Sylas didn’t feel the change immediately—maybe because it flowed so naturally, or maybe because the UniForm had increased his mental capacities so much that it was hard for him to notice such minor changes to begin with.
But what he did feel was free. There seemed to be no greater control in the world than Runes, and when they flowed around your body, it was like the universe was blessing you in a way—caressing your body and soothing your soul in ways he just couldn’t fathom.
If he wanted to, even breathing could be helped. He could filter out oxygen in the air, making it more pure. Or he could change the pressure in his lungs, making the diffusion of oxygen into his blood more efficient. Or he could slow the flow of blood in exact parts of his body so that recovery would be faster and he would benefit from the oxygen more.
Thoughts, variations of these thoughts, and other applications went through his mind one after another until he realized that the path he had to take wasn’t any of the ones he saw before him now.
These were easy enough, but what he needed was a Beast Combatant Mancer Path… but not of a Basilisk, not of any one Serpentes, not Great Apes, nor of Scorpions… not even of Humans in general.
But him.
He needed a path that embodied Sylas Grimblade and everything he was and could be. He needed to be able to reflect himself into a Beast Totem.
And if he could do something like that, then would he still have trouble making his various Beast Paths work for him? Would they still clash in the same ways? Would they still be so unruly while they were under his control?
Or would they realize that there was just one true King? Just one person worthy of taking that Throne?
Sylas suddenly gasped awake, his body convulsing as beads of sweat fell down his brows.
He had pushed himself too hard. The first day, he only stayed in the UniForm for just that day, but this time, after rest, he had stayed for an entire day and a half.
He had felt his body reaching its limits, but he had kept pushing—partly because he didn’t want to waste time, and partly because he knew that every long session in the UniForm was a huge boost to his Wisdom.
Coughing and wheezing, he slowly pulled himself out. But even with the almost catatonic state his body was in, the focus of his mind was singular.
A Beast Rune Master Path all to his own.
The idea was just a small, budding fruit, and he couldn’t fathom how much work it would take to carve something like that out, but he was certain that this was the path he wanted for himself.
This was the only Path he would be willing to take.
He grabbed onto a steel table to pull himself up, only for a hand to reach down and pull him up.
Old Brama.
The old man held Sylas up by the collar of his drenched shirt, fire spitting in his eyes. He had been away, completing the tasks that Sylas had asked of him, only to return to find that his granddaughter had done something absolutely stupid.
How could he not be spitting fire right now?
“What did you do to her?” he growled.
Sylas looked back, his emerald irises deep and unfathomable. He stared at the old man for a long while, and then he passed out.
**
Sylas’ eyes shot open—not naturally, but under a nudge from Gogo. The latter was smart enough to think on his own now, so he knew that if Sylas spent too long in a comatose state, they wouldn’t have the time to do anything else.
Most of everything had already been figured out by Sylas, but there was still one more thing he wanted to do, and that was study his eyes a bit more.
Thankfully, the Golden Grove had all the materials he needed to complete the second stage of his eye evolution technique—he would just need more eyes first.
But before that, he would also like to understand more about how to apply and use these eyes of his as well.
There was a path of Sealing and Decoding amongst Formation Rune Masters, and he had already memorized all of their Runes, but he hadn’t spent enough time reading into their theories and such. He had been far too enamored by the Runes themselves, so he would need to do that.
Then… he could return.
That target of a seven-digit Combat Matrix Index was still floating around in his head. But it was quite amusing that Sylas was so focused on the top three, that he had never bothered to check what the lower-ranking geniuses could manage.
If he knew where his near 680,000 Combat Matrix Index stood compared to them, how he would react was obvious enough. After all, he only liked measuring himself by his own stick.
But that didn’t mean that it wouldn’t floor others.
Sylas pushed himself up from the bed and stumbled a bit. He shook his head but found himself in a hall filled with the E-Grade foods he had asked for.
In a far-off corner, Old Brama stood there in silence, his face somewhat pale and his eyes a bit red, but this time, he didn’t say anything and seemed to have far more control over himself.
Sylas ate with a vigor even greater than before, circulating his new Skill as fast as he could and with as much depth as his Aether and focus would allow without compromising what he thought he would need for his next session.
This session would be the last session. He had to make it count.
He would make it count.
He stood after he finished his meal, meat bombarding him from the inside out as his body viciously churned against it.
“… I know you can save her,” Old Brama eventually said before Sylas left. “… But I won’t ask you to. Instead, I’ll tell you that the secrets of our Golden Grove are far deeper than that. If you want them, you have no choice but to save her.”
Sylas looked back to the old man for a moment, and then turned and left.