Genetic Ascension

Sylas stood in the depths of space, stars twinkling in the distance while the remnants of the galaxy turned beneath him.

There were no real obstacles left anymore.

The Vosskarr were gone, their blood-written influence had disappeared with them, and the Efivara, one of the few forces that might have managed to organize meaningful resistance, were already gone as well.

What remained were scattered worlds, cities, defensive hubs, and individual powers that might have been dangerous under normal circumstances, but not like this. They could defend themselves, maybe even kill large numbers of the Serpentes Sylas had called, but they could not coordinate the sort of galaxy-wide response necessary to threaten him.

Any outside force that wanted to intervene would face the same problem. Building infrastructure across a galaxy took time. Establishing communication, transport, supply lines, defensive formations, authority over local powers, all of it required preparation.

Had the Vosskarr still been alive, someone might have been able to use their existing network as a proxy and move through the galaxy almost instantly. But Sylas had wiped that foundation away. Now, if anyone wanted to stop him, they would need to build from nothing.

They didn't have the time.

Sylas looked into the distance, his thoughts calm. He could finish within the week, well within it, actually.

But... that was also exactly what Rhykan wanted. So, the obvious choice was to do anything other than that, to find a different path.

The problem was that Rhykan was intelligent enough to know Sylas would think that way. He wouldn't expect blind obedience, and he certainly wouldn't expect Sylas to follow his instructions exactly simply because they were sensible.

The two of them had interacted enough that this much was obvious. Rhykan would have accounted for Sylas questioning the obvious path. Which meant Sylas couldn't simply reject the obvious path either. That would be just as predictable.

His gaze shifted, his thoughts passing over the three methods he had considered before, the three things he believed existed far enough outside Rhykan's calculations to distort whatever plan the man had built.

The Golden Grove was the first, especially Sylas' connection to the old Monkey King Mountain and the closed loop he had once used to resolve the Monkey King's interference across time. Anything tied to that sort of cause and effect carried possibilities Rhykan couldn't easily model.

Earth was the second, not merely the planet itself, but what it had become after two World Spirits fused and its old laws began to bloom again. Alex and Nathan were already buried in those newly mended laws, studying technology along a path rare enough that Earth could walk both sides of the universe at once.

The third was the old man's brush. Sylas still didn't know how deep its inheritance went, only that every time he thought he understood its limits, it revealed another method that seemed almost indifferent to the rules everyone else obeyed.

Any one of those might have disrupted Rhykan's plan. But Sylas chose none of them.

His expression didn't change, nor did he spend long debating the decision. Instead, he reached out a hand.

The remnants of the Vosskarr influence still lingered throughout the galaxy, not their Will exactly, but the pathways they had once used. Sylas had already turned those pathways into something else when he wrote Grimblade over their blood-written words, using the Vosskarr themselves as a bridge to spread his influence across everything they controlled.

Their bodies were gone, their Clan erased, but the scar they had carved into the galaxy hadn't disappeared so easily. Sylas could still feel it, so he used it.

Emerald light flared.

Across distant worlds, the last traces of the Grimblade mark awakened inside the systems the Vosskarr had once governed.

A city lord sitting inside a defensive hall looked up just as emerald lightning reflected across his eyes. A planetary ruler stood from a throne carved from black stone, only for the same light to bloom behind him. Generals, elders, kings, sect masters, guild leaders, and whatever else these lesser worlds called the people who controlled them all felt something brush against their Wills at the same time.

Then the Reaper appeared.

Black, torn robes drifted behind each figure, the ghostly shape forming so close that most never had time to react. White-boned scythes pressed against necks, curved blades catching the glow of whatever world they had appeared upon.

Sylas closed his fingers and the scythes pulled.

Leaders fell, then came the steles.

The authority structures of these worlds were crude compared to the powers Sylas had dealt with recently, but crude did not mean useless. The moment their leaders died, those structures became vulnerable.

Sylas' Will poured through the old Vosskarr network.

One stele dimmed.

Then another.

Then thousands.

Beacon still burned across the galaxy, but now it wasn't only calling Serpentes. The Grimblade marks moved with it, slipping through the same gaps in space and using the pathways the Vosskarr had spent generations building to reach everywhere at once.

World after world changed hands, stripped of leadership, authority seized before replacements could form, command structures collapsing almost as soon as they understood something was wrong.

Sylas watched it happen without emotion.

There had been three ways to catch Rhykan off guard before.

Now there was a fourth.

Perhaps the one thing Rhykan would never account for wasn't Sylas refusing his timeline.

It was Sylas accepting it completely... and then turning a week into half a day.

The galaxy trembled.

Sylas also couldn't help but wonder if Rhykan knew that he wasn't just a Progenitor of Earth...

He was the Progenitor of the Milky Way.

Before, those effects were muted because he didn't have nearly as much an understanding of it as he did Earth.

But... he bet the Milky Way would feel very differently after being elevated to a realm it could have never fathomed before. After today, he wouldn't just be a Progenitor in name alone. He would be a Progenitor in the truest sense.

The man who elevated a whole galaxy to another realm entirely.

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