Genetic Ascension

Dresdun’s eyes opened wide. “Impossible!”

His disks were mediums through which he could calculate the mysteries of the world themselves. Telekinesis was just a projection of a person’s Will—how could it possibly match up to the Will of a world?

Trying to freeze his disks in the air with telekinesis alone would require—

A realization hit Dresdun as he felt his mind practically smoking out steam from the strain. Veins pulsed across his forehead, and in that moment, he had no choice but to turn his attention to a part of his mind he had always let run on autopilot.

Seeing the state of his Wisdom being drained continuously, he reached out to stop it, but he was still a step too late.

His Wisdom ran on empty and his eyes rolled to the back of his head. He collapsed right there, foaming at the mouth as his disks fell limply to the ground.

Sylas didn’t pay any attention to him, swiping out a hand and causing the disks to land in a neat pile on his palm.

The other members of the Enlore Race were shaken, racing to the side of their leader in hopes of waking him up, but completely failing to do so. It was the second strongest amongst them that realized what happened and hurriedly fed Dresdun a Wisdom Replenishing Elixir to stabilize his condition.

Even so, Dresdun likely wouldn’t awaken for another several minutes, and it would take even longer following that for him to return to peak condition.

Wary, the only woman and the second-in-command of the Enlores looked toward Sylas, feeling her heart beating almost entirely out of her chest.

She was even smaller than Dresdun and the other young man with her, standing at maybe three and a half feet tall, her head also quite large in proportion to her body. But her expressions were clear through her greyed skin.

Just now, Sylas had used his Will to surround Dresdun’s disks, and then he changed the parameters of the world around them, forcing Dresdun to recalculate and recalculate again and again.

Sylas didn’t have to win that way if he was so strong. The amount of computational effort something like that would have taken would eat into even a mind as strong as Sylas’, surely. So why would he… What she didn’t understand was that this was no effort to Sylas at all.

Dresdun was great, a Vitality Rune Master who was the closest to Spark Mastery that Sylas had ever come across personally.

But he was no Spark Master.

And he was certainly no Perfect Spark Master.

A Vitality Rune Master to a Spark Master might as well be a toddler.

The only reason their Runes could even “decipher” the world was actually because Dresdun was using his own Will to project a small domain in the world, forming a “world” of his own and applying control over that.

It was very limited, and there was a reason the disks were so small and their region of influence was so limited.

Sylas didn’t say a single word, challenging the woman next.

Her face turned pale and she immediately conceded. The last of them had the same ending.

There wasn’t the slightest chance of retaliation.

Sylas didn’t waste any time. Having cleared six of them, there were still five remaining.

He turned to the Ravult Race, his expression sharp.

The Ravult were a warring race not much unlike a certain Trakar Race Sylas knew well. In fact, they had four arms just like the Trakar did as well.

The difference was that they weren’t nearly so large, their figures so gaunt and lanky they almost looked like black-skinned skeletons. However, if one took their appearance to be some sort of commentary on their weakness, one would lose their life before they knew what happened.

The Ravult were a berserker Race. Their strength was almost entirely concentrated in their Physical stats, but more importantly than that, they grew more powerful the more injured and tired they were in battle. This Unique Gene of theirs didn’t seem to even have a limit.

They sat at the extremes of a C-Grade Race, and there were rumors that they were tied to a B-Grade that carried abilities seemingly even more exaggerated than this alone.

Their leader wore a necklace of bone, a small skull hanging on the end of it. A beast-skin skirt wrapped his waist, and beast-skin boots adorned his feet.

With a slide of his hand across his waist, he pulled out a pair of daggers that curved like scimitars, but were maybe three inches long at most. It was like he was holding a beast’s canines rather than a pair of weapons he intended to use.

However, this was the way of the Ravult.

He took a step forward, not waiting for Sylas’ challenge as he took it upon himself to issue it.

In a flash, he moved just as Sylas was in the process of accepting, appearing before him in a flash no less sudden than his initial movement.

Sharp and fast, he stabbed one curved dagger at Sylas’ neck and the other at his crotch.

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[Name: Bendazi Rolut]

[Level: 50]

[Physical: 62,832]

[Mental: 22,383]

[Will: 47,801]

—

Bendazi’s step was so explosive his foot almost blew out the bottom of his boots, the material flexing and whining so much a footprint was left behind in the ground instead of a shoeprint.

His daggers accelerated through the air, grasping for Sylas’ heart and the core of his being in equal measure.

BANG.

Sylas caught both of his wrists, an explosion of air erupting between the two that blew their hair back.

There was a cold indifference in Sylas’ eyes as he met the whitened eyes of Bendazi’s frenzied gaze.

He squeezed.

The sound of breaking bone echoed through the air.

“Admit defeat,” Sylas said coldly.

Bendazi roared in his face, wisps of white forming at the corners of his eyes as they began to glow.

He exhaled a steam, and Sylas felt that Bendazi’s strength suddenly increased by more than 10% in a single instant.