The process of being sent spiralling across time and space through Yamero's methods wasn't nearly as luxurious as the way the Weaver Guild did things. In fact, it felt like the difference between riding a luxury sedan versus horseback… without a saddle.
If one process could have already left you weak and sick for a time, this one—if it didn't directly kill you—should have left your head spiralling for weeks, if not months. This sort of motion sickness was seeping into your very bones itself until it crushed your very being.
Sylas stepped out from it as though it was a normal teleportation right into the middle of a desert of red sand.
'24 hours.'
That was the time limit Sylas gave himself before he would return to the Weaver Guild.
Not alone.
But with a Glutton's head.
Sylas didn't have any particularly strong hatred for the Glutton. The latter had tried to kill him, but so had many others before him. As far as Sylas was concerned, that was just the way life worked.
