Genetic Ascension Chapter 1447: Petty

Sylas landed on the ground with a heavy boom, his eyes sharp and focused. He looked

toward Jala and Alex, who were practically on their last breaths. He didn't know, nor did

he care, how they had managed to survive.

With a wave of his hand, his telekinesis picked them up off the ground.

[Absolute Dominance has been Established]

[Champion Team ford]

[Would you like to na your Team?]

[Yes][No]

Sylas was about to say no when he paused, frowning.

Nas... nas again.

He recalled that day that felt like a lifeti ago. It was the middle of the trial and the

heirs of the powerful families of Earth had yet to make themselves known.

Sylas rembered seeing the leaderboard of City nas, recalling how silly they were.

He also rembered how he felt back then.

Those people probably thought everything was a joke when they chose those nas.

They chose them carelessly, thinking they'd wake up from this lucid dream soon, right

back in their beds.

It wasn't like him to waste ntal space on sympathy for others, but Sylas could

empathize with their situations. He wondered how rational he would have been in that

situation, and ultimately how the na they had beco known for was branded forever

with their naiveté.

Depending on how you looked at it, this could be a matter of great pride, a sign that they

had managed to make it so far even without advantages. Or, it could be seen as a

permanent stain.

Sylas himself could still recall that day in the volcano, the greatest stain on his own life,

the last ti he had felt true fear, the suffocation of it all. How would he react if that

mont was permanently broadcast, branded as a constant reminder of the day he was

the most inferior?

He never cared about the opinions of others. But the constant reminder of himself... that

was sothing that he couldn't withstand.

[Would you like to na your Team?]

[Yes][No]

Sylas looked at the question again and then closed his eyes.

[Team Na {Grimblade Lineage} has been chosen]

One day, that na would rock the universe, he swore it. It didn't matter what

disadvantages he started with. He would crush them all beneath his heel.

Every single one of them.

A pulsing radiance ca from Sylas' True Pride Seed.

[Madness (Silver)] - Progenitor

[The Madness consus you, but does not control you. Instead, it becos your tool to

both control yourself and others. You, while steeped in Madness, maintain your wits

about you. Your enemies, though, are not so lucky] [ 2000% Charisma]

[ 2000% Will]

WHOOSH.

There was a rush as the swirling gate of Aether opened up further, forming a spinning

sphere of black, silver, and blue energies that expanded until it swallowed them all up.

All that was left behind was silence and a lingering Will that seed to tower into the

skies.

The vessel with Brama was left behind in the sa exact location. As for the ship of

three dense black blocks, it hovered in silence, looking out into the world without a

word. It was as though the B-tier had completely fallen into silence.

Within the ship, the middle-aged man sat in complete silence. Darkness swallowed him

up from all sides, his expression unreadable.

It was hard to tell how long he had sat there. It might very well have been days before he

showed the slightest hint of movent.

But the instant he did, a fissure appeared across his face. Like the crack of a porcelain

vase, it ran up his face, pulsing red energies churning within.

"To think... that I would actually die like this..."

He continued to stare out, replaying the scene of Kraziel splattering against the ship's

shields over and over again. Sohow, it was so infuriating that it was amusing.

Slowly, he reached out a finger. Every movent he made only seed to form new

cracks in his body, revealing more of the crimson energy eating him alive from the inside

out. Every crack was like a new fissure into the abyss of a churning mass of rouge.

Even if he was going to die, though, he had no intention of leaving the world without first

leaving an imprint.

Was it petty of him to go after an F-tier for outdoing him like this? Sure it was. But he

didn't care in the slightest.

He slowly wrote out a ssage. It contained several tidbits of information. However,

because even moving the slightest bit caused him to race toward death even faster, he

had no choice but to be very selective with what he wrote.

[Primus Imperium. Abridge Sector. System interference.]

He pushed his Will to write more, but the finger he was holding up crumbled, a blinding

red light coming from it.

His jaw clenched. He wanted to write more information, he needed to, but he couldn't

push himself any more. It took several days just for him to stabilize enough to do this

much.

Unfortunately for him, no matter how unfair it was, there was no changing what was

already happening. There was no stopping it.

His head slowly turned, only to find that Old Brama had actually stepped out of his ship

and was walking toward the Veil Human's vessel.

In a rare change, Brama had actually entered his Unitaur form, but his legs actually

seed entirely ford from tallic parts and gears woven in gold and oozing an

equally golden Aether. It was like he had completely reford the bottom half of his

body, and the aura he was exuding as a result had multiplied several tis over.

The middle-aged man, himself, was a Rune Master. He could see the sa thing Kaeryn

of the Ossarans had seen—that being that Brama's ship was nothing but a fusion of

several ships.

Realizing this, he knew what the fate of his own ship was going to be.

He wanted to stop it... but could he? Could he even finish writing the words he wanted

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