Sylvester held on to the spear for dear life, not letting go no matter what. The downward pull was ever so increasing on his body as more and more hands came from below and shrouded him in darkness. They also tried to grab his hands and pull down the spear entirely.
At one point, the spear began to creak as if it was getting dislodged. A sense of fright ran through his heart, but Sylvester felt more concerned about the unconscious Miraj, and worried that the hands might try to take him away from him.
'My halo and light aren't helping either… Ugh, I should've stuck to scheming until I reached the top.' Sylvester muttered, disappointed in himself that he had gradually relied more on his physical powers than his mental abilities.
He forgot one simple rule—if you think you've got a big stick, there will always be someone with a bigger one. But if you have a bigger brain, you can win even with a small stick.
