Fanelei didn't know how to take what she was seeing, her heart beating out of her chest.

Again and again, she felt like she had overestimated Sylas; she felt like, of all the people he had interacted with, she had to know him the best.

Although she didn't have clear access to the memories of the version of her in the Madness Key, she could still gain snippets here and there, as well as direct some things.

From that alone, she had extrapolated a great number of things and seen quite a bit of Sylas' progress.

And yet, in the end, she was somehow still so very short of where she should have been.

If the version of Sylas in her mind was the moon in the skies, the version she was seeing now was the entire starry skies itself. It was almost laughable just how much she had underestimated him.

She had thought that by comparing Sylas to that eighth mysterious founder of their Weaver Guild, she was already giving him undue praise.

That existence was the one person who had completely ignored the strength of their seven bloodlines, forging a path all his own. In fact, even to this day, there wasn't true confirmation that he had died.

For all Fanelei knew, he was out there in the world somewhere, still displaying a great amount of strength. And if that was the case… then it was all the more likely that he had grown into an unfathomable monster.

The only way a man like him would still be improving was if he had successfully managed to enter the world of Gods… and maybe, just maybe, he had seen that ceiling for himself.

That was the man that Fanelei was comparing Sylas to—someone who had started beneath the ranks of Demi-Godhood and Godhood but had grown to the point that they had no choice but to at least look down from their lofty perches toward him.

Yet, Sylas had blown his record out of the water, and what they were seeing now…

Was Sylas really managing to do this with just the information that she had given him? If he had more information, if he had more time to prepare and ready himself, if he had more backing from their guild…

Just what would he be able to do?

Monster…

Ironically enough, Fanelei assigned the same label to Sylas that her own spirit counterpart had. Unwittingly and unassumingly, her feelings toward Sylas merged with that version of herself until they were practically one and the same.

The difference this time was that while that spirited version of herself was locked away in the Madness Key, ignorant of what her main body wanted and forced to continue along with their plan in hopes that things would just eventually work out…

Her main body had no such obligations. In fact, her main body was practically at Sylas' beck and call, unable to do anything more than try to support him to the best of her abilities.

"I'm sure what you all have seen just now is better than any explanation I could give you, right?"

If the first round was a fluke, just what was this round?

And if Ancestor Zeekr could figure out what was going on here, then how could the Weaver Guild—a true Guild of Rune Masters—not understand what they were seeing?

However, they were also all privy to one thing that the Seeing Eye Guild was not. Because if Ancestor Zeekr knew this truth, as much praise as he had for Sylas now, his final conclusion would only be all the more exaggerated.

In fact, if he knew of this truth, rather than sitting there, waiting for the ultimate end result and hoping that Salivar Entrim would be able to deal with all that came, he would instead be advocating for something completely different.

He would undoubtedly advocate for forgetting everything… their face… the system's rage… their Karma…

All for the sake of going all out to defeat Sylas right here and now.

As for what that hidden truth was?

"Tell us the truth, Fanelei… have you really personally taught such a genius?"

An ancient voice from the depths of the Analei ancestral lands spoke.

The lifespan of Legends was incredibly long, often counted on the order of tens of thousands of years. Although it couldn't be said that they had lives as long as worlds, to most mortals, they might as well have.

As such, while strength was a deciding factor in a lot of things, seniority often took precedence as well. The voice that had spoken just now was quite a lot like the eighth founder… no one had ever confirmed his death, but many of them had even forgotten of his existence, going about life as though he had long passed away.

The oldest of the Ancestors was known as the Ancient Head, and if there were ever to be a title closest to "Patriarch" handed to someone, it would be given to this man.

For him to speak now, it only went to show the sheer gravity of the situation.

But his words…

Fanelei knew that right now, she was deciding Sylas' life and death—and maybe Sylas, long ago, knew that this question was coming.

That was because right now… she had no choice but to answer in only a single way.

"Yes, Ancient. This child is from a Summoned World, which is why I haven't been able to bring him here. He's also a bit stubborn and unruly. To tell you the truth, I was staunchly opposed to this, however, his talent is such that he can pull the wool even over my own eye. But he is my disciple nonetheless, no different from a son to me."

Silence fell.

It was clear and obvious what the crux of the matter was… if Sylas really owed his talent to Fanelei, then all was right. If not, though… they would simply be raising a fox in their wolf's den.

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