Genetic Ascension novel Chapter 1582

1582 /1587

1582 Odd Atmosphere

Sylas stepped onto the Sanctum's planet. His steps were calm, and he didn't look like he had just returned from saving his galaxy from yet another invasion.

But this was simply how he usually was. There was always a taller mountain out there.

This time, he had stayed a step away, but it had only opened up more problems. How would the Purvon react? What would be waiting for him at the Sanctum Gathering? What would the Kaelthar do? How would the Petals of the Seeing Thorn Matriarch react to her daughter's death?

He could see all of the problems lining up one after another. He wasn't lucky enough to have these matters dealt with for him, nor was he lucky enough that a single death would deal with all of his problems.

Unfortunately, what he had done would only bring down a fiercer oppression onto him. That said...

"Hand it over," Sylas said.

He stood with his back to his ship, looking up at the leaderboard of names ahead of him.

It wasn't clear who he was speaking to until a cloaked woman walked down with a pout and handed a ring over to him.

Sylas didn't look at her, taking it for himself before he headed out. That ring carried all of Fowler's accumulated wealth. If before he was one of the wealthiest men in the Sector, he was certainly unmatched now.

When Sylas stepped onto the Scorpion Lineage's moon, he confirmed that the atmosphere was odd. It was heavier in a way he couldn't quite describe.

By the time he made it to the mountain reserved for Gralith and his disciples, the feeling only became more certain.

Sylas' steps paused, his head turning toward a rock he had personally sat on before-a rock that many of them had.

Today, though, there was someone he didn't recognize sitting on it: a handsome man with the shadow of an unshaven beard on his face. His hair was a bit disheveled, his arms a mixture of metallic bands with hexagonal bolts keeping them together and bandaged wrappings.

Along the length of his back, a holster of seven blades was lined up. All of them seemed to be a variety of eccentric swords that looked almost... futuristic, more than rustic and ancient like the usual weapons Sylas came across.

There was one that had a blade shaped like a trapezoid, cut perfectly down the middle and attached in shimmering silver to its hilt.

There was another that had a spine of bronze forged of gears rotating in relation to one another.

There was another interesting blade that seemed the most normal of them at a glance— except for the fact the butt of the hilt had a rotating metallic eye that spun and locked onto Sylas.

Somehow, all seven blades fit on the handsome man's back, layered horizontally as though on a display rack, while the hilts alternated from left to right.

It didn't take Sylas much to guess who this was. This was Gralith's First Disciple, a man he had yet to meet the C-tier, Warlord Ekear.