Genetic Ascension

Chapter 1828: A Sacrifice

The battlefield shook as the Legendary Luck Gene fused into it. The world warped and whined, but Sylas hardly did anything but force the Legendary Luck Gene to stay in place, interlocked with its individual Genes.

Sylas had realized that this Secret Realm was likely meant to be taken step by step for a reason. But there was no going back.

He had originally entered only to save Meagen, so how could he have ever started at the region he was meant to?

Luckily, there was a chance to reverse that.

Why was Sylas able to control the Golden Battlefield? It was because he not only understood it, but it also acknowledged him.

This scope and range were something that even the current version of him couldnʼt easily manage. Yet, he was benefitting from power the Golden Battlefield gave him even when he was fighting within his Hibernation Realm.

Now that Sylas had reached Void Mastery in the F-tier, he could feel aspects of this battlefield that he had never been able to before. Namely... an echo that existed much, much deeper.

This battlefield wasnʼt as artificial as it seemed. And, if it really was designed to give the Golden Races a new path forward to follow, then it would also be designed to combine with the Humanoid Body in a very organic sense.

And because of that, Sylas could use that truth to form a bridge between his body and the battlefield, and then his body and the Legendary Luck Gene, thus forming a connected bridge from the Legendary Luck Gene to the Golden Battlefield itself?

The result?

The Legendary Luck Gene would sink deeper, trying to find an F-tier Foundation to latch onto...

And then it would elevate it.

In that moment, the Spacetime of the three versions of the Golden Battlefield—the F-tier, E-tier, and D-tier ones— would all be forced into the same plane by a system much more powerful than the system of the Secret Realm.

That was when Sylas could finally feel it.

ʼI see...ʼ

He could feel it, a resonance between something that was within him, something he hadnʼt quite connected yet.

This place was, indeed, a prison, one designed to keep the Sanguara, Ghorath, and Blazara here.

But it wasnʼt for the purpose of trapping them alone as though they couldnʼt be defeated.

Just like Sylas had thought, if they could be trapped in the first place, they could certainly be killed. Even the infinite regeneration of the Sanguara had their own eventual limits. Sylas had confirmed that for himself protracted ago.

Everything the Golden Race did felt like a Race that was desperate to find something, anything to reach another level. Spacetime was one thing, but how had Old Brama gotten his hands on the Omnimous?

If Spacetime wasnʼt really something the Golden Race was good at, crafting mechs certainly wasnʼt in their repertoire either.

None of it made any sense. It didnʼt flow. It wasnʼt cohesive.

Unless you looked at it another way.

ʼThis Golden Battlefield doesnʼt exist to try to teach them Spacetime. I used it like that because I have an affinity for it, and the Unitaurs and Aurens tried to comprehend it like that because theyʼre so far removed from their Ancestors that theyʼve forgotten the original purpose.

ʼThis battlefield exists as a remembrance, a template that they can always go back to in order to revitalize and return their Race to their former peak.

ʼItʼs a lab. Theyʼre meant to use it to analyze and learn from the strongest of the Demons-Races that the Golden Race probably picked out specifically because of compatibility.

ʼThen, in case that they fail or they go down the wrong path, they can use the Golden Battlefield to retrace their steps and return to a ”previous save file”. Then, once theyʼve done that, they can try to learn and improve again...ʼ

The system they used was shoddy, but their idea, and the methods they used to implement them, were shocking beyond compare.

When Sylas finally understood the full scope of it all, he was actually...

Impressed.

Impressed both with the stupidity of the current Golden Race and the genius of their Ancestors.

But he also realized something else.

The Golden Race felt that they had achieved all they could as a Real Race, and so they decided to stake everything on trying to learn from Demon Races.

Was that even possible? Werenʼt they completely incompatible?

Sylas said this even as someone with Demonic Will.

Even now he had under no circumstances attempted to make drawing Demonic Runes a mainstay of his combat prowess, and that was for more reasons than just the system potentially coming down hard on him.

Using Demonic methods disrupted everything else. It required a completely different state of mind that shifted your entire battle style.

It was no wonder the Golden Race had a failsafe here, allowing their descendants to rewind if necessary.

But it also said that they thought the Sanguara, Ghorath, and Blazara were not only supremely powerful, but they were also the existences they felt were compatible enough with them that they could burst through the ceiling they had been stuck beneath.

Could it be that... the Ancestors of the Golden Races had seen the same ceiling Sylas had? Were they just doing their best to break past it as well?

As clever as the Golden Races were, as genius as their methods...

They couldnʼt figure out how to complete the fusion either. In fact, they had had no choice but to leave it to their descendants even with this sort of method at their fingertips. Or... ʼThey needed a large battle to set the right circumstances to make all of this work. But the very exact battle that positioned them to make this Golden Battlefield in the first place was exactly the thing that wiped them out... ʼA sacrifice...ʼ

Sylas nodded. He finally understood the full scope of everything.

Now it was time to replicate it.

Sylas sat down in meditation for three entire days.

When next he opened his eyes, he left the Secret Realm.