Genetic Ascension

Chapter 1684 The Void.

[Bonus chapter thanks to Lothym :)]

Sylasʼ eyes were practically glazed over as they scanned the book before him. Reading every line felt almost like elastic bands were strapped to the back of his eyeballs. Every scan pushed them to their limits, fighting against the strain to finish the line.

Yet, when he got to the end, he didnʼt get the benefit of a snap back to the start-he had to fight against it all once again, working his way back to the start of the next line before doing it all over.

It was immediately obvious why no one managed to make it very far on their first few attempts. Every time he pushed, he was pulling hard on his Will to succeed. And every time he strained, he could feel a little of his Will stretching more and more.

Every stretch came with a new deformation, and every deformation pushed his Will closer and closer to being shattered.

At this point, it didnʼt even feel like a challenge of Rune Mastery anymore. It became one of brute force and Will, little unique from the Sanctum.

And that was how Sylas knew this was wrong.

Even though his Will was still in a compromised position due to the crimson lightning he had suffered the effects of not long ago, Sylas felt that he could push through. Even if he couldnʼt make it through 100% of the rulebook, he could definitely make it through at least 50%.

The problem was that he could feel that even if his Will wasnʼt compromised, making it through 70% on his first go was the best he could do. There was something exponentially taxing about the book that left him feeling like he was facing a mountain, endlessly vast and impossible to fathom.

Sylas didnʼt know the reward system. He had no idea that making it to 70% would have given him tens of thousands of Merits alone. But as always, he wasnʼt measuring himself by the measurements of others. He didnʼt believe that things would be like this.

The Weaver Guild shouldnʼt be a Will-based organization. They were Rune Masters. Even if he felt that their Ancestors were incompetent, were they incompetent to the point that their rulebook itself—the very core of their foundation couldnʼt embody what it was meant to embody?

Or maybe it was the case that what they wanted to embody was too complicated to distill into such a method.

ʼNo.ʼ

Sylasʼ eyes continued to pull his gaze across the pages, blood vessels popping and resisting against the strain. The pain of it all was heavy and only made focusing harder.

It was like it wanted to push you past your limits, to humble you.

For Sylas, who had stared into the maw of that crimson menace and seen the weakness in the Ancestors of this very Guild... He thought it was a joke.

ʼThere.ʼ

BANG.

Sylas suddenly slapped down a palm.

Rune stamping. It was something he hadnʼt done since he first started his journey of Rune Mastery, but the instant he moved, the glass encasement pulsed with light.

BANG.

Sylas slapped down another palm, and the page suddenly turned.

BANG.

BANG.

BANG.

The Runes should have been becoming more complicated, but it was like Sylas was only getting faster and faster at deciphering them.

To be everything and yet nothing. The importance of comparing and contrasting felt so empty and vacant when you were trying to stare at everything at once.

So many spoke of missing the forest for the trees, trying to pick out the details when there was a wide landscape right before you. But not enough people talked about the opposite.

How hard was it when you were bombarded with sensory information-when you were faced with a complicated topic that could have had a million different branching points to start from?

When were you really an expert at something? How could you reach conclusions? Was it possible to ever have a blanket solution to something as complicated as Rune Mastery? As expansive as the universe?

The void was truly an interesting thing. It taught Sylas nothing, and yet everything at once...

How to fill in the gaps, and yet pretend as though there were no gaps at all. To see and feel what wasnʼt there. To understand what was in the periphery of your vision as sharply and clearly as what was right before your face.

It was a concept that Sylas couldnʼt even begin to put into words until he saw that crimson lightning, that ceiling that stood at the pinnacle of the world and looked down on them for even attempting to sense its presence.

That was when he had understood.

The void... it was everything.

But much like a field of research, the more you untangled, the more details you tried to fill out, the larger the scope became the more complex-until you realized that the confidence you had had earlier was built upon ignorance.

The Runeweaverʼs Eyes... it was the basis of a truly special Profession. Somehow, it allowed one to skip over the necessity of comprehension, unravelling Runes on a whim and pulling them together with the same ease.

There was no input, no intelligence, no forethought... and yet it was so powerful.

It was like all the calculations were done for you without the slightest hint of effort.

How were these two things related?

Runeweaver Eyes... they covered so much, blanketed over so many principles and possibilities, allowing them to be used in an infinite number of ways.

And yet, ultimately, they were tugging onto only the slightest bits of fabric the Mesh of Reality had to offer.

From the very start, Sylas had only been able to gain a small glimpse. He considered he was looking at the entire picture because he could see and feel Space and Time. But there was a third pillar he had never seen.

The Void.

BANG.

Sylasʼ palm slapped down onto the final page, and the glass encasement churned and rumbled, one complex line of Runes after another forming across its surface.