Sylas didn't know what an Empyrean Dungeon was, not really. He knew that it was sothing of high level, he knew it was far more dangerous than an Astral Dungeon, and he knew that this one wasn't located in the Milky Way Sector, but instead another Sector.
However, he did know two things.
The first was that his Luck was warning him not to.
The second was that he had to go.
Everyone was worried about the Thryskai and their next move, or maybe the Sanctum and their coming challenge, but this wasn't what Sylas was concerned about at all.
Playing gas of chess with the Thryskai or the Purvon, or helping or blocking the Sanctum's path to success—he didn't care about any of that.
He only had one goal and one goal alone.
Be Strong.
His movents were just the sa as they were on Earth: moving toward the greatest places of danger and pitting himself up against them.
These clever moves that rocked entire organizations were little more than background noise to him.
Sylas' Ape Warlord Armor was ford again, only to shatter, and then form again.
Every ti he ford it, it was slightly different, but no matter the changes he made, it was a perfect 100% Mastery every ti without the slightest chance of failure.
He drew them as though he was casually breathing, but every ti he did so, it seed as though the Armor was growing darker, blacker, more sinister.
It wasn't good enough to embody Rage. Sylas didn't want fury to dictate his Armor; he wanted a controlled Madness—a comprehension of oneself that allowed one to tap into one's emotions and yet didn't cloud the vision or the mind.
Madness.
It had been a long ti since Sylas had had a breakthrough in his Madness Comprehension. It sat at Bronze Grade and Progenitor Mastery, but every step upward was like climbing straight up without the slightest hint of a slope.
It didn't help that with the True Pride Seed, his desire for self-reflection and improvent had gone down the gutter. He was perfect. What need did he have for such a thing?
At least… that was what a normal Pride Seed wielder would be thinking.
Sylas wasn't thinking this, however. It was just that making enormous breakthroughs in your mindset and understanding wasn't as easy the more of yourself you were accepting of.
Sylas had already progressed his Comprehension beyond a level most would ever touch in the F-tier; expecting more was likely expecting too much.
Even so, this Comprehension was more than enough to elevate the Ape Warlord Lineage to a completely new level.
By the ti Sylas had reford the Armor for the fifth ti, it was practically oozing a black aura, the hints of crimson that had once colored it being overwheld and washed away.
And yet, Sylas still shattered it again, and then again, and then once more after that.
No matter how many tis he ford it, he seed to be completely uninterested in the result.
Not good enough.
Still not good enough.
Sylas paused, his eyes cold as he stared out into space. He was missing sothing.
The First Layer of the Armor was a movent technique that layered into their thods of attack. When Sylas first saw it, it reminded him a lot of [Primal Step].
The Second Layer of the Armor was a projection of Will a lot like Madness, dimming the Will of an opponent to do battle.
The Third Layer was like Berserk.
However, this was just the Warlord Armor, and it wasn't imdiately obvious what weakness needed to be shored up.
For the Scorpion Warlord Armor, it was plainly obvious to Sylas. [Earth Escape] had no business existing within the abilities of its Layers.
But whether it was the movent/attack thod, the Will projection, or Berserk… all of them seed to be in line with the path of the Ape.
Except…
Sylas' eyes flashed.
He rembered that disgusting feeling he had gotten when he first drew the Armor—that desire to crouch down onto all fours and run on his limbs that way.
'That's the problem.'
Sylas had fixed that problem so quickly he had forgotten that it was a problem. But those habits—they were still engrossed in the Armor.
That small thing changed everything.
When the First Layer was used, it made the movent more heavily reliant on all four limbs instead of just two. When the Second Layer was used, it took the shape of howls as though a wild beast instead of a controlled predator. When the Third Layer was used, it made one lose their minds for the amplification of power instead of amplifying strength in exchange for stamina and blood alone.
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The reason the problem wasn't as plainly obvious as it was with the Scorpion was because the problem was the entire Armor.
Chi.
Sylas shattered it all again, his Madness Comprehension brewing. His eyes turned the slightest sheen of red as his hair rose.
Ta. Ta. Ta.
One shingle after another slapped into place. This ti, they weren't black at all… but a familiar shimring elder layered with Runes of dense crimson.
SHUUU.
Sylas' claws lengthened, his canines becoming more prominent as he seed to grow a half ter in height. His muscles rippled, tearing his dress shirt to pieces as his fra pressed up against it.
However, even as the last pieces fell into place, Sylas wasn't looking at himself at all. His eyes were completely and utterly focused on the Gene of black, erald, and crimson hovering before him.
—
[F-Grade Legendary Gene Detected]
—
Sylas seed almost too calm looking at it. It only seed natural that sothing of this caliber form for him. He was destined to be the strongest not because it was what he deserved, but simply because he was the best.
With a thought, he brought sothing out.
—
[Glyphspire Crucible (???) (Legacy Treasure)]
—
It seed that it was finally ti to use this properly. His reward from the Abyssal Cathedral gave him exactly what he needed.
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