Sylas looked at the trident pointed at him, feeling as though all of the Aether in the surroundings was falling toward this young man.
It was the same black hole–like feeling he had gotten from the 713th Whale Warlord. And just his luck, he had gotten placed with a Whale Warlord in the middle of an ocean.
"Which Sanctum do you come from?" Sylas asked.
"Sanctum 018." He replied, his trident still steady. "And yourself?"
"073."
The eyes of Authrione narrowed. He had expected a low number—just not that low.
"Will you give in? Or are you going to make me kill you?"
Sylas' gaze only flickered once and his Armor bloomed across his body. One shingle after another fell into a place of perfection until he was radiating such bright hues of emerald it seemed as though he had become the shining star of this world.
The pupils of Authrione constricted into pinholes. He knew a powerful Armor when he saw one.
"… Spark Master…"
