Genetic Ascension novel Chapter 1124

Planet Dazeth.

The heavy banging of metal against metal resonated through the air. There was a particularly rhythmic cadence to it, one that matched the breath of a behemoth of a man swinging four hammers at once.

While the entire galaxy seemed to be crumbling, Thalrik was busy in his forge. He didn't even particularly like to craft, but there was something about forcing metals that refused to twist in the hands of others into submission that made him practically purr on the inside.

Every time he swung a hammer, he imagined an opponent—and yet, rather than being a seething mass of destruction, there was something oddly… beautiful about his movements.

Despite his four arms moving in unison, each one hitting the same exact location again and again, leaving blurs in the air, there wasn't the slightest hitch or interference between them at all.

Maybe if he had been going slowly, this wouldn't be much of a feat. But the speed he moved with left howling winds in the air that played like the chimes of a flute, each concentrated pulse of wind being pulled through the anchor holes in his weapons.

It was nothing short of beautiful, as a harmony played out through the steaming air.

Until he was suddenly interrupted.

"WHAT THE FUCK!"

The tranquility of the red giant vanished, and he bared his teeth, canines flashing with what almost looked like blood as he turned. Even though the one who interfered with him was a D-Grade Elder, he still maintained the same level of fury, remaining mere moments away from attacking him with everything he had.

"Something has happened."

The elder waved away the aura coming from Thalrik.

"What? Did we find him? Can I go bash his head in now?" Thalrik asked coldly.

"The situation has changed. Follow me."

Thalrik watched as the elder turned away, shook his head, and threw his hammers with such force they blew the roof off, all before finally following after him.

…

"What? You're saying that I get to just fight them one-on-one? This is perfect!"

Thalrik's eyes blazed with light, but he didn't seem to catch the uneasiness of his elders. Well, what "seemed" to be the case and the truth were two completely different things.

"Thalrik."

A gruff voice stopped Thalrik's tirade in its tracks. A behemoth that must have been at least five or six meters tall sat on a throne, thick bands of gold wrapping around his four bulging biceps. He leaned his large face on two fists, looking toward his son with a very unamused light.

"For once, drop the act. I've grown tired of it."

Thalrik looked toward his father, frowning for a moment and then shaking his head.

"The details don't matter."

"They do," Patriarch Dazeth said coldly. "This time, our hand is being forced by the Petals of the Seeing Thorn. What do you think that means?"

"Sylas Grimblade's True Chosen mark ended up in their hands? So what. Soryntha is an ant."