Genetic Ascension

Chapter 1972: Trash

Sylas’ mind came back to reality and he discovered his palms scraping against a blade he hadn’t even been trying to stop in the first place. Wrath was so furious he simply proceeded for the most direct attack and just so happened to attack in this way.

But regardless of how he attacked, the strength behind it was far more than it had ever been before. Sylas didn’t know what was wrong with Wrath, but what he did know was that this wasn’t the strength a B-tier should have.

He was far too weak.

Whatever it was, though, it had been considerably weakened just now and Sylas felt like he had been hit by a truck. The skin of his palms were shredded apart by the friction alone and the sword pierced right through his chest.

Sylas just barely managed to dodge the slightest bit to one side. His understanding of his own body was perfect and time seemed to move at a crawl around him.

The blade slipped right through a space between his lungs and heart.

However, it wouldn’t matter in the slightest when the power exploded and his body ended up in a half disfigured and worthless state.

BANG.

The hilt of the blade exploded before Wrath could put any strength into it. The latter’s hand was minced to pieces, but the explosion sent the both of them flying backward.

Sylas skidded against the earth and slid to a stop, coughing up a mouthful of blood. His vision swam, his head feeling as though it was carrying the weight of the world. Maybe in a very literal sense, that was exactly what he was doing. But the brain fog was heavy.

It was like all the momentum of his comprehension had ground to a halt, but Wrath’s roar seemed to force him back into an awake state.

Wrath seemed to have completely lost his mind. Illusory chains appeared on his body and he ripped at one of them, only for his hand to fall right through it and rip out a chunk of his shoulder instead.

Rather than weakening him, it felt like this strengthened him considerably. Powerful waves radiated from him, the undulations pushing Sylas further and further back.

The illusory chains around Wrath rattled and then tightened, the echo of bone breaking and splintering echoing through the air. But Wrath’s muscles only bulged in response, pushing back against the chain.

They creaked as though they might break any moment now, but they held strong.

Orbs of red hung in Wrath’s eyes, replacing the sapphires that had once been his eyes with a violent tempest. Sylas could feel the waves of fury pressing against his own mind as though Wrath’s Madness Comprehension was leaking much like his own once had.

Those orbs of red landed on Sylas, shimmering like rubies. Wrath’s jaw unhinged, or rather, it looked like it had.

In reality, Wrath had roared with such fury he overstimulated his ligaments, tearing them apart in his rage with nothing but an overambitious roar.

And yet, much like every time before, it was like he hadn’t noticed at all.

He slammed a fist into the ground, shattering the platform the temple sat on. In an instant, he was already in front of Sylas.

Sylas’ focus faltered. The wave of Wrath coming from the Boar was so oppressive his Will couldn’t seem to remain on a single task. His own fury was being stoked time and time again.

How much unfairness had he faced to reach this point? He had stepped into this world, impossibly far behind, an incompetent, weak system dictating so much and yet not enough at the same time. That pathetic system had allowed his world to be messed with to the point much of Earth had been spoken for before he was even born.

If Earth didn’t have him, it would be finished. What chance would anyone else have stood when such odds were stacked against him?

Yet, how was he rewarded? With more work, with a heavier burden, with more people to drag along because they couldn’t do their own-.

“You’re starting to piss me off.” Sylas said coldly.

An illusory red glow forming over his eyes shattered, sparkling downward like shards of scattering ruby.

Wrath’s claw swept in from the side. It sliced across space, leaving arcs of red in its path.

The other half of the sword lodged in Sylas’ chest shot out.

CLANG.

Wrath’s wrist resisted being severed, the sharpness of the sword not nearly enough.

However, the cold chill in Sylas’ eyes was only deepening.

Every time he met a Madness Disciple, the more pathetic he thought they were. The thoughts Wrath tried to feed into his mind were so incompetently foolish it made him want to vomit.

Were those thoughts that this impotent excuse for a man had daily? And he wanted to influence him right then?

Who did he think he was?

Sylas’ Pride Seed roared. Flashing gold raged through his veins.

Wrath roared in response as though feeling it.

“Shut up.”

The strike at Wrath’s wrist was for no reason other than to slow his claws down the slightest bit, allowing Sylas a moment to step back and out of the way of the swipe.

The moment it passed before his nose, he was already taking a step forward, his palm striking down.

Semi-Fusion.

Fleeting Caress.

The Pride Seed within Sylas practically manifested into fluttering robes, an endless sea of white gold flames pulsing around him and especially around the ring in his eyes.

BANG.

Sylas’ palm descended and the chains around Wrath seemed fuelled to an extra degree.

BANG.

Wrath’s head was smashed into the ground, blood exploding around him as the chains tightened so much he seemed to shrink by half.

The Boar’s Wrath was snuffed out as though he simply wasn’t allowed to feel fury anymore, and the moment it did, he no longer had anything to push back against his restraints with.

The anger in Sylas’ heart hardly seemed abated, though.

“Trash.”

He held out a palm to his side and a scythe formed. He flipped it once and then struck down, impaling Wrath through the back and into the chest.