No matter how confident Sylas had been, it was impossible for him not to feel his heart constrict. The gap was too large, not just in strength, but in terms of preparation.
He had been caught completely off guard. He had done everything almost perfectly, and yet he ended up nailed to an altar before he even understood what was happening, his blood pooling out of his body and falling to the lake below.
Every single bit of the heat of his body seemed to be being drawn out. Just how many heroes of Earth had to be drained to form a lake of blood so large?
And then Sylas suddenly grew calm.
A pressure on his mind passed over him like a wave, shattering when it came into contact with the depths of his Will Core. His eyes cleared and he looked ahead, a reflective, glasslike texture in his eyes.
A warm fire burned deep within him, a silvery blue flame that encompassed the depths of his soul.
Sylas understood what it was immediately. His Progenitor Flame.
