SPLAT.
It was a grotesque, wet noise, one so resonating that the two Sylphs might have even heard it from the afterlife. They had both thought that they had taken Sylas more than seriously enough, but neither could have possibly imagined that they would actually die like this.
But there was no medicine for regret. And even if there was one, they weren't alive to take it.
Sylas coughed up another mouthful of blood as he slowly stood, but there was the very same calmness to him. Even though that flame of rage was still flickering deep within his eyes, he was starting to understand more and more what this world needed from him.
It was still the same two words… Be Strong.
But for some reason, every time he survived a situation like this one, his understanding of those words would warp, ripple, and change as though it was becoming more tangible in a way that was hard to explain.
