Genetic Ascension novel Chapter 1739

Chapter 1739 Alright [Bonus]

Sylas appeared near the outskirts of the city—or as near to the outskirts as you could get when the entire planet was a singular metropolitan.

To his back, ocean waves crashed, families and various vacation-goers that had come to enjoy the beachfront scrambling in a panic much like everyone toward the city line.

Sylas didn't move immediately.

The goal of the Quicktime Event was quite clear: rush back toward the Purvon Clan Heir's building as quickly as possible. As he did so, the timer would run, and maybe, if he was lucky, for every 10 minutes that passed, the Level limit would rise by 1 Level. If he was unlucky, it would rise by 10. If he was especially unlucky, it would rise by 50.

What he had to do was obvious enough. But...

He wasn't a fan.

Using the Purvon Clan Heir was one matter. Scrambling for his life just to get back to ask for the latter's help was a completely different matter.

Something in Sylas' chest was tweaked, a ticking timer that had been silent for so very long suddenly moving enough that he registered it.

He had had this Pride in him for a very long time, but it had never harmed him before. The smart choice was obvious. In fact, with every second he wasted standing here, he was making things harder on himself.

He should be rushing back as quickly as he could. The Purvon Clan Heir was his only easy way out of here.

But the idea of having already been there, only to be kicked out, and forced to rush back...

Even someone with far less backbone than Sylas would taste something particularly foul in their mouth-let alone Sylas himself.

BANG. BANG. BANG.

High above Sylas, a familiar Ancestor of the Entrim emerged. Salivar's grandmother had sensed the forced teleportation of the system, appearing right above Sylas.

But her attempt to attack him was blocked by a fluctuating barrier, and she was sent flying high into the skies.

A warning of the system entered down as she stabilized herself in the clouds, fury painting her features.

However, from start to end, Sylas didn't even look up at her.

Sylas looked down from the building on the horizon even as a huge marker appeared high above it and his own head. He pulled on the Scorned Wraps as though to tighten them around his wrist, his breath coming slower and slower.

There was really only one choice to make. The smart choice.

Lay down his Pride and run. Run as fast as he could.

Now that a system reward had been attached to it, the Purvon Clan Heir would have to do his duty now, so long as Sylas could make it to that door again.

There was no need to think.

A flash of a memory pulsed in Sylas' mind—a sky of crimson and ruby lightning. It vanished as soon as it appeared, sizzling out as though it was nothing but a figment of his imagination.

If he was in his young master's position, he would have just directly let Sylas in. Even if he wanted to choose his Pride, he'd find another way to punish Sylas for using him. After all, the risk of putting Sylas in such a trial was too high.

Sylas had just been in a life and death battle with the strongest enemy he had ever had to face head-on. How much more did he have to give? How would he face such numbers? Such power?

The odds he would die even if he had started to run right from the very start were far too high.

By the same token, if he was Sylas, he would have already begun running toward them with everything he had. Standing there for over a minute, looking down at his hands as though the world wasn't collapsing around him?

It was absolutely impossible for him to have done such a thing.

There wasn't even any struggle or rage on Sylas' face. It was like he had transported himself to a completely new world.

But maybe that was why he followed his young master instead of leading him. And maybe that was also why his first thought was to kill Sylas and not repay him.

There was a world of difference between him and the two of them.

...

Sylas tightened down his Scorned Wraps one final time, his Virtue of Pride Madness Key dancing on his neck.

"Alright," he said softly, his voice echoing through the void. "It seems the Purvon don't need to become Demi- Gods, then."