The battlefield shook as the Legendary Luck Gene fused into it. The world warped and whined, but Sylas hardly did anything but force the Legendary Luck Gene to stay in place, interlocked with its individual Genes.
Sylas had realized that this Secret Realm was likely ant to be taken step by step for a reason. But there was no going back.
He had originally entered only to save agen, so how could he have ever started at the region he was ant to?
Luckily, there was a chance to reverse that.
Why was Sylas able to control the Golden Battlefield? It was because he not only understood it, but it also acknowledged him.
This scope and range were sothing that even the current version of him couldn't easily manage. Yet, he was benefitting from power the Golden Battlefield gave him even when he was fighting within his Hibernation Realm.
Now that Sylas had reached Void Mastery in the F-tier, he could feel aspects of this battlefield that he had never been able to before. Naly... an echo that existed much, much deeper.
This battlefield wasn't as artificial as it seed. And, if it really was designed to give the Golden Races a new path forward to follow, then it would also be designed to combine with the Humanoid Body in a very organic sense.
And because of that, Sylas could use that truth to form a bridge between his body and the battlefield, and then his body and the Legendary Luck Gene, thus forming a connected bridge from the Legendary Luck Gene to the Golden Battlefield itself?
The result?
The Legendary Luck Gene would sink deeper, trying to find an F-tier Foundation to latch onto...
And then it would elevate it.
In that mont, the Spaceti of the three versions of the Golden Battlefield—the F-tier, E-tier, and D-tier ones— would all be forced into the sa plane by a system much more powerful than the system of the Secret Realm.
That was when Sylas could finally feel it.
'I see...'
He could feel it, a resonance between sothing that was within him, sothing he hadn't quite connected yet.
This place was, indeed, a prison, one designed to keep the Sanguara, Ghorath, and Blazara here.
But it wasn't for the purpose of trapping them alone as though they couldn't be defeated.
Just like Sylas had thought, if they could be trapped in the first place, they could certainly be killed. Even the infinite regeneration of the Sanguara had their own eventual limits. Sylas had confird that for himself protracted ago.
Everything the Golden Race did felt like a Race that was desperate to find sothing, anything to reach another level. Spaceti was one thing, but how had Old Brama gotten his hands on the Omnimous?
If Spaceti wasn't really sothing the Golden Race was good at, crafting chs certainly wasn't in their repertoire either.
None of it made any sense. It didn't flow. It wasn't cohesive.
Unless you looked at it another way.
'This Golden Battlefield doesn't exist to try to teach them Spaceti. I used it like that because I have an affinity for it, and the Unitaurs and Aurens tried to comprehend it like that because they're so far removed from their Ancestors that they've forgotten the original purpose.
'This battlefield exists as a rembrance, a template that they can always go back to in order to revitalize and return their Race to their forr peak.
'It's a lab. They're ant to use it to analyze and learn from the strongest of the Demons-Races that the Golden Race probably picked out specifically because of compatibility.
'Then, in case that they fail or they go down the wrong path, they can use the Golden Battlefield to retrace their steps and return to a "previous save file". Then, once they've done that, they can try to learn and improve again...'
The system they used was shoddy, but their idea, and the thods they used to implent them, were shocking beyond compare.
When Sylas finally understood the full scope of it all, he was actually...
Impressed.
Impressed both with the stupidity of the current Golden Race and the genius of their Ancestors.
But he also realized sothing else.
The Golden Race felt that they had achieved all they could as a Real Race, and so they decided to stake everything on trying to learn from Demon Races.
Was that even possible? Weren't they completely incompatible?
Sylas said this even as soone with Demonic Will.
Even now he had under no circumstances attempted to make drawing Demonic Runes a mainstay of his combat prowess, and that was for more reasons than just the system potentially coming down hard on him.
Using Demonic thods disrupted everything else. It required a completely different state of mind that shifted your entire battle style.
It was no wonder the Golden Race had a failsafe here, allowing their descendants to rewind if necessary.
But it also said that they thought the Sanguara, Ghorath, and Blazara were not only suprely powerful, but they were also the existences they felt were compatible enough with them that they could burst through the ceiling they had been stuck beneath.
Could it be that... the Ancestors of the Golden Races had seen the sa ceiling Sylas had? Were they just doing their best to break past it as well?
As clever as the Golden Races were, as genius as their thods...
They couldn't figure out how to complete the fusion either. In fact, they had had no choice but to leave it to their descendants even with this sort of thod at their fingertips. Or... 'They needed a large battle to set the right circumstances to make all of this work. But the very exact battle that positioned them to make this Golden Battlefield in the first place was exactly the thing that wiped them out... 'A sacrifice...'
Sylas nodded. He finally understood the full scope of everything.
Now it was ti to replicate it.
Sylas sat down in ditation for three entire days.
When next he opened his eyes, he left the Secret Realm.
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