Genetic Ascension novel Chapter 1287

Chapter 1287: Harder

The words darkened the atmosphere, the laughter doing little to alleviate the heft of it all. Correct content is on freew.ebno(v)e\l.(c)om.

The death of an in-name disciple wasn’t rare. In fact, it could be said that it happened quite often. The survival rate among in-name disciples was decent at around 60% or so, and that made sense—considering unless you were special in some way, you would never catch the eye of a Lineage Head to begin with.

But that still meant that they died 40% of the time. It was common enough to the point that almost one died for every two that were introduced. It was hardly something that would shock the masses.

That said... the death of one in-name disciple at the hands of another was a different matter entirely. The fact that it was almost near the end of the 713rd cycle only made it worse.

The closer you were to the end of a cycle, the less time a Lineage Head would care to spend on a new disciple. F-tiers and E-tiers, and even those at the beginning stages of the D-tiers, would require far too much hands-on help.

A disciple was also the reflection of a master’s capability as well. And if the Lineage Head of the following cycle didn’t descend from the former Lineage Head, it would be considered a breaking of the line of succession and an insult to the Lineage Head’s former master—not to mention a stain on their future as a core member of the Sanctum following this.

That was to say that every Lineage Head, even those that took in many disciples, would take each one very seriously. There were good odds that the very best disciples a Lineage Head would take in would be the first few and the last few.

For someone usually as selfish as the 713rd Rhino Warlord to take in a disciple at this time, whoever it was had to be someone he had high hopes for.

And now... that person had died... at Sylas’ hand?

The most ridiculous part was that Sylas hadn’t even mentioned it, as though he didn’t care very much at all.

By now everyone was clear on the fact Sylas had taken out the Beastguards for the sake of the reputational part of his rites. Did he not consider the death of another in-name disciple as something worthy of his résumé?

They were all members of the Beast Path. Their Warlord Armors all required hypersensitivity to Will and an understanding of it. Looking at Sylas, they could practically feel his towering arrogance. It bore down on them like wafting fumes of sulfur—sharp and uncomfortable.

It was quite a well-known stereotype that barbarian Races and those more in tune with nature were more straightforward and sensitive to these sorts of things. In the Sanctum... things worked out exactly like this.

"Is this true?" Thorak looked to Sylas for the very first time, but once again, it was Captain Herrs’ laughter that answered him.

"Not only is it true, but our Sanctum has welcomed its first unprotected Royal Line. Who would have thought, the quiet, unassuming Gralith Duskthorn would take in such an unruly, troublemaker of a disciple?"

Thorak was still looking at Sylas, and Sylas was only looking back calmly. His gaze seemed to be extremely difficult to read, as though he was only looking to see if Thorak had strength worthy of him paying any attention to at all.

The roar of two beasts suddenly echoed through the air, the spirit of a Rhino rising up behind Thorak.

Sylas hardly moved at all, and no spirit took shape behind him. And yet...

Chi.

Thorak’s Rhino split into two. And then four. And then dozens all at once.

Grade Slayer.

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