This was the only thought that Sylas could have before Zurog was already upon him, or rather… his bloody scythe was.
Sylas barely managed to lean back, dodging out of the way, but a swing came instantaneously.
Zurog was fast. His legs were like their own pumping engines. Just to make it to Sylas so fast, he had to cross over a dozen meters in what felt like a single blink.
Much like Cassarae, he seemed to treat the ground as though it was air, slicing through it with the same ease as the wind. The difference was that he didn't seem to need to use Aether at all.
Sylas was immediately at a disadvantage. The polearm of the scythe was at least two meters from end to end, and the blade itself had an exaggerated bend, along with a ghastly serrated edge. Compared to Sylas' arms and even legs, the difference was too large.
Luckily, Sylas had already shored up this weakness.
