Genetic Ascension

Chapter 918 Embalmed

Chapter 918 Embalmed

Roderic was once again the first to feel it. But his mind was in such a mess that he was barely holding onto his control of the formation. Reacting to Sylas' movements was endlessly difficult for him.

It was Amara who realized the issue.

"Focus, Roderic. We will handle it!"

She didn't know why Roderic was reacting like this. They couldn't split their senses, and only Roderic had the vantage point to see exactly what had happened behind them. But she could feel the fluctuations of law and Aether.

If it was what she was thinking, then the situation was certainly bad, but not to the point that Roderic should react like this.

But then it happened.

She tried to lock onto Sylas' approaching aura with their abilities.

Chi.

It shattered. Not Sylas, nor the formation beneath their feet, but instead their attempt itself. It was like the laws of the world refused to go after Sylas at all, as though it had chosen its favorites already and they weren't them.

By this point, the obelisk had long risen out of the ground. It seemed about 80% of the way separated from the City of Glass, the last 20% of which was just the final push.

But Sylas didn't feel like he needed them anymore. So why not just get rid of them while their attention was split?

Sylas appeared in the midst of their formation.

The three Monarchs couldn't even react as his claw shot through Roderic's chest. The sharpness of his claws shot through his Constitution, armor, and Aether as though they were formed of wet tissue paper, sinking through his ribcage and around his heart.

Sylas squeezed.

Blood flowed down Roderic's lips and chin, marring his pristinely trimmed beard. He coughed, spluttering as he looked to Sylas one more time.

Maybe the moment Sylas drew his finger across the skies the first time... he already knew that his death would be inevitable.

Hatred spiraled in his heart... or what was left of it. But it was weighed down by fear and helplessness to the point that he couldn't even display it.

Just how many sacrifices had they made to reach this point?

"RODERIC!" The two Monarchs shouted at the same time, but their triangular formation had already collapsed.

'Hm?'

"I want to know everything they know. You have three hours."

"Yes, master."

Sylas' telekinesis moved and tossed Roderic at Nosphaleen. The latter seamlessly caught him with her own, then swept up the other two before vanishing into the distance with a sway of her tail and a strong pulse of her wings.

She knew Sylas well enough that he didn't care to see her methods. So she wisely chose to leave the region for the time being.

Sylas took his eyes off the city once again. Right now, he had about a day and three quarters to deal with. By the time Nosphaleen came back, it would be more like a day and a half.

His decision... would depend on what Nosphaleen said. But in the meantime...

'Just what is this...?'

The fact Roderic was still alive was a surprise to him. Was it a special Class?

'No... this can't just be a Class; Classes don't change you, think fundamentally, at least not yet. It has to either be a Gene Class or a Race change... is he actually undead?'

Sylas' eyes narrowed.

He was a bit confused, not just because of the substance in his hands, but why he was so obsessed with it. This world had a lot of weird things; why was he so hung up on this?

And then it hit him.

'Extricate.'

He pulled on the blood, ripping all the Essence out of it. Behind, all that was left was a whimpering black fog.

Corrupt Aether.

'The Thryskai? But if it's him, then why did he mention that the Africor Monarchs were cowards if he controlled them?'

"SYLAS BROWN!"

Cassarae stood outside the city, fuming. Steam was practically coming out of her ears, but Sylas was so focused on his train of thought that it was like he hadn't heard her at all.

'It's not the first odd thing the Thryskai has said. He claimed that he was responsible for the time warp, when it was clear he didn't have the Runic skill to even attempt such a thing, much less take credit for—.'

Sylas' eyes opened wide.

Nosphaleen.

His foot stomped at the air and he bolted in the distance, streams of lightning sparking in his wake.