Sylas stepped out of his pod, his expression completely unreadable. He looked down at his shirt for a mont, and with a wave of a hand, it was swapped for a new one, his sunglasses still firmly attached to his face.
He rounded the rails, ignoring even the likes of Bellarouse and Furon as they stepped out of their own pods. Maybe due to the fact that they were the ones in Sylas’ presence from the very start, they were also the only ones that felt the pressure of his superiority so clearly.
Even if they understood what those on their side were trying to do, they didn’t have the face to partake themselves.
They simply lowered their heads, while Sylas himself didn’t seem to have noticed that anything was wrong.
When he walked back into the hall, the only thing that gave away that he had been the man on the screen just now was the incredibly pale look on his face.
His gait was steady, but only barely. A cold sweat had made his hair more damp than it would otherwise be, while his new dress shirt was already beginning to cling to his body.
Cassarae stood across from him, still wearing his trench coat draped across her shoulders. There was a deathly intent in her eyes hidden behind the indifference, but she didn’t say a word.
It was instead Gwenu who pounced. But seemingly realizing that Sylas was too weak at the mont, she decided against actually leaping into his arms, although she very much wanted to make Cassarae blow her top.
"As expected of my junior brother. You really kicked their asses out there."
"And his own ass, apparently," Magnus said with a snort. "Look at him. Hurry up and find him a hospital bed."
"If you’d like to break your nose in, we can arrange that," Gwenu said with a cold glare.
"Can you arrange that?" Magnus’ sneer deepened. "Last ti I seem to rember you running from with your tail between your legs. Maybe you’d be better at warming a bed than you are at fighting. I can actually arrange that if you’d like."
Gwenu’s smile beca dangerous.
"Is that how you rember it? I seem to rember more than a single one of you coming at , actually. My hand just so happened to slip and I can’t rember... whose head did I cut off, again? Why don’t you remind ?"
Magnus’ eyes flashed with an equally dangerous light.
At that mont, the aura of a D-tier that was infinitely close to the C-tier flourished. The chirping and clicking carapace of a scorpion rippled through the air, every snap and gnaw grating on their souls.
"I wonder why it is everyone seems to forget that these two have a senior brother here. Are you under the impression that little Gwenu is the only one with an itchy trigger finger?"
The scent of poison pooled across the air, the bristling spikes on Khan’s body waving like corals in the ocean.
Many took an involuntary step back as the deathly poison made their stomachs invert and churn.
Only the D-tier of the Thryskai grabbed at their weapons, their eyes wary.
They knew better than anyone the curse of Khan’s Race. In a one-on-one battle, maybe it was still fine. But if a mber of this Race was already dead set on dying...
They could almost guarantee to drag whoever they wanted dead with them.
Khan snorted and looked away before patting Sylas’ shoulder.
"Those who can’t do, talk."
"It’s ’those who can’t do, teach,’ idiot..." Gwenu mumbled.
"I’m taking creative liberties," Khan said with a cough.
"The E-tier round will start now."
"Shit, I have to call the others—" Gwenu started.
"Don’t bother," Sylas said—the first words he had spoken since he returned. There was a calmness and steadiness in his voice that didn’t seem to match the state of his body at all.
Gwenu blinked. "Sylas, I get that you’re great, but we can still—"
"I’m going. You and I are enough."
Gwenu’s eyes opened wide.
...
"What the hell is going on here? Has the Golden Grove grown mad?"
The hustle and bustle in the Central Hub was only growing. After the excitent of the F-tier round, many who had lagged in their response the first ti were eager to get in on the action.
No one thought that sothing as exciting as another Spark Master would appear, but before the next round started, there was still a lot of hype and hope, so at least for now, there was still a ton of fanfare.
Plus, Gwenu and the other participants of the E-tier were also quite popular, especially after news of her killing a Thryskai spread. Many wanted to see her performance.
However, this...
Why was Sylas Grimblade there to be bet on in the E-tier as well? And what the hell were those odds?
The odds were just as in favor of Sylas as they had been in the F-tier. aning, only if you bet in the millions would you make a few crumbs for betting on Sylas. But if you bet against him and he lost, you would make money hand over fist.
Would the Golden Grove even be capable of paying out such a sum?
It had already seed ridiculous at the F-tier, but many had been proven wrong. Seeing it again, it seed obvious to bet on Sylas’ loss. But...
Were the Golden Grove tricking them again?
That was when news of a very convenient sort began to spread. News of Sylas making the strongest warrior of the Golden Grove bow in obedience, how Old Brama, the backbone of the rchant guild, had beco a lapdog.
Suddenly, it all "made sense." Sylas seed to want to sway public sentint back in his favor with these betting odds. From the start, the Golden Grove was in his back pocket, and now he was about to bankrupt them.
...
In a garage rented toward the edges of the Central Hub, sparks flew as Old Brama worked on a new ch with a blazing torch. His face was practically ashen white with fury.
But his sneer was even deeper.
"Uh oh, the old man looks angry," Alex said with a cough. "It’s fine, when he sees the money we make, he’ll brighten right up. Then he’ll flatten a few of the talkers with his big ch feet and sleep with a smile on his face again."
Jala didn’t say anything, his worry growing as he watched the bets roll in.
He, along with too many others, had the sa thought.
The Golden Grove was finished, and Sylas’ reputation along with it.
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