every hair was coated, floated through the air in a beautiful array of floating, fine strands. Each of them shimmered like true emerald, the world bending to their whims.

Sylas' gaze flashed and the fine strands began to twist. Every one of them became a perfect representation of the strokes that had played out before.

They layered over one another, the emerald glows on them strengthening and paling to mimic the contract he had seen earlier.

And then, they pressed forward and onto the enormous canvas.

Chi.

Sylas' Will pulsed.

He remembered when he used to struggle just to split his mind two ways. He barely raised his Wisdom enough, back then, to get to three. His small little kunai fluttering around him and slicing his enemies apart.

The Rune Goddess who was responsible for this inheritance was very wrong. The reason Sylas' Will looked so wild and uncontrolled wasn't because he lacked the Charisma to control it.

It was because he didn't want to waste the Wisdom to do so, nor did he care to exhibit control over his Will in the first place.

He was Sylas Grimblade, his momentum was one that should be etched into the world itself.

Why would he restrain himself for the sake of the face of others.

Chi.

The canvas shook and a glow of resplendent light spilled forward in all directions, a perfect reflection of the image that had played out earlier taking shape. The only difference was that it was tinged with green.

One might think this made Sylas less accurate, but that was far from the case. This was a challenge of shape and repetition, one of visual acuity and spatial awareness… It was not a color matching test.

And even if it was…

The glow of Sylas' Will slowly faded, and left in its wake was a powerful, surging picture that seemed to have its own weight and presence.

The mountains loomed tall, the rivers raged by, the grass swayed.

24 hours? It only took Sylas the length of time necessary to multiply his Will that many times.

17 minutes.

The pupils of the illusory woman trembled. She stared at the canvas, unblinking.

Moments ago, she had been watching Vaelith's. There was a light smile on her face as she watched.

Vaelith had started just as quickly as Sylas had. The difference was that she started to use her brush directly, her control so perfect one would have thought the brush was formed of one large hair instead of an uncountable number of smaller ones.

She had yet to make a mistake, and every replication had been perfect. It wouldn't be until much later, from the illusory woman's estimation, that Vaelith might slip up.

It was simply impossible for a child to maintain this level of focus for as long as would be needed, and even a machine would slip up from time to time.

At this rate and pace, she believed that Vaelith would likely end somewhere around 97% accuracy. Considering the number of strokes necessary, this was a staggering success rate.

The gap between her and Sylas should be substantial—.

And it was upon having that thought that the woman froze.

The echo of rolling waves of Will extended her, and when she looked over, it felt like the scent of fresh, rushing water filled her nose, like the sun was beaming down from above and like the grandiose aura of looming mountains were making her feel small and insignificant.

Sylas… was already done.

Vaelith was in too focused a state to notice. She hadn't even known that the woman was watching her in the first place. To her credit, even now she was lost in her own world, diligently completing one stroke after another.

At this rate, it would take her around 7 or so hours to finish.

She had not a single clue that she had long since been crushed.

The woman's gaze fell on Sylas, but the latter's eyes were closed. He didn't look to her for vindication, he didn't speak words about her obvious lack of judgment, he simply didn't feel the need to.

Since he was forced to be here, he would win. That was the start and finish of it for him. Nothing else was relevant.

As he had said… he was interested in his inheritance not because he thought it was just so impossible to grasp, but because the insights that came from turning something so simple into something so powerful was exactly what he needed.

If something like the proper application of shapes and geometry alone could allow this… if flames could learn to combust anything from the very same simple foundation… Then what could space alone do?

What could they do together?

Sylas' thoughts were rolling, how could he focus on others? With every extra moment Vaelith took, his own paths were being slowly edged out as he carved a new way for them.

Fuzzy concepts were becoming more defined.

'A horseshoe… simplicity… death…'

The meaningless words buzzed around in his head. His eyes remained closed, his breathing even. The world faded away, his thoughts becoming deeper and more incomprehensible.

The time ticked by, but he didn't seem to notice until there was a surge that made him open his eyes.

Sylas looked ahead and found that Vaelith had finally finished.