Genetic Ascension

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

Sylas’ arm exploded, and then the other one went. He lost a leg, a part of his head. His bones cracked and splintered, his inner organs vibrating so hard they turned to piles of mush and broken sinew.

A Will far greater than his own exploded in his mind, a relentless pressure forcing him down.

He could feel it more clearly now than ever before, the shadow of the true All-Seeing Eye. No… something that had come before it, something even more ancient, something even more unforgivable and callously indifferent.

It was this pressure that forced the Serpentes to their knees, this pressure that took their pride, stripped them of their wings, their claws—forced them to crawl on their bellies.

It was the sort of pressure that rended hearts and severed thoughts. You might be enraged after it had long passed, but while it was here, you had no choice but to bow to your own infuriation.

You had no sense of self, no sense of pride, no free will without its expressed consent. It could make you do as it pleased with a casual expression of its intent. What you wanted, what you desired, your own dreams and aspirations were entirely worthless.

It felt like being lost in the depths of the ocean, a realization of just how small and insignificant you were dawning on you as you fell into the darkness of the abyss. A trench kilometers wide and unfathomably deep lay out before you, the pressure from above sinking you in deeper and deeper until you could do nothing more than accept just one thing…

Your Death.

Be Strong.

The words echoed in Sylas’ ears. But this time, it wasn’t his own thought at all; it was that of a young woman. The voice was so soft, so gentle, so pleasing to the ear. It caressed his soul and soothed his heart. Almost on the verge of tears, it made one’s chest heave with the want to protect.

Sylas could recognize the voice as he had recognized the giggle so many times before. It was that same voice that came to him time and time again.

He didn’t feel like the words were spoken in any language he knew, and yet he understood them nonetheless.

It seemed that his understanding of Be Strong was too narrow. Being All-Knowing was never necessary… because it was already assumed by being strong.

Be Strong was simply the only way it could be distilled in the language of Earth. But in Ancient Ithkuil… it had a different ring to it, a length of words even longer and more unfathomable than Gogo’s name had been.

Yet, in this language that whispered into his ears now, it was distilled into nothing more than a single syllable. But it held all the meaning in the world.

Sylas looked up, but his eyes couldn’t see. Blinded by the might before him, or maybe it was the case that his eyes had long since shattered or ruptured along with much of the rest of this body…

He didn’t know.

But even so, he could feel it. That feeling that he had experienced once before in the volcano, an undeniable helplessness.

He sat with that feeling as though he wanted to recall it.

He thought he had gotten over it back then, but had he? All he had done was grow stronger, strong enough that the threats on Earth wouldn’t guarantee him death.

But was that the same?

No… back then, he had thought he really would die. There was nothing else that he could do, he thought that he had run into the very end of his road.

Now he was finally experiencing that again, that weakness in his flesh.

But it also made him realize something else… everyone had it. Beneath this sort of might, with its looming umbrella hanging over them all, it could all make them feel like this.

‘But I don’t want to.’ Sylas thought.

His heart would have been beating out of his chest if it still could. He knew that if his Will wasn’t practically frozen now, he would be feeling the very same anxiety, the very same angst, the very same pain.

It was a devastating feeling to realize that he hadn’t improved nearly as much as he thought because no matter how hard he worked, no matter how much he improved, no matter how great his accomplishments were…

There would still be this thing in his way, there ready to slap him back to the ground and force him to crawl on his belly.

And then it all vanished.

Sylas began to slowly fall from the skies, his body a mess of wounds. It was hard to recognize him in the slightest. But there were also no more flashing lights, no more streaks of lightning or deathly intent. The All-Seeing Eye had simply vanished as though it had never been there at all.

—

[Threshold Reached]

[You Have Been Awarded: Tier Three Madness Disciple Rank]

>[Taboo Threshold Raised]

>[Madness Key Upgraded]

>[Scorned Wraps Upgraded]

—

[Scorned Wraps (Incomplete Treasure Set)]

[A cursed treasure Scorned by the skies themselves. In its presence, your body cannot be adorned by armor and your hands cannot be graced by weapons. The Madness is relentless and its fury Scorns the world in return]

[Curse Status: Cannot be unequipped]

[+100% Constitution]

[Ability: Will Extension]

—

The Scorned Wraps began to glow. A flame danced on their edges, but in an odd showing, rather than burning them away, it seemed like it was forming new links and lengths.

Threads of the same bloodied cloth wraps began to extend from them, growing out from Sylas’ arms and feet.

They didn’t seem to show any signs of stopping at all, growing so far that they extended for dozens of kilometers and then even beyond that. They didn’t seem to have a limit to their growth at all.

And then they abruptly came to a stop.

With a sizzle, the flames began to reverse, burning away instead of extending further until they returned to normal.

BANG!

Sylas formed a pit in the ground, his Scorned Wraps looking as though they hadn’t evolved at all.

But their presence said otherwise.