Genetic Ascension

Chapter 2300: Just In Time

Gentrixaulʼs tail moved, a furious roar leaving his lips.

His irritation took shape in a violent whirlwind. But whereas the fury of any normal being might cause a damage on the scale of a body, Gentrixaulʼs bodily scale was that of a galaxy.

The reflexive fury of something enormous burned away at the crevices of reality, and the star system it passed through simply stopped existing in the span of a breath of time.

The first celestial bodies unravelled along the line his scales had traced, and the eleven planets that had been circling it for tens of billions of years followed after in a spray of molten rock and iron. The debris didnʼt settle, spraying and carrying the momentum of a Godʼs rage across light years.

By the time it crossed into the galaxies bordering his own, it had spread thin. But thin to a planet meant little to a humanoid, and sparse to a star could nuke worlds.

Bodies of earth that had never heard the name Gentrixaul woke to a rainfall of asteroids peeling across their skies, oceans boiling out of their basins, whole civilizations ending under a sky once blue, now red, and crimson, and violet, and black… None of it could stave the fury in his chest.

A C-tier, a mere C-tier… no, not just a mere C-tier, but an ant of the Demi-God Plane had actually dared to reject his offer, to turn his nose up at his power.

He was quickly becoming a laughing stock. He had slayed Gods in his time, S-tiers taht could have lay waste to the entire Demi-God Plane in a fit of their own fury. He had treated them with childlike indifference and crushed them beneath his tail much the same.

And yet, it was a mortal and a Demi-God who dared to say no to him.

His coils shifted, and the space around him began to fold and concentrate. He didnʼt care any longer, he would burst through the canopy that divided the planes and end this himself. He had exercised restraint for the sake of the rules, he had worked through events and inheritances and borrowed hands, and it had bought him nothing but humiliation.

The Pride of a God was not to be impugned, and he would burn that into their very souls as he killed them.

”Youʼll regret that.”

A womanʼs voice echoed. Unhurried, and entirely unafraid.

Gentrixaul went still, his eyes narrowing. Not just anyone could speak into his mind like this.

”Thereʼs a better way to have what you want.”

The folding space eased.

”Speak.” The rumbling voice of Gentrixaul filled the star system… or what remained of it.

”Not like this,” the woman said. ”Letʼs talk properly. I think youʼll find our interests overlap more than you expect.”

**

Sylas moved through the void with a casual flare, his Vipermancy carrying his steps like a compass. Every Serpentes within a certain breadth registered against it, and the ones with anything worth taking registered louder. He didnʼt have to search very hard to find them.

He killed the ones that were unworthy, and so far, that had been all but Sarethvane.

In fact, this was how he had found Sarethvane so quickly. That black Will had attracted him so very well.

But since then, there was nothing of the same interest. That wasnʼt much of a surprise, it was only natural. He had been through a lot already, and had sensed plenty of Serpentes, but none but four had truly caught his attention aside from Nosphaleen.

Yamero, Gogo, the Ouroboros, and now Sarethvane. One of those, he had created with his own hands from practically nothing, and another one of which was a true king amongst the kings of Serpentes.

Sylas could have made this faster. Beacon would have done it in a fraction of the time, forcing every Serpentes toward him. It would have also protected Earth from any potential ambushes.

But he didnʼt

Gentrixaul was a God. Whatever else the last few days had proven, that much hadnʼt changed, and a Godʼs methods ran wider than Sylas could see the edges of.

Plus, Sylas was still waiting on who would decide to interfere aside form the Serpentes… who was waiting in the wings to do something.

Gentrixaul might have the strongest effect on Serpentes, but Sylas was sure that by now far more than the Serpentes were aware of what was going on. And beast or not… the favor of a God was invaluable.

So he walked, and he cut down what he found, taking it slow while ensuring no one would sneak onto earth.

Then his eyes suddenly narrowed.

Sylas cut across the void. Planets and stars flickered past and behind him, whole systems reduced to streaks of light between one step and the next, and then he stopped.

Beneath him lay a world drowned in fog.

It hung in layers, green-grey and slow, thick enough that the planetʼs sunʼs rays glanced off the top of it, scattering before it could penetrate very far. It was hard to say if there was any light at all by the time you got to the surface, but worst yet… Nothing on it was alive.

Sylas descended into the fog and walked a street where the bodies had fallen in the doorways, in the roads, on the steps of their own homes. There was no clear signs of violence anywhere. There werenʼt any craters, no collapsed walls, no burning or blade-related scarring.

Instead it was poison, a poison that had taken them all.

For a moment, Sylas couldnʼt help but think of the Efivara.

It was the stillness and the scent of death everywhere that did it. It was a planet filled with the same sort of death as the first one he had seen on the Demi-God Plane… but it hadnʼt quite penetrated nearly as deeply. But there was a difference… This world hadnʼt been left, or more accurately, it wasnʼt yet designed to be left behind. It still had a purpose, something hidden beneath the surface, something it was being prepared for… The fog was too even. It sat at a uniform depth over oceans and mountain ranges alike, and it wasnʼt dissipating, which meant something was still feeding it. The dead hadnʼt decayed the way they should have, either, almost like they were in the very same limbo state that their world was pulled into.

Sylas lifted his gaze from the bodies and looked down, through the street, through the crust, into the dark beneath it.

…

Far below his feet, in a cavern where the fog was thick enough to have weight, Orokhun opened his eyes.

His gaze flickered once, toward the surface.

There was still work left. Not much, though, maybe a matter of minutes, and the last of it would settle the way it was supposed to.

He didnʼt know much about this Sylas Grimblade at all, but he had seen enough life to know that fury was only triggered by those who were capable, or maybe more capable than one otherwise thought they should be.

A man who could enrage a God would never be simple.

Dry Mouth had spent a very long time preparing an answer to that potential strength, and the man standing on his world had arrived just in time to receive that answer.