Genetic Ascension

Chapter 1239: The Games



Chapter 1239: The Games

Sylas’ body remained intact.

The Duke’s pupils constricted into pinholes. This was clearly not the result he was expecting. And he expected Sylas’ next action even less. Or rather, he expected his daughter’s even less.

The Duchess reacted on Sylas’ behalf, a palm slamming out at mach speeds—so fast the clap of sound shattered the windows and sent blasts of chaos in all directions.

With almost too much ease, despite his surprise, the Duke caught his daughter’s wrist.

“How could you try that?!” the Duchess screeched.

Suddenly, between Sylas and the Duke was the Duchess, and the man lost his clear shot at Sylas. This was an opportunity even a fool wouldn’t miss, let alone Sylas himself.

“Speak your father’s true name,” Sylas said, but his palm had landed on the back of the Duchess at the same time, making them words the Duke simply didn’t hear. It was as though he was communicating through their Wills themselves.

“You—!” The Duke seemed to feel that something was off, but his daughter was already speaking.

“Zarvokyl Throskathar Ghorazaknaral Sanguara,” the Duchess replied on instinct.

The Duke froze, and Sylas acted, striking out with all the force he could muster right through the Duchess’ body. His claws ripped through her chest and into the Duke’s, *\[Chaotic Menace]* rippling out.

Blood Runes surged, and Sylas pulled power from the Duchess’ body. The irony was that he could only control these Runes because his impurities had weakened her, filling her once-perfect bloodline with the weakness of an F-Grade Race.

Because of that, rather than losing power after breaking through her body, Sylas only gained strength, his arm having formed the casing of a scorpion’s claw by the time it touched Zarvokyl Throskathar Ghorazaknaral Sanguara.

It was a gamble, however he had planned to do this the moment the Duke displayed his killing intent. Honestly, Sylas never expected that the Duke would suddenly choose to turn on him right this moment, but it wasn’t something he had dismissed outright as a possibility.

He knew of the weaknesses to his backstory, and he also knew that he would have a great advantage on the Golden Battlefield that some might not want him to have. But this was still a more aggressive approach than he was expecting.

Maybe, though… there was nothing too aggressive for Demons.

’Didn’t work.’

Sylas realized instantly. Let alone the Duke, even the Duchess’ life force wasn’t fading. He had ripped right through her heart and her father’s, but their Wills almost seemed entirely independent of their hearts.

’Vampires.’

The realization clicked for Sylas.

There was no way for him to have accounted for all of this—which of the legends were true, which weren’t. If he needed to find a stake or bury them beneath the sun or silver bullets.

He didn’t know. There was too much muddled here, and now there was a very real possibility that the Duchess might snap out of it.

He pulled his hand back and his aura flared.

When he acted, there was never any hesitation.

BANG!

The carriage burst apart at the seams, flashing lights coming from Sylas’ Runeweaver eyes as he crumbled the defensive formations keeping it together.

Suddenly, he found himself falling through the skies.

SHUUUUU!

Sylas’ pupils flickered.

An archer?

This surprised him even more. The Duke was extremely arrogant, but he had still had someone watch the situation to this extent? So much so that they were already prepared to fire an arrow?

Sylas took everything in with a single breath, his Legendary Temporal Delay Progenitor Flame Ability making the world slow to a crawl.

For once, he actually needed it.

The Demonic Serpentes had launched themselves into the skies, their bellies capable of interacting with the clouds in peculiar ways. They were actually not flying, but riding them.

Another memory triggered in Sylas’ head. Weren’t these the abilities of eastern dragons from another legend of Earth?

He threw the thought to the back of his mind, taking in everything else.

There were only two eight-eyed Serpentes Demons, but they carried a string of carriages as though medieval trains. The carriage Sylas had been in wasn’t one of the very first, but instead one of the very last.

He had found this peculiar because usually, those of high standing would be near the front. But considering it was a beast and not an engine pulling them along, it might actually be far more luxurious to be further away from it, considering the smells and noise, so he hadn’t thought much of it.

Now, it was causing him problems because this also meant that the destruction of his carriage only impacted the one and none of the others—almost meaning that everyone else was in perfect position to deal with him.

His advantage?

They were in the skies.

His disadvantage?

More than one Demon Race had wings and wouldn’t need a Fusion or telekinesis to replicate what he could do.

That didn’t even mention the fact he was outnumbered.

Then there were the actual immediate threats.

That arrow was fast and blood red, containing an odd power that seemed to want to pull him toward it using his own blood. It was definitely shot by another Sanguara, and one that was only a few ticks weaker than the Duke himself.

The Duchess seemed out of it, but the Duke didn’t seem fazed by his heart being torn to pieces. That made Sylas realize that the Duchess was probably more shocked and dealing with the cognitive dissonance of the man she tried to protect trying to kill her than actually out of it because she couldn’t fight.

The Duchess wasn’t stupid. She could tell that if Sylas thought that blow would kill her father, he also thought it would kill her—and did it anyway.

It seemed that the Sanguara weren’t just immune to such lethal strikes, but their combat prowess hardly suffered at all. If not for his True Name being spoken, the Duke would have long counterattacked.

’Okay.’

That was Sylas’ final thought as the world accelerated around him into real speed again and he plummeted through the clouds.

It seemed the games would begin now instead of at the battlefield. That was fine by him.


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