Silas’s heart pounded in his chest as he realized his mana flow was being disrupted.
He could feel an unknown energy entering his body, and a mana dampener was hindering his ability to cast spells.
Panic washed over him as he realized he was stripped of his greatest strength.
The threat of death had become too real… It was something he had felt of Gilea before, but it wasn’t nearly as bad as now.
Desperation gripped Silas as he assessed the situation. The assassins closed in on him from all sides, their weapons gleaming with elemental hues. He knew he couldn’t rely on his spells anymore. It was just him against the overwhelming odds, fighting for his life and the lives of his teammates.
And at that moment, his mind went into a corner he never wanted to see again.
Fight or flight was a human instinct known to almost all humans.
It was known to beasts too, and even animals.
However, Silas’ instinct was different.
Because whenever Seth Evergreen thinks he’s going to die, something takes over him.
His eyes became empty at the moment, before a flame burned within his eyes, shimmering more brightly than ever before…
Today was not going to be the day he would die.
The absence of mana made him feel vulnerable, exposed to the relentless assault of the assassins.
He felt like he was going to die…
‘I refuse.’
And that was the exact moment the fate of everyone around him was sealed.
[Your “Volition” flame is awakening something deep inside you]
[All your bloodlines are reacting to this awakening]
[…]
[Awakening unsuccessful?]
Using wind fusion, Silas’s body moved with unmatched agility.
He dodged and weaved through the assassins’ attacks, narrowly avoiding deadly blows.
His reflexes were honed to their limits, but with each passing moment, the unusability of mana made it harder and harder to fight back.
He could still feel mana pumping through his veins and mana channels, but other than that, he couldn’t push mana outside his body or even create a spell.
Every time he did, he could feel the spell being destroyed and the runes being dissimilated.
The fight became a chaotic dance of steel and blood. Silas fought with every ounce of his strength, countering the assassins’ strikes with deft movements and precise strikes. His bare fists became his weapons, his body a vessel of sheer determination.
Silas dodged and weaved before sending out deadly attacks. They had all thought they had got him… Even Silas thought they had got him… But even if they had gotten him, he wouldn’t have stopped fighting back.
Blood sprayed through the air as Silas landed blows upon his adversaries.
The assassins, skilled in their craft, retaliated with ferocity, slashing at him with their elemental-infused blades.
Silas endured the pain, his body covered in cuts and bruises, but he refused to yield.
Every second mattered.
Every punch and every moment mattered more than they could ever understand.
Every inch of movement mattered, and he was going to make them count.
Of course, despite how strong and fast he was, the enemies were far too many.
His injuries were beginning to pile up.
Every attack that landed sent a jolt of pain through his body, but instead of crying or roaring out in anguish, the pain felt…
Invigorating.
[You are evolving]
Every time they hit him, Silas couldn’t help but let out a small smile.
A devilish smile.
“What the hell is happening!” Silas heard one of the assassins shout, but it didn’t matter.
Silas quickly spun on his heel and extended his hand.
Next thing he knew, his hand was slashing through the abdomen of the assassin, separating his top from his bottom.
That battle paused for a second, yet Silas was not done.
“You wanted to kill right?” He whispered as his immense killing intent carried his voice into all their ears.
“Then come at me.” Silas threw a barrage of punches toward the nearest assassin, before pummeling him into the ground.
They could not help but shudder at his voice.
Their visions were now tainted with a crimson-red color.
The skies looked like they had been tainted with blood, and the grounds were as red as the grounds of bloody slaughter.
Time seemed to stretch as the battle raged on. Silas’s mind teetered on the edge, his thoughts becoming muddled and erratic. The constant onslaught, combined with the absence of mana, took its toll on his sanity. He couldn’t distinguish the assassins anymore, and his instincts were the only thing pushing him forward, urging him to survive.
With each passing moment, Silas’s movements became more frenzied, more desperate.
Yet, every second of this battle allowed him to improve his technique by just a little more.
He attacked with reckless abandon, his body moving on pure instinct. The assassins, sensing his vulnerability, exploited his wavering state, striking with precise and coordinated maneuvers.
Silas’s mind spiraled further into chaos. The pain blended with adrenaline, forming a maddening cocktail that fueled his relentless assault.
He fought with a primal ferocity, fueled by a desire to survive against all odds.
Yet, despite his valiant efforts, the numbers were against him. The assassins pressed in closer, their blades finding their marks with increasing frequency.
Silas’s body grew weaker, his movements slower, as blood loss and exhaustion took their toll.
The battle became a blur of violence and pain. Silas’s vision dimmed, his consciousness flickering like a dying flame.
These were all people that could rival most amethyst cores. It was to be expected.
Despite his onslaught, he couldn’t hold that same power anymore.
He had unconsciously used metamorphosis to energize him to his peak every time he needed to rejuvenate, but after a while, he was forced to stop when the pain from his core became too much, and the risk of becoming a cripple became too real.
He fought on, driven by sheer willpower, refusing to accept defeat.
His mind was slipping into the state it was in before he had come to Gilea.
Every punch… Every kick…
Every attack that he threw made him a thirst for their blood even more, while every attack that landed on him made him only reach a new stage of madness.
In his final moments of clarity, Silas mustered a burst of strength. He launched himself into one last desperate attack, striking down several assassins in a flurry of blows. But his movements grew sluggish, his body succumbing to the overwhelming fatigue.
“I knew that woman was up to something…” a voice entered Silas’ ear, causing him to look at the being before him with confusion.
“To think you would be able to kill so many of my men despite your age…” The man looked around at his fallen students before clapping his hands and performing a small prayer.
“Hmmm…” The man then turned to Silas again before smiling. Yet, his next words sent a shiver down Silas’ spine.
“I have a tingling feeling that you’re not from here.”
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