Sylas wasn't slow. He analyzed the situation quickly and knew that it was likely time to leave. He wouldn't be taking down this village today. However, he would be taking down this outpost.
His telekinesis flourished, and he was about to press down forcefully to dispel the Skill when he had another thought. Enchanted Scribe activated, and the orb of silver-blue that protected the two pig demons reflected in his eyes almost like an array of numbers and symbols.
He found a weak point, and immediately understood that the pig demon had only grasped this Skill to Common Mastery. He suppressed the thought and focused his telekinesis, ripping into the weak point. The shield popped like a balloon, and he quickly dispelled Enchanted Scholar, activating Basic Aetherflow in the next instant.
His body churned, and he sent out two fists. Fists of emerald green soared through the air, colliding against the heads of the pig demons and sending them flying. All the while, Sylas never stopped moving. The sole of his foot pivoted and pressed hard against the edge of the log wall. He soared forward in a parabolic arc, grabbing onto the outpost and pulling himself up, ready for a fight.
However, he found that both Level 8s were already dead. He took their corpses and snatched the ballistic bolts. With swift steps, he returned to the edge of the outpost and kicked it down just like he had the other.
However, it was at that moment he sensed something that rocked his senses. The harsh whistling came first, and then it entered his visualization, appearing like a bolt of black lightning in his senses. But Sylas knew what it was before it entered that range. There was only one thing that it could be. They had fired a ballista at him, uncaring about the lives and deaths of their companions.
The moment Sylas had this thought, the bolt ripped through the thin wooden walls of the outpost. The size of the outpost was too small. It was just enough for two people, and you would be hard-pressed to find enough space for ten to stand shoulder to shoulder. Most of that space was even taken up by the baskets of ballista bolts that Sylas had already put away. It could be said that this wasn't a comfortable job at all. Just by aiming in the middle, Sylas felt like he had nowhere to dodge.
All the hairs on Sylas' body stood on end. In that moment, his mind split six ways, and his potential was bursting at the seams. He cast two s in quick succession, reaching forward with two hands for his third action, and then forming another pair of hands for his fourth and fifth.
The ballista bolt ripped through his pair of shields as though they were nothing more than tissue paper. The moment they ripped through, Sylas' hands clamped down on its body, trying to keep it away from his chest. At the same time, his secondary pair of illusory hands gripped the body of the bolt, pulling with all the force it could muster.
Sylas' eyes bulged as it felt like all of it still wasn't enough. Time seemed to slow as the bolt pierced through the side of his chest. He realized in that moment that saving his last split mind to dispel a technique had been worthless. It was all pure mechanical power, there was nothing to disperse.
However, that was when his nose erupted with a rain of blood. ! Since there was no technique attached to it, there was nothing stopping him. His Aether roared, but the problem was that the Physical of the ballista bolt was far beyond 200 Physical which was the limit of . Trying to change its direction now, especially in the opposite direction, was a fool's dream.
However, when it all came together, Sylas felt his ribs crack and then the Scorned Wraps activated, burning the bolt to ash. Sylas coughed up a mouthful of blood, feeling that his Aether was running on empty thanks to his stupid use of , and his mind felt like it was screaming, having given it everything it had.
However, he knew that he had to go. BANG! The sound echoed through the night and Sylas knew a second bolt was coming. His heart leapt to his throat, but this time, he was much luckier… somewhat.
The good news was that the bolt didn't strike as true this time. It still hit the outpost, but skewed enough that it wasn't directly aimed at Sylas, likely as an attempt to corner him in case the first missed.
The bad news was exactly that… it hit the outpost. The outposts could be considered the bare minimum. The moment they were hit by two ballistas, its foundations crumbled. Sylas felt the roof above his head collapsing, and the outpost swayed, falling over.
He coughed again, feeling spikes of pain roaring through him. He pulled on his Madness hard, trying to focus his mind. The pain dulled, and his mind seemed to truly focus for a moment.
Taking advantage, he leapt through the open box windows. Falling to the ground even faster than the slowly tilting outpost.
'Dammit, it's coming toward me.' The situation felt like it was going from bad to worse. No matter how shabbily built it was, Sylas couldn't afford to let the outpost fall him.
He quickly put the ballista from earlier into the Madness Key and rushed toward the wall, ignoring the stabbing pain in his chest. He could feel the Effectiveness of his stats plummeting even more clearly now, and he didn't have the Aether to counter it.
In that moment, Sylas decisively chose to start a Fusion. But who knew that it would fail because he was considered too injured? It was only then he remembered that when he first contracted the Basilisk King, there was a period of time he couldn't use it because he had injured it too severely.
Sylas' gaze turned grave. He knew that the situation was bad. BOOM! He managed to get out of the way of the outpost.
'My mind is the only thing I have left, and barely at that.' Making a decision, Sylas picked up the torches that were beginning to burn the ground and threw them full force into the village behind him.
However, it was then he felt something spine-tingling. He couldn't help but look back to see a man approaching from the far-off distance. For some reason, he was glowing in the darkness, following along a line of torches… making his skin look blue.
[Azrael Orciulius (???)]