Genetic Ascension

Old Brama’s palm came down with furious momentum. Just from his leap into the air, Zayreus had been blown away, coughing up mouthfuls of blood as he slammed into the benches and curved archways of the courtroom.

Zayreus wasn’t far from the D-Grade already, and just the old man’s aura and momentum from afar had caused him to react like this. One couldn’t even begin to fathom the sort of devastation that Sylas was facing off against.

What chance in the world was there?

And the end result was exactly as one might expect.

The palm shattered everything in its path, leaving a bloody imprint in the marble-stoned ground. The imprint itself was smooth, perfect, a level of both power and control that very few in the old man’s tier had ever reached.

But the inside was very different from the beautiful smoothness and structure.

Beaten, bloodied, a flat pancake of death and destruction, splintering cracks of oozing blood, flesh that couldn’t be recognized, and bone minced to dust.

The reverberating impact of the palm echoed. The room was already designed to amplify sound, to allow, especially those at the center, to project their voices without much effort at all.

And yet, now, it had been used on an attack loud enough to burst the eardrums of most. In fact, that was exactly what happened to Zayreus, causing him to cough up even more mouthfuls of blood.

In contrast to the reverberating booms, there was a silence that hung in between the peaks and crevices, everyone, even Niafron himself, looking down at where Sylas’ remains stood as though they couldn’t believe what they were seeing.

How had things suddenly flipped on their heads like this?

“BRAMA!”

It was hard to tell just how long passed before the first words were spoken, but even the echoes of the palm had long faded before anything was said. All that had been left was the huffing breath of the old Unitar before the courtroom seemed to lose its mind.

“Do you know what you just did?”

“Do you know who you just killed?!”

Old Brama continued to huff for breath, looking at the fleshly meat patty down below without even casting a glance upward.

“You’re the reason we’re in this mess! You bring us a solution, only to kill it moments later! Are you just doing your best to run the Grove into the ground? Have you forgotten the debt of favor you owe to your Ancestors?!”

At this point, even those once on Old Brama’s side were furious to an extreme. Yaoyao had yet to speak, but her brows were so tightly furrowed, her lips pressed into such a pin-thin line, that her stance seemed obvious.

Take advantage of his granddaughter? Was that a joke? No matter how talented, Sylas was an F-Grade existence. By comparison, Megean was already in the E-Grade. She wasn’t just any E-Grade warrior either, but instead someone soon to enter the D-Grade.

Sylas couldn’t have done anything to Megean that she didn’t want to happen, or wasn’t her fault for happening.

A genius like Sylas might be able to fight a weak Level 51 or so E-tier existence. But a Level 100 genius of a superior race?

Impossible.

Plus, in this case, killing was far easier than making someone do something. Who was Old Brama trying to fool?

In that case, it was more like something irrelevantly tiny, impossibly insignificant had happened, and the old man actually used it as an excuse to explode.

They were all intelligent people with Wisdom stats that were completely off the charts compared to the current Sylas. It didn’t take them more than a split-second pause to realize these things. The rest of the time they took to actually respond was just them processing the fact that everything their Ancestors had built might truly be destroyed at the hands of one man.

And for what, exactly?

This clearly wasn’t even something that was common knowledge, or else the first person to lose his mind would have been Zayreus. That meant that the old man’s actions were also bringing to light a situation that could have stayed in the dark.

The more they talked about it, the more they felt as though they were losing their lives.

Niafon stood to his feet, banging his fist down like a gavel. He was just a projected image of energy, and yet his Aether suddenly became so solid that it was as though a heavy metal hammer had slammed into everyone’s chest like a meteor.

Looking down at Old Brama, Niafon didn’t have to fake just how livid he was right now. Did he want Old Brama to succeed? Absolutely not. But Sylas’ backing had completely changed the root of the calculations they were all making.

Now, Old Brama had gone and tipped the scales on his own once again.

“This is the last straw. It has to be the last straw. I will be filing a motion to completely remove your branch of the Unitaur Clan from the line of succession. Once that’s done, I’ll be ensuring you spend every last waking moment of your life in a dark cell until the Scorpion Warlord decides to come here and deal with you.

“I will not have you ruin everything my Ancestors have ever built because of your willfulness!”

It was the first time Niafon had spoken such words so harshly, but the end result of them was about as one might expect… even those on Old Brama’s side previously had no rebuttal, and felt no need to give one.

This was simply beyond selfish.

All the while, though… Old Brama was still looking at the hole.

The sound of coughing and wheezing suddenly filled the atmosphere.

Sylas appeared behind the council of elders, collapsing behind Elder Yaoyao.

Practically an entire half of his body was gone. But the worst part wasn’t that it was severed away, but instead that it was crushed as though put through a meat grinder.

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