Blood leaked from the corners of Sylas’ lips, his body rattling with pain. The response was involuntary, no amount of Will was going to change anything. And he felt that intimately.
"Still no?"
Aki shook his head.
"I’m not sure why you’re being so stubborn. I’m sure you know that I have many more abilities than what I’ve shown. If you’re waiting for an opportunity to reverse the situation, it doesn’t exist."
Aki released Sylas’ throat once again, this time launching two fists. They blurred through the air, claps of thunder ringing out with their movement. And yet, when they landed, the echoes overlapped, making it sound as though just one had landed.
In Sylas’ body, though, he could intimately feel both. It was like two drills, rotating in opposite directions, clashing and churning in his body.
He knew by now that this was the special ability of the Tiger Warlord Armor. Even blunt attacks held the sharpness of slashing claws and gnawing bites. There was an extra bit of pain to every strike, and it wasn’t just an illusion.
Sylas could tell that if Aki wasn’t holding back in order not to kill him too quickly, his inner organs would have truly been turned to mush already.
It was getting hard even to breathe. Every breath not only carried the fire of smoldering lava, but the sharp, etching pain of tiny blades grinding against his chest and diaphragm.
Aki asked the same question, just as patiently, every time. And then, he would unceremoniously attack.
At some point, it didn’t even feel like Aki was expecting an answer; he was just having fun. He asked the question out of habit, and the time he waited before attacking was getting just the slightest bit shorter every time.
By the sixth or seventh time he asked, the attempts blurring together in Sylas’ mind, he was sending out series of combos, a light, almost airy chuckle coming from his lips.
It didn’t seem like he remembered his original purpose. Like a toddler tossing around a toy, he railed against Sylas again and again, only stopping as he started to notice bruises blooming across Sylas’ torso.
"Oh my, it seems I’ve gone too far. Sorry, sorry."
These weren’t bruises at all, at least not in the normal sense. The grotesque blotches of pale green and dark violet were signs of internal bleeding. If this continued, he really might accidentally kill Sylas.
He caught Sylas’ neck again, patting his cheek with a palm.
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