[900 GTs bonus]

His hand rose into the skies and he pointed toward the two trolls charging toward the village.

Astral Bind.

In that moment, the two behemoths froze in place, unable to move a single inch. For every 10% gap and 0.5 Units of Aether, Sylas froze them for an entire second. Just one pulse of half a Unit was enough to freeze them for almost five seconds.

Rakk was disoriented after the explosion, his head spinning. He couldn't quite understand what was happening, but when he finally managed to struggle up, he found a scene that was nothing short of absolute carnage.

Sylas was almost certain that these Trolls were Rakk's summons, which also meant, more likely than not, he'd have some sort of method to help them break free…

But did it matter when the man couldn't even think straight?

His group couldn't withstand even a single swipe of those spears. Sylas skewered their chests through one after another before those two spears likewise exploded.

Dead. All dead.

"Where…?" Rakk's head snapped toward his Trolls, only to realize they were bound in place, being assaulted by a group of people who couldn't even leave a scratch on them. "A bind? No, break free!"

He circulated his Aether, preparing to unleash a Skill when a fist appeared before his forehead, smashing him into the ground again.

Sylas' hand rose into the air, an illusory green hand forming around Rakk's throat and squeezing over it tightly.

Fatigue was beginning to pull at his body, but he didn't seem to notice, his cool, green eyes rounded by a ring of red, looking into Rakk's own as he squeezed the life out of him.

Rakk began to foam at the mouth, scratching and clawing at the hand on his throat, only to pass through air and scratch himself bloody.

Sylas could feel his blood boiling, his earlier rage not having abated in the slightest.

Just when the trolls were about to break free, Sylas cast Astral Bind on them once more, seemingly not realizing that dual-casting a Skill shouldn't have been so easy.

Something suddenly dawned on Sylas. In the midst of a sea of blood, buried beneath layers of an irrational protective urge… there was a kernel of rationality that remained.

This was what the system deemed to be an FFF+ of humanity…?

Why was he so…

Weak?

This was the best they had…? What chance did they have to survive at the end of all of this?

The ring of crimson slowly faded from Sylas' eyes, and he could suddenly feel the great drain on his body. He had had Aetherflow activated for so long that the paths of Aether hidden within his body were screaming. His torso was both cramping and aching as though he had just been branded by a hot iron.

"Who sent you?" Sylas asked in a voice that was far raspier than he expected. His throat seemed to have dried out, his body overheating. His heart was threatening to beat out of his chest, thrumming with such fervor he thought it might want to shatter the very ribcage protecting it from the harshness of the world.

Sylas shook his head as Rakk's eyes rolled into the back of his skull. What was he doing? How could the man even answer in this situation?

He raised his head and looked toward the trolls again.

'Good…' he thought. It had taken some time, but ten seconds frozen was too much, even for a creature with almost 250 Constitution. He couldn't even see how many spears and swords had been driven through their eyes from his vantage point. They practically made them into a twin set of bouquets.

Rakk's body began to convulse due to the lack of air, no longer having the strength to claw at his throat, which was lacerated by blood wounds caused by none other than his own hands.

Sylas tossed the man to the ground and impaled a spear through his hip, much like he had done for Brant. However, he made a mental note that he had to be much more careful. He couldn't read this man's stats even though he didn't seem to be using an active Skill. That could only mean that he either had a passive ability, or his Mental somehow surpassed Sylas' own.

'It can't be that simple. I've been able to scan others who had higher Mentals than me due to Madness. But I'm stone-walled here… he is very dangerous even if he can't move.'

Sylas swayed and pressed a hand against his forehead. He knew that he was ignoring something important… just now, he had really lost himself to his emotions. It had been… a very, very long time since that had happened. In fact, the last time…

His mind flashed with memories of an arrogant jerk.

He shook his head, not wanting to think about those thoughts.

He distracted himself by watching the final strokes the group levied at the last troll. The militiamen, Lauren, Alex, Morgan… Olivia, Cassarae…

They all fought together, bringing it down.

A wooziness blurred Sylas' vision. His consciousness faded in and out until he realized what was wrong… his heart… it really was beating a little too fast…

He pressed a hand to his chest, the discomfort steadily growing.

'Wait—'

Sylas' head snapped back toward a particular direction, and to his surprise, his gaze landed on Lauren. He was practically boring holes into her, and yet he couldn't understand why.

--

[Lauren Mitchell]

[Level: 1]

--

[Physical: 31]

[Mental: 17]

[Will: 13]

--

He remembered her stats perfectly, and they were identical to the first time he had seen them… but why did they show up like that? Why couldn't he see the…

Sylas' eyes widened and he suddenly burst forward, a raging tempest in his heart. The avalanche of beats, as persistent as a rain of boulders falling from a mountain's peak, beat against his chest.

But he was still a step late.