Sylvara's Rebirth A New Dawn for Abel novel Chapter 128

**Chapter 128: Caught in the Crosshairs**

The tension in the air was palpable as they seized General Shefferhem by the neck, their eyes glinting with menace. “General Shefferhem,” one of them hissed, “you possess knowledge that is far too dangerous, and your experience makes you a liability. Tell us, do you have any collector’s edition adult films stashed away?”

The threat hung in the air like a storm cloud. “Hand them over, and we might just spare your life,” they continued, their grip tightening.

Agares, unfazed, tapped his optical computer. The screen flickered to life, replaying a video that had been edited to perfection. At the beginning and end, all that remained was a girl clad in red camouflage, her face obscured. The footage showcased her kicking another girl down and pressing her foot onto the fallen girl’s face for a full five seconds—a brutal display.

As the video concluded, a message from the sender blinked onto the screen: “Agares, look. Your wife has such long legs!”

Agares chuckled softly, “Sylvie, I think my stamina’s really improving,” he remarked, a hint of pride in his voice.

Meanwhile, Veyric sprinted after Sylvara, his energy seemingly boundless. “I’m feeling great!” he exclaimed, his breath steady despite the rapid pace.

Sylvara, however, kept her gaze fixed ahead, a frown creasing her brow. The forest around them thickened, transforming from a mere backdrop into an oppressive presence. What once felt like an easy six to nine miles an hour now seemed like an arduous task.

The ground beneath their feet was treacherous—decaying leaves and splintered branches created a slick surface. One wrong step could lead to disaster, and she felt the weight of that danger pressing down on her.

“Congrats! That means the training is clearly working for you. Unlike me, I’m just pushing through,” Sylvara said modestly, her tone almost maternal, as if she were reassuring a child.

Veyric, the child in this scenario, beamed with confidence. “The longer I run, the better I feel! If you get tired, I’ll carry you!” he boasted, his youthful bravado shining through.

“I can still manage for a bit longer,” Sylvara replied, but suddenly, she felt a surge of mental energy ripple through her.

Her expression changed, a flicker of concern crossing her face. In an instant, she seized Veyric, who was moving so quickly he seemed to defy gravity.

Caught off guard, Veyric stumbled, tipping backward and landing flat on his back with a resounding thud.

Sylvara halted abruptly, staring at her own hand in disbelief. I barely touched him. Why was he so easy to pull down?

“What are you do—” Veyric began, but she silenced him with a finger pressed to her lips.

“Shh!” she urged, her voice barely above a whisper.

Veyric, understanding the urgency, clamped a hand over his mouth, dirt and all.

Sylvara pointed toward the ten-thirty position. “There’s an ambush—six of them.”

Veyric scrambled to his feet, gasping for breath. “We’re not even on a marked route. Are they really crazy enough to set up camp here too?”

Sylvara shot him a sharp glance. “So it’s acceptable for us to go off-script, but they can’t lie in wait? What kind of logic is that?”

Veyric coughed, frustration evident in his voice. “They’re not playing fair! They’re going back on their word.”

Sylvara raised her hand as if to smack him. “They’d argue that you’re the one fighting dirty for not sticking to where they expected you to be.”

Veyric stared at her incredulously, “Whose side are you even on?”

“Wait! Come back! I’m not ready yet!” Veyric called after her, his heart racing.

But Sylvara paid him no mind. As she closed in on the ambushers, she snapped her fingers, signaling the moment of action.

Veyric suddenly felt an odd sensation beneath his feet, as if the ground itself was shifting. A scream escaped his lips as he stumbled forward, propelled by an unseen force.

The ambushers, alerted by his cry, sprang from their hiding spots, weapons raised and aimed directly at him.

In that critical moment, Sylvara charged in, brandishing the self-defense spray that Malcolm had gifted her. With a swift motion, she unleashed a cloud of it at the ambushers.

The spray shot out over ten feet, enveloping the attackers in a thick mist.

No shots rang out. The ambushers recoiled, instinctively shielding their eyes from the onslaught.

Seizing the opportunity, Sylvara picked up a sturdy branch, her mental energy coiling around it like a serpent. She swung it with precision, striking the hands of the ambushers, the force of her blows igniting pain that felt like needles and fire.

The cries of the ambushers echoed in the air as they dropped their weapons, disarmed and bewildered.

Sylvara dove forward, low to the ground, sweeping her foot in a fluid motion. The fallen guns flew into her hands, and she leveled them at the ambushers, firing one shot each into their shoulders.

The blank rounds detonated with a burst of red smoke, signaling their elimination.

With that, the two ambushers slumped down, no longer a threat, and the forest fell silent once more.