BOOM!
The rod fell onto Sylas’ body. He barely managed to bring up a hand, but the momentum of the strike was too much, pressing him down into the ground as the rod landed on his back and shoulder.
But it was enough. Enough to avoid it landing on the back of his head.
Even as his shoulder blade shattered into a million pieces, and his heart and lungs reverberated through his body—a resonance threatening to turn them into pulp—there was a flashing determination in Sylas’ eyes.
The power traveled down his wrist, his hand almost collapsing. But in an odd showing, while his body seemed to be twisted and broken, his hand remained intact.
[Earth Escape].
There was a blooming might, a rush of violets, blacks, and reds as the Scorpion Warlord Armor took shape for the briefest instant, just long enough for Sylas to shift through the ground.
But at the same moment, the Scorned Wraps lengthened, one of their strands subtly wrapping around Jala’s ankle.
As Sylas vanished, the ground shattering with a reverberating impact, Jala lost his balance, falling back and weakening the follow-through of his strike.
Sylas appeared in the distance, having phased through the ground. His armor was gone, having disappeared at some unknown time—or maybe shattered by the earlier attack. It was impossible to tell.
At the same time, his Scorned Wraps had returned to normal as though nothing at all had happened.
But there was an odd change.
Jala stood in the distance, stunned.
His hands were empty. His rod was gone.
Sylas struggled to his feet, his eyes bulging and veins pulsing across his already vascular form. It wasn’t that he merely felt heavy—he felt so heavy that even straightening his back seemed to be an impossible task.
But then he clenched his fists.
Chi.
A radiant emerald glow coated him from head to toe, his body wrapped by a steady pulse of Aetherflow as his telekinesis took hold of his every movement.
In an instant, he went from feeling as heavy as a mountain to as light as a feather… just in time for Israeal to appear before him.
Sylas’ smile had long vanished, the wounds to his back becoming a figment of his imagination. He didn’t need his body to be fully functioning. Since he could hardly use his muscles alone to move anyway, he would just have to use his telekinesis to make up for what his Physical stats couldn’t.
His hands relaxed, his breathing became even as blood leaked from his lips and down his chin.
A blade flashed before his eyes, and he suddenly switched his stance, the tips of his feet completing quick semi-circles as he slid out of the way of a swiping scimitar. However, even as he dodged, a second one was already on the way.
There was a dull, contradictory sharpness in Sylas’ eyes. He looked both unbothered by life, and yet eerily focused. He saw everything ahead of time, his sensory perception focused on not just what his eyes could see, or what his visualization could spot, but also the rapid changes to the Mesh of Reality.
The Dungeon was doing its best to shut down his senses—blacking everything out, restricting his visualization—but… he still had cards to play.
Nothing could restrict his Rune senses. The only method the Dungeon had to do that was to restrict the Runes in the region itself, something it could do because this domain was its own to control.
But if it did that…
How would it suppress Sylas?
Mixed Demonic Arts.
Sylas’ body seemed to move on its own. His telekinesis and his Comprehension seemed to have a far deeper connection than his body ever did.
After dodging the first scimitar, the second one was already on the way, but Sylas seemed to have seen it ahead of time. Israeal was about to learn in real time that out-of-galaxy genius or not, trying to hold back and play a part in front of Sylas would only cause him to suffer.
A fist depressed Israeal’s ribcage, his liver shifting in his body. A gasp of breath came from the Thryskai and his eyes bulged, his body being sent flying into the distance.
’Comprehensions… Soul Constructions… Will Manifestation… Will Core…’
Sylas felt something within him change as he used his Will as a conduit to control his Comprehension, his telekinesis manifesting the reading and reacting of his Mixed Demonic Arts Comprehension.
Jala, in the distance, seemed to have still not recovered. He was still staring at his hands in shock, not believing he had actually lost a Legendary Path Treasure. No… it had been destroyed, right before his eyes.
Just a single slip of his foot and Sylas had turned it to ash.
In that instant of time, the strength of his armor plummeted by a full 50%, if not more. A huge segment of its abilities had become worthless.
He felt like he had lost his soul completely.
Weak.
This was the only thought Sylas had as his Scorned Wraps lengthened once again. He thought he would have to put some effort into dealing with these two opponents, especially when he was under the suffocating effects of the Dungeon.
But it was clear that Jala was incapable of dealing with this setback.
The Scorned Wraps snaked around Jala’s neck, tightening and then pulling. Sylas’ wrap snapped back and Jala soared toward him. Unfortunately, the weapon had to actually be in his hands for Sylas’ intention to kick in, but seemingly sensing that Jala was helpless, the Dungeon stepped in again.
In a flash, Jala was gone, appearing listless in a sphere above, scorched marks layering across his neck.
Sylas didn’t miss a beat, looking toward Israeal, who slowly stood to his feet in the not-too-far-off distance.
A flash of determination came from Sylas’ eyes.
This one he had to kill. He wouldn’t give the Dungeon a chance to set up a three versus one against him.
Sparks of emerald lightning began to spark in his eyes.