Chapter 1225: Test (2) [Bonus]
Countless gazes landed on Sylas again. They were clearly familiar with the path, only having backed off once the man started speaking.
The Duchess’ head snapped out and her initial instinct was to protest before she stopped herself. How embarrassing *would* that be?
Before the words could even finish echoing, though, Sylas had already stood up. There was an almost lazy look in his eyes as though he was quite finished with tonight’s festivities.
“I believe I was invited here by you for a calm evening,” Sylas spoke to Ansla quite candidly. “It seems that these things are only getting more annoying, though.”
Ansla blinked, her eyes widening. Her mind was still too blank, and she didn’t understand what Sylas was doing. Wasn’t this his idea? Why was he suddenly angry with her now?
What she didn’t realize was that her initial confusion and then subsequent anger was the exact sort of reaction Sylas wanted.
“What are you—?!”
Ansla stopped talking, suddenly realizing where they were now.
Sylas shook his head, turning to walk away and leave.
He played every part the brash, arrogant fool who didn’t know his place. It seemed like Sylas was being influenced by the True Pride Seed, but this wasn’t the case at all. In fact, this was his plan all along. As for the reasons he was doing this, maybe only he knew.
But what was certain was that these opponents were too powerful to deal with through normal means.
The Hollow Wing, Alex, and Jala were out trying other methods, but from what he could tell, they wouldn’t work. Even if they found Megean, it wouldn’t change the fact he needed a method to actually clear this Dungeon, or whatever this was.
“Hoho,” the Sanguan chuckled. “My banquets aren’t so easy to leave.”
Sylas’ next step was frozen in place. Across the hall, a servant coughed up a mouthful of blood. It was just a droplet, but it felt like it was a heavy weight tied to a rope connected to the rest of his inner organs. All at once, all the blood in his body was ripped out, and he wasn’t even the target.
Sylas was only frozen in place and the man didn’t try to harm him, but the powerful influence of the Skill alone caused the death of a servant.
The cloaked man inhaled, and the blood and inner organs of the servant were sucked into the face of darkness that hid his complexion.
Smacking his lips, he smiled to himself.
“Father,” the Duchess hissed.
The man blinked. “Hm?”
He looked over, seemingly surprised his daughter actually said something. The Duchess was actually trying to be covert and had used some methods to hide her voice, but her father’s sudden turn to her basically exposed what happened, leaving her flushed.
She grit her teeth, suddenly wanting to rip both her father and Sylas’ throats out. What the fuck was wrong with men?!
The man’s eyes, the only thing visible about him, blinked as though in innocent curiosity as to what his daughter wanted to say. But seeing her too embarrassed to say anything else, he turned back toward Sylas’ back.
Even now, Sylas was still frozen in place.
Inwardly, Sylas couldn’t help but frown. It felt like his blood was running cold and in reverse all at once.
’They control blood. Interesting.’
He actually didn’t know much about Demons. What he knew about Charysm was very limited and only found because he very deliberately scoured all of the resources he could find for mentions of them in specific, or in passing, or in allegory… it was a very complex process.
Doing that for other Noble Demons was impossible since he had no frame of reference to begin with.
But Sylas wasn’t worried. He had expected to be stopped, though this method wasn’t one he was expecting.
He had adapted once before, and he would adapt again.
The man cleared his throat. “Okay, now let’s try this again.”
Sylas found his body slowly turning back on its own until he faced the man from across the room.
“I think we’ll have to test you a bit to see if you’re worthy of participating. As far as I know, you’re no official member of the Barbed Chain Gang and are an unaffiliated Demon. In that case, these proceedings would be too important for a nobody.
“Ebison.”
“Yes, yes—!” Ebison quickly stood to his feet as though compelled to, his thick, spade-ended tail almost knocking his chair over.
“Hm, maybe a bit too unfair. What do you think, darling?”
The man looked toward the Duchess again and only got her teeth bared at him. There were small little canines in those pearly whites that hadn’t been obvious before, but they only got a chuckle from the man.
“Seems there’s no need to consider this further. Of course this would be no challenge, F-tier or not. Ebison, you’ll be a bit of a sparring partner for the new one. Defeat him within 100 moves or you lose your life. Oh, and you’re free to kill if you so please, I can’t possibly have the energy to stop such a thing.”
Ebison blinked for a moment, not believing his luck.
He had never seen the Duchess before, none of them had. But the moment they did, it felt almost silly to have been chasing Ansla all the while.
Even so, he wasn’t a fool. He wasn’t strong enough to pursue the Duchess—it was better he know his place.
But was this an opportunity, maybe?
“I’m not interested in your daughter,” Sylas said plainly.
The man’s eyes suddenly sharpened, his gaze landing on Sylas. In such a situation, Sylas shouldn’t have been able to talk at all. He knew how annoying this boy’s mouth could be and preferred not to deal with it at all. And yet, Sylas’ voice had projected anyway.
“Oh? I don’t remember saying anything about my daughter.”
The man didn’t wait for Sylas to speak again. Waving a hand, the latter’s blood was practically ripped out of him, only blocked by his skin itself as he was pulled through the air, slamming into the depressed floor where he had just danced with the Duchess.
BANG!
“Alright, you may begin.”
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