[Bonus thanks to Chronotitan. The infernal pits of hell are waiting for you]
Before Sylas could decide how he felt about what he had just seen, a laughter he could only describe as obscene peeled across the skies. It sounded more like a lewd old man than anything else, especially when it came out so hard that he started hacking and wheezing a moment later.
The echoes of what sounded like a man's fist hitting against his own chest followed, then a clearing of the throat, before a silent breath out.
"Mm. It seems I lost my composure for a moment."
Sylas, though, didn't see a single thing. He thought the old man had killed himself in meditation. After spending what probably amounted to billions of years sitting in the same exact spot, he had likely tried to push through one final time, only to fail and destroy himself in the process.
At least that was what Sylas thought happened.
But that laughter, though it was very different from the old man he thought he had met, most certainly carried the very same tone and sound.
There was no doubt. This man was the very same creator of the Creation World. So where was he?
"Ah, the snot-nosed master can't find me. Sucks to suck, now doesn't it. Ah, I've waited seven billion long years to say that. Do you know how embarrassing it is to call a junior barely a fraction of your age "master"? It's quite unbelievable, really.
"When are you going to give your disciple some gifts? This is tradition, you know."
Sylas didn't even know what to say. When had he taken in a disciple? Let alone one so shameless?
Sylas had never thought of taking in a disciple, nor would he probably ever. He didn't have the patience, and also taking in a disciple was a very similar concept to having a child.
In fact, in this world, having a disciple was almost exactly like having a child because for most of them, it usually meant passing on literal bloodlines, Genes, and even Will.
However, usually people did this for the sake of cementing their legacies, building Karma, and passing on their memory.
Sylas could build Karma on his own. His legacy would be cemented by himself. And he didn't plan on dying.
So what was the use of a disciple to him?
If not for the fact he knew Cassarae and his parents wanted him to have children, he probably wouldn't have cared to.
Well…
Sylas' gaze went a bit unfocused for a moment. Actually, maybe that wasn't true. He liked the idea of family, of protecting his own, of peace, at times.
It was just that his version of peace was quite interesting compared to others. He wanted to know there was a challenge there if he ever felt too bored, and then he would be content.
He loved his family like any other man would. But he would never have children just for the sake of passing himself onto future generations.
He alone could do that.
"Unfortunately for you, you don't have a choice, snot-nosed master."
—
The old man grinned. "Ah, now you can see me. Good, great. I was worried that that wouldn't work, but I guess the fact you could hear me pretty much said that you definitely could. It makes sense, this is your path as well, so you'll be more resistant to it than others."
Some of the old man's excitement began to fade away and some of his original demeanor was back. However, mixed within, there was the air of a man who had regained his spring of youth.
He hadn't been so excited in a very long time. His choice to allow Sylas' Legacy of Key to work was the best choice that he had ever made.
Seeing Sylas' gaze, though, the old man shook his head and sighed.
"I only became so cynical because I had seen everything already. You're so young and already like this. Live a little."
"I do." Sylas replied calmly.
The old man chuckled. "Well, if you don't hide that Lust Seed a bit better, you'll have no choice but to."
Sylas' gaze became a bit weird. Was this old man coming onto him? He was having a hard time reading the intentions of someone wrapped in the void.
A realization overcame Sylas. Had he always been so good at reading people because he was constantly scrying their Wills? Even back on Earth?
"Get your mind out of the gutter, bratty master. You're not nearly handsome enough for me."
The old man put a finger up and the outline of a pair of breasts appeared in the air, along with the face of what really could only be called… A handsome woman?

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