Dusk frowned. He had been able to make it into one of the twelve mostly out of luck. Because of the conflict between Sylas and his teammate, he had already been near the portal.
However, he felt like he was one of the weakest here aside from Sylas himself, and yet no one seed eager to challenge Sylas. Was it really because there was still so much ti left?
The more Dusk thought about it, the more natural it seed.
Gaining the Champion Title now would be like putting a huge target on your back. There was no need to place such a burden on yourself so early.
But that was a problem for Dusk.
If he was the weakest Knight, and Sylas' Champion status protected him for the ti being, it ant that the first person to be targeted wouldn't be Sylas… it would be him.
A cold sweat began to form on Dusk's back.
The Knight projections, he could deal with. They were powerful, but their Effectiveness was limited and their intelligence wasn't great.
These people, however…
Just as Dusk was wondering if he should take the risk and challenge Sylas first, there was a change.
Neyara slowly walked forward until she stood before Sylas.
Compared to everyone else who looked like they were ready to step onto a battlefield at any ti, Sylas looked like he had just finished a long day at the office and was getting ready to unwind at a bar with an ice-cold beer.
The look would have been perfect—from the black slacks to the white dress shirt with rolled-up sleeves, even the casual way he placed his hands into his pockets. But there was a catch.
That being the fact his Scorned Wraps were visible and covered in bloody marks, while his hair… it was the hair of a wild man, carrying heavy curls that the wind seed too weak to shift.
Neyara's twin golden katanas rested on her back, her eyes calm as she stood barely a ter from Sylas.
At their strength, even ten ters might as well have been nose to nose. For her to be this close, invading Sylas' personal space, it seed obvious she wanted sothing more than just a chat.
"Who are you?" she asked coldly.
Sylas looked back at her, seemingly not caring to respond.
"If you'd like to not answer, that's fine too. It just ans I'll have to take the risk to fight you."
Sylas still didn't respond and Neyara's eyes couldn't help but narrow.
Unlike the rest of her body, her eyes were quite human, carrying normal whites. But her irises were like burning amber flas, dancing with a battle intent that was hard to describe. Her Will itself also took on this color, reminding one of the ambrosia of the gods—at least, how fairy tales would describe it.
SHIIIIIING.
Neyara unsheathed one of her golden katanas off to the side. With a twist of her wrist, it spun, leaving a thin gash across the earth beneath them, angled toward her back.
She caught the long hilt of her blade and Sylas' notification screen flashed with warnings.
—
[Challenge Issued][Knight Neyara Solune is dissatisfied with your rule]
[Accept this challenge?][Yes][No]
—
Sylas looked at this screen for a short while. Why was it giving him a choice to accept or reject? It felt… odd. This didn't seem like the sort of thing he should have an option with in the first place.
—
[Yes]
—
Neyara felt an odd restriction that had been on her monts ago vanish. However, she didn't move, wariness and confusion coloring her features.
Why hadn't she been able to attack imdiately just now? What was going on?
—
[Knight Neyara Solune accepts her defeat]
[Do you accept?][Yes][No]
Updated first on lightnovelworld.org
—
Sylas' gaze flickered this ti. She gave up? Just like that?
'Interesting.'
Neyara tossed her katana into the air as the result was announced, her blade churning up what felt like hurricane-force winds until it fell and slotted itself back into its sheath.
Without a word, she turned around and returned to her people, her expression hard to read aside from the furrow in her brow. From ti to ti, she looked toward Sylas, but she didn't try to challenge him again.
The odd interaction left those present not really knowing what to do. Even Sylas wasn't expecting such a thing. He wondered if Neyara's Luck was just that high.
To the side, Dusk was speechless, feeling out of place and like he might easily beco the target again. Why hadn't things gone the way they should have?
After the odd interaction, there seed to be an invisible film of invincibility around Sylas, and even fewer were looking toward him—while more were beginning to look toward Dusk.
Of the eleven, three were Neyara and her Race, then there were another two groups of three, followed by Dusk and one more loner. The Lunar Race was Neyara's people, then ca the Enlore Race and the Ravult Race.
And that loner… Dusk didn't know who he was, but his mystery was completely overshadowed by Sylas', and his aura wasn't anything to ss with—leaving Dusk as the odd man out.
Just as Dusk was about to fold under the pressure, the hours beginning to tick by with no sign of movent from anyone else, there was another change that saved him.
The ship of three blocks shook and a pair of young n stepped out of it.
The tir had ticked down to less than 12 hours remaining, and many were beginning to grow restless. But whatever restlessness there was ca to a grinding halt when they saw this pair of young n.
Neyara subconsciously reached for her katana, her heart beating out of her chest.
The Human Race was the most abundant Race across the cosmos, but they were also among the weakest. The few humans capable of shedding that weakness tended to be in a league all their own.
These two were certainly human, but they were no normal humans. They were the Veil Human Race, a B-Grade Race that had conquered an entire Horizon.
Why would they appear in a Horizon that wasn't their own?
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