Genetic Ascension

Chapter 2349 It Would

Sylas looked at Vaelith for a long while, his expression giving away almost nothing of what he thought about the revelation. Honestly speaking, it didnʼt change much for him, because the idea that God Clans might be working toward goals that spanned entire Planes wasnʼt remotely surprising.

He had already seen things operating on a scale far larger than the one in front of him now, and Nosphaleenʼs sudden bestowment of Goddess status was proof enough. Existences above could move pieces in ways those below rarely understood, on scales that were beyond usual logic and reason.

What amused him more was that Vaelith genuinely seemed to believe Rhykan didnʼt know he was being watched.

The odds of that being true were close to zero. Either Vaelithʼs information was incomplete, or there was some reason the falsehood itself needed to be propagated until enough people accepted it as truth.

Sylas had already seen something similar in the concept of Dragons, where enough Will gathered around an idea could eventually give that idea substance, though this was obviously operating on a much smaller scale.

As for why the God Clans would bother working this indirectly, that part was obvious enough. If they were seen interfering too blatantly with the Mortal Plane, the system would retaliate no matter how impotent it had become, and there was no better example of what that could mean than the Myrrakhael.

Anyone powerful enough to understand those consequences would naturally prefer to guide, suppress, test, or manipulate through methods that never quite crossed the line.

If Rhykan was truly so important to the God Clan Thryskais, then they would obviously need to protect themselves and him in their own ways, and this was the simplest available method to them. It was easy for people who didnʼt truly understand Rhykan to believe he had had the wool pulled over his eyes by Gods.

Who wouldnʼt believe that?

There was something else Vaelith was overlooking, though.

Rhykan wouldnʼt care about the survival of the Thryskai Demi-Gods simply because they shared a Heaven or ancestry. If sacrificing them opened the path toward something greater, Sylas doubted Rhykan would hesitate for long, because a man like him wouldnʼt be satisfied with ruling or protecting a single Demi-God Plane.

Rhykan had already commanded subordinates of Demi-God status while he was still operating on the Mortal Plane, which was more than enough to show how far ahead his plans were reaching.

His real interest was the Beast Emperor Sanctum.

That was where the deeper rewards were, where the secrets he had been maneuvering around for so long seemed to gather, and saving the Skai Heaven would always come second to whatever he believed he could take from that rise.

In fact, weakening the God Skai Heaven might even benefit him by loosening whatever control his own Ancestry believed it possessed over his future. The only question was whether the trouble caused by such a collapse would outweigh the freedom he gained from it.

Sylas didnʼt have enough information to answer that yet.

What he did know was that there was no guarantee he and Rhykan would stand on the same side when this battlefield fully opened. They might end up helping one another indirectly simply because their goals happened to align for a time, but Sylas had no intention of mistaking convenience for alliance, especially when dealing with someone who thought as many steps ahead as Rhykan did.

If Rhykan stood in his way here, Sylas would end his journey here.

The same applied to the other two Vaelith had mentioned, whoever they were.

Their God Clans could watch them, suppress them, nurture them through adversity, or build whatever expectations they liked around their eventual arrival on the God Plane. None of that meant anything to Sylas if one of those figures chose to interfere with what he wanted.

He didnʼt need to know their names yet. When the time came, their choices would identify them well enough.

Without another word, Sylas started walking toward the battlefield.

Vaelith watched him go for a moment before following, while Yamero drifted alongside them with his usual lack of concern. Below, Dry Mouth, Iskaleth, and Sarethvane had already begun carving a path deeper into the chaos, their movements gradually drawing closer to the central regions where the strongest concentrations of both Heavens were gathering.

Sylas had already wasted enough time standing on the outskirts.

The Kiver had delayed him, Vaelith had given him useful information, and the broader shape of the battlefield was becoming clearer by the second. There was no reason to remain hidden now, especially when the entire point of coming here was to establish the Grimblades and force their name into the Karma of this clash.

His emerald gaze swept through the distant warships, fractured bridges, and surging armies ahead. There would probably never be a cleaner opportunity.

Countless geniuses had gathered here because they believed this was their chance to steal Karma from another Heaven, strengthen their names, and build legends that would follow them upward. Powerful bloodlines, ancient Clans, hidden monsters, and figures backed by existences on the God Plane were all converging into one battlefield at the same time.

Sylas kept walking.

If so many people who might eventually stand in his way had gathered themselves into one place...

He might as well start ripping them apart.

Sylas slowly raised a hand. There was only really one thing left to do now. So many of his enemies were so scattered and so very confused. The Kiver had only managed to find him by accident, and there were likely many of the others skulking around in the shadows hoping to do the same.

Wasnʼt it a shame that they were having such a difficult time finding him?

The question was, how should one best announce themselves?

Sylasʼ raised hand pressed his middle finger and thumb together. A snap that echoed across the void of space forced the region into a trembling balance. And then, in a single instant of time, the stability of the void forced the incomplete bridge to fuse into a perfected final form in the blink of an eye.

He didnʼt fear the void. The void was he, and he was the void. When he told it to move...

It would.