Everything else was black, and all Rhys could see in front of him was Sylas West; his long, white combed hair, the only light in this darkness he found himself in. And if it disappears, then so will Rhys.
But he knew, he knew the thing in front of him was not actually Sylas, but imagining it was him was the only thing he could really do — to imagine what would happen if he just smashed his fist straight onto his smirking face.
His head would just probably disappear into existence. Sylas may be a Noble from one of the strongest Olympians, but the blood he was carrying in his veins is primarily an Elemental — as long as he catches him off guard with Ayesha's strength, that would be it.
And as Rhys's fist got closer and closer to the image of Sylas, everything suddenly returned to him as he remembered where he was. Sylas, now only just a bipedal training machine; its silhouette, entirely metallic and skeletal.
