Genetic Ascension

Sylas sat down across from Lorien, his expression quite calm and difficult to read.

News that he was here on this Level 30 Bazaar was bound to spread a great deal, and it was unlikely that he would be able to stay here for very long without being targeted.

But it was true just the same that this was probably the safest place for him to be for the moment.

Thanks to the formations that the Golden Grove had put up, all those above Level 30 found themselves suppressed here—including those above F-Grade.

After gaining acknowledgement of this world and becoming its Czar, things changed for Sylas. He, at the very least, didn’t face such suppression at all. In fact, he was quite sure that there was more to take advantage of that he hadn’t had the chance to just yet.

Before he did that, though, he needed to make a decision. And it was impossible to do that unless he understood more about Lorien.

“Why are you so confident?”

It was a simple question, one that Sylas didn’t bother explaining too much, and one that Lorien was more than smart enough to understand. He wanted to know why she was so confident in pissing off the Thryskai like she did.

Lorien looked at Sylas for a long while. There was something unfathomable about those eyes that made them especially difficult to look at.

She never feared anyone. She had seen D-Grades in person before, spoken to some of them even, but none of them had made her feel like this.

It wasn’t a matter of power. It was just like Sylas could almost split her head in two and force his Will onto her. There was something very tangible about his Will that the others simply didn’t have.

It was said that it was far easier to progress your Will in the F-Grade than any other, and Lorien couldn’t help but wonder just how much water that fact was carrying for Sylas right now.

That wasn’t to say that she believed his Will was only so strong because he was in the F-Grade—that would be a ridiculous assessment. But instead, she couldn’t help but wonder if suppressing himself was part of his strength.

But by that logic… she had been in the F-Grade for far longer than Sylas, so why was her Will so much more inferior?

“Do you understand anything about the structure of the Thryskai?”

“Not enough.”

“Then that’s why you don’t really understand. Technically speaking, the strongest Race of our Galaxy is the Florineth—at least in terms of soft power, economic control, and things of the like. In terms of raw military power, the strongest are actually Trakar.

“The Trakar are practically a rolling, grinding war machine. They’re also well known as a group of madmen that look out for and seek battle.

“The only two reasons the Thryskai still sit at the top is because man for man, one of their best is probably worth ten or more of the best of any other Race, and because everyone knows they branch from a Race more powerful than any of us can fathom.

“If we are being the most charitable, and assuming the Thryskai never call for help or our actions don’t directly offend any branch higher up, the Trakar could probably eliminate the Thryskai from our Galaxy. Of course, that would leave them half crippled and they would likely soon be wiped out by someone else, but it would still be possible nonetheless just by a sheer numbers advantage.”

Sylas listened silently and didn’t interrupt a single time. Though, it was quite obvious to him that Lorien had yet to answer his question.

“The Thryskai you have been dealing with are actually just in a quadrant of this Galaxy. There are many quadrants, many of which are divided by a various number of Races, and they don’t all necessarily work together either.

“Ulrik and his father can be said to be in control of this quadrant and command a great deal of respect, but overall, they’re nearer the bottom rung of all the Thryskai in the Galaxy.

“So first of all, when you say that I offended the Thryskai, that is only partially true. In reality, my Mist Race is only suffering right now not because the Thryskai of our Galaxy is eager to wipe us all out, but purely because we are so weak that it is convenient for them to take action.

“If we reached a certain threshold of strength, the other branches managing other quadrants wouldn’t even bother to raise a finger and just let Ulrik and his father figure it all out. It’s more a matter of face for them than anything else.”

Sylas’ lips finally parted. “So you mean to say that you never had any intention of targeting the Thryskai as a whole all this time? You just wanted to weather the storm?”

“Not exactly…” Lorien said softly, her voice trailing off a bit. “… Truthfully, one way or another, I was going to end up offending them because the last thing they want is the appearance of a Progenitor in this Galaxy.

“The Progenitor of a World is a wildcard no one wants to deal with because it shifts the balance. The Luck of a Galaxy would tilt toward the world, and for the Thryskai that have so many Galaxies to manage already, they wouldn’t dip their toes in unnecessarily.

“At that point, so long as you don’t piss them off too much, and use a slow approach to edge them out, the Thryskai will invest less and less all on their own until maybe a day a few hundred or thousand years from now, they’ll just move on to another Galaxy.”

Sylas raised an eyebrow.

“That’s your plan?”

Lorien frowned. “Yes.”

“You’re lying,” Sylas replied calmly.

Lorien felt her heart tremble, but she didn’t get to speak before Sylas spoke again.

“I don’t think that someone bold enough to use the feather of a D-Grade Thryskai Demi-God as an Aether Treasure would take such a conservative approach. So I’ll give you one more chance to tell me the truth.”

Lorien’s pupils constricted into pinholes.

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