Suddenly, Ragnar had two weapons to attack with. His tail swiped out at Sylas’ clone while his spear thrust out at the real Sylas.
However, to his astonishment, his spear went right through this so-called “real Sylas.”
At some unknown point, Sylas had swapped with his clone in the mess of the battlefield.
Ragnar found his scorpion tail pinned to Sylas’ body and his feet practically ripped up and off the floor.
With one elbow pinning the tail to his hip, Sylas twisted, taking a half step back in a curving arc that pulled Ragnar, who had lost his balance attacking nothing but air, toward him.
Sylas’ gaze flared with an intense light as his elbow slammed right into the back of Ragnar’s neck.
The illusory armor shuddered, and Poison Runes snaked up Sylas’ arm. However, he completely ignored them.
Although the armor managed to keep itself together, Ragnar’s head was jarred forward, and his vision swam. The Ravenclaw’s brain rattled around in his skull, and he was disoriented for a full half-second.
By the time he recovered, he found that he had been lifted up and off his feet.
A feeling of danger he had never experienced in his life before overwhelmed him. Ragnar felt death kissing his neck, a sickeningly sweet scent of blood drilling into his nose.
An animalistic sort of instinct, buried deep within his bones, activated at once as his irises, a deep shade of black, overwhelmed his sclera. In that instant, it looked as though his eyeballs had been replaced by a pair of black marbles.
His body reacted on its own, his own Aether drilling through his body and shattering all of his tattoos at once. He didn’t know why he had to do it, but he knew that if he didn’t react fast enough, there would only be death waiting for him.
In that same instant that he reacted, the Scorned Wraps registered Sylas’ attempt to use Ragnar as a weapon.
A scream echoed through the air as large patches of Ragnar’s skin were burned in an inferno. His nigh indestructible armor, until this point, was shredded into a rain of ash.
The moment Ragnar lost control of his body and Sylas began to swing him toward the incoming Ravenclaws, the destruction process had begun.
Luckily for Ragnar, his Ravenclaw Unique Gene had triggered an instinctual will of life preservation. His body reacted on its own, much like his tattoos had, cutting away the danger almost like lopping off a poisonous limb.
Sylas’ gaze flickered as he was somewhat surprised. He had been wondering if Ragnar would lose his life because the tattoos were etched onto his body or if the illusory armor would be seen as a separate entity.
Regardless, he thought the worst case would be Ragnar losing this tough armor of his, and the best case would be Ragnar dying outright.
What he didn’t expect was to get a result smack dab in the middle of the two. Ragnar had survived, but he was practically half dead.
The only shame was that because Sylas had been swinging him around like a weapon, the moment the armor shattered, he was sent flying off into the distance, only to be caught by his people.
‘Those eyes… I was wondering what the Ravenclaw’s Unique Gene was. I’m still not 100% certain, but it seems quite… animalistic.’
“Take him away! Now!”
One of the trusted members of Ragnar’s faction stepped up to block Sylas’ path back to Ragnar, urging the others to bring him away.
Sylas had gotten some information from Sunniva. Most of the core members had protective items on them to hide their stats, but the strongest should be about Level 26. That was a young man who went by Gavren Ravenclaw, and he too wielded a spear.
With Ragnar heavily injured, he took the vanguard while the others rushed Ragnar away, seemingly looking to escape into the portal.
Seeing the situation take a bit of an unfavorable turn, Sylas wasn’t in a rush to dive headfirst into danger again. He looked back toward where the Grimblades were, and they were still locked in battle with the Ravenclaws, who were desperately trying to hold on until the three-day timer was up.
When that time came, the support of the Sylphs would likely not be too far away, and the situation on the ground would change again.
However, whether it was the Grimblades or the Ravenclaws, they all looked more than content to keep Sylas contained. With Sylas not taking the initiative to act, Gavren didn’t make a move to attack him first either, taking a defensive posture.
‘As expected. That really is their plan, and Lucius seems more than willing to allow it to happen. But I don’t think I understand the full extent of it all just yet.’
From the very beginning, things had been odd. Sure, he had caught them off guard by flying through the air, but that didn’t matter if they were waiting for his appearance one way or another.
Not one of them could deal with him on their own, but the Sylphs, on the other hand… well, they would at least have a small chance.
Sylas’ power wasn’t overwhelming. His greatest asset was his intelligence and his ability to take his opponents off guard with methods of combat they had never seen before. Ragnar was a tough opponent, but he could have never guessed that he would lose because he lost his footing for a split second.
The Sylphs, however… they were much more experienced in the ways of this new world, and even if they wouldn’t be prepared for all of Sylas’ tricks, they would certainly have tricks of their own that would be tough for him to react to.
But this plan was still too simple. Sylas didn’t believe that Lucius would be stupid enough to fall for such a thing.
In all likelihood, the real place they wanted to draw him to was the Africor Continent. That was where the real trap resided.
Sylas only thought for a moment before he burst forward.
