He would be very surprised if this wasn't related to the "informant" Brant spoke about. He had questioned the latter on some things on the way here, but he hadn't been able to find out much.
All he knew was that the informant, too many people, was more likely an organization rather than just a single person. In this entire region, the large path of forest they had begun calling the Amazonian Wilds, they had their hands in many pies.
When Sylas asked why it was that they called them by the singular, Brant said it was because everyone was contacted by the same androgynous voice, spoken by the same person every single time. But they found it hard to accept that a single person could have such a wide array of knowledge, it didn't make sense.
This aside, he had already been targeted twice, and even though this wasn't a direct assault against him, it was hard for him to separate the matter entirely. This truly felt like the third time.
It couldn't be a coincidence. He didn't believe in such coincidences.
This was all to say that whether he killed all these people or not, it was likely that these attacks would still keep coming. But letting them go might lower the casualty count.
Rakk frowned when he heard Sylas' words.
Why had he come here? Obviously, it was to conquer this city. He had the warriors and the personal skill, so long as he found a city of his own, his strength would skyrocket.
Casstle Main was perfect. It had invested too much into advancement and not enough into personal strength. If he became its City Lord, it would be a melding of two strengths into a true superpower. He had paid quite a pretty penny just to get this information, but now…
This Sylas was truly a wrench in his plans.
Right now, not having a city wasn't a big deal. There were many who would probably bide their time, finding the perfect location before attempting a City Stele Quest. Very soon, the difference between those who controlled cities, or were among the top echelons of one, and those who weren't, would become akin to the haves and have-nots of this world.
He couldn't allow himself to be among the have-nots.
Rakk narrowed his eyes and suddenly put two and two together. Inwardly, he sneered. Clearly, Sylas was afraid of what might happen to the village during their stampede. Why not press on that weakness?
"Go." He said in a gruff voice.
The two Trolls to his back charged toward the village.
Sylas fell into silence.
The ground shook beneath their heavy steps, the roar of clanging armor and shifting Aether riding the wind and buffeting the trees.
He had experienced a lot in this world since he came. The others had experienced three months, and he had experienced just over a week. It was only recently that his Soft Gene State finally ran out.
Despite this, he hadn't really experienced many emotions. The closest he got was when he meditated on his Madness, but there was a difference between recalling memories and experiencing something first hand.
When he killed, his baseline of emotions didn't shift either. He simply did what he felt would garner him the best outcome.
But right now, standing in silence and letting the cool night air lick against his skin…
He suddenly felt angry.
He could see Rakk's intentions in his eyes, the implicit threat that was the undercurrent of his words.
It was the logical thing to do, smart, even. To target your opponent's weakness and capitalize on it. It was something that Sylas himself had done several times already in his short time in this world.
However, on one side, there was his logic.
And on the other, there was something all too rare and nigh foreign to him.
He suddenly felt that he understood those snakes, losing themselves in battle, in rage, in lust.
A ring of red appeared about Sylas' green irises as his Comprehension billowed out in waves.
Grumlok the troll had already appeared before him, swinging down its club with a mighty momentum. The air pressure stung and the wind swing. With the way the moonlight caught the edge of it, one would have almost thought that it was a falling meteor from the skies, heating up beneath the rage of its sheer speed.
Grumlok's head exploded, a spear appearing out the back of its skull.
A Trembling Spear, its blade vibrating with four layered Units of Aether, shone in the night sky.
It left a trail of exploding air in its wake as it accelerated, appearing before Rakk in what felt like an instant.
Rakks' pupils constricted. His black irises seemed to become a whirlpool of sinking shock. Quickly, his Aether circulated and an elaborate shield of silver and blue appeared before him, but the spear tore through it in an instant.
The FFF+ elite used the split moment to raise his staff, ready to retaliate with the spear suddenly exploded, breaking into countless shards that pelted the surroundings.
Rakk felt as though he had been hit by a truck, but little did he know how lucky he was that the spear's Durability had finally given out.
With Madness, Sylas' telekinesis could output a Physical of 121. But with the +200% Strength Effectiveness given by the Trembling Spear, its effective Strength just now was over 350.
Sylas took a step forward, the sword he was wielding with his telekinesis rising up into the air before the spear wielding woman and suddenly jetting out.
He threw a fist, one that was perfectly timed. An illusory green punch following the butt of the sword, driving it into the woman's chest and through her defenses as though they were nothing more than Swiss cheese.
Without even looking toward them, two spears rose into the air, a flood of Aether making them shake and quake. With every second that ticked by, they lost a point of Durability, but he didn't seem to notice.