A village couldn’t run without money, and they certainly couldn’t make more in this situation.
So when Gregory called her, she didn’t even register it for a full five seconds.
“Oh, right. Yes, come in,” she called.
Gregory walked in and bowed. Cassarae had gotten tired of telling him not to do that, and just acquiesced.
“Miss Olivia has reported that Sir Sylas has appeared.”
Cassarae suddenly stood up straighter. “… No, this is bad.”
Her immediate reaction was to let him in, but it took time to deploy the barrier. In those seconds, it would be a simple matter for them to break in.
She gritted her teeth. This was a problem that wouldn’t just disappear the moment the Trial ended, anyway. Shouldn’t they go all-out in an attempt to stop it?
“Take the barrier down,” Cassarae suddenly said.
Gregory frowned. “City Lady… this…”
“Take it down. Now.”
Cassarae grabbed her longsword, which was sheathed and leaning against her desk. Gripping its sheath tightly, she took long steps toward the door, ready to take action herself.
Gregory hurriedly followed after, trying to make a last-ditch attempt to change her mind, but…
“That’s enough!” Cassarae snapped, barely holding back the curses threatening to roll from her tongue. “Call the militiamen and adventurers. Prepare the villagers for retreat. We move now.”
Cassarae’s steps became even faster as she descended to the first floor of her cabin and opened the door with a snap.
Quickly, she closed the distance toward a barrier of light guarded by two militiamen, and stepped by them after receiving a nod from both. She clenched her jaw and interfaced with the window, shutting it all down.
…
Sylas felt like flashbangs of color were erupting in his mind. The night felt so bright and illuminated that it was almost as though the sun hadn’t set at all.
In his vision, the arc of the sword reflected not just where it was, but also where it had been and where it was going.
He activated
He side-stepped the swing of the sword, but it arched back up instantaneously, aiming for the fragile flesh of his legs defended by little more than his fluttering loose pants.
Sylas didn’t retreat like the swordsman expected. Instead, a barrier appeared right at his feet and a punch shattered a head into a rain of sparkling crimson.
The droplets of blood and mashed meat of flesh glittered particularly brightly amidst Sylas’ visualization. It felt like he was seeing life, and its relation with death, more clearly now than he ever had before.
The others clearly didn’t expect one of their own to fall so quickly, but their shock changed nothing. The grip strength of the swordsman faltered as his sword was ripped out from his possession, slashing out in a beautiful arc that was eerily reminiscent of his first attack against Sylas.
CLANG!
In a pincer of two, one defended against the sword strike while Sylas closed in on the other.
A spear swept out, only to clash against Sylas’ earlier cast of
‘… Weak,’ Sylas thought, while his movements suddenly accelerated.
He had thought that the combined attacks of two of these elites would use up the 200 Physical that the shield could withstand, so he had lagged behind in his response a bit. But a single use of Sudden Burst quickly made up for that.
As the spearman reeled from the shock to their wrists, Sylas unleashed a tail whip and a maelstrom of Aetherflow, bowing the man’s head with such momentum that his bone shards splattered akin to the eruption of a grenade.
The gore splattered against his ally, who was still occupied by the flight of a telekinesis-driven sword.
Rakk was taken aback. He had only turned his attention to the trolls for but a moment to call one forward, and yet two of his companions had fallen in such quick succession.
Who was this monster?
‘Grumlok! Forward!’ He roared in his mind.
At that moment, the barrier that had hounded them for days already was taken down, changing the situation entirely.
Sylas sighed inwardly. He knew this would happen, but this unfortunately made things a lot more complicated for him.
The group could barely stand up against the Rotten Wolves. How would they fare against this group of monsters? He would likely have to overextend himself. Either that, or he would need to make a display of power so grand that they chose to run away on their own.
His gaze flickered as he noticed a charging Cassarae, moving so fast that her longsword, dragging behind her, seemed to be able to ride on the wind. Her gaze was filled with determination, and she didn’t look toward him even once…
Likely because she knew just how disapproving his gaze would be.
CLANG!
The sword under the control of Sylas’ telekinesis slashed out in an arc eerily reminiscent of Tail Whip, forcing the female warrior back.
“I’ll give you all a single chance,” Sylas suddenly spoke, his Madness flourishing and touching their minds for a single instant before pulling away.
They all felt the touch on their psyches, but it registered like an oppression due to the brevity.
“I don’t know why you’re attacking Casstle Main, but leave now and we can end this here. I do not know where you come from, nor who sent you. It would be an easy matter for you to go.
“If you choose not to, I will make you suffer even worse casualties.”
Sylas spoke calmly. He was still surrounded by over half a dozen warriors, not to mention the Troll that was looming overhead, or Rakk, who was a wildcard he wasn’t certain he could account for.
But nonetheless, he had to speak these words. Although letting them go was its own form of trouble, he was working with a different set of information now.
