"I would advise you pay very close attention to what I'm saying, otherwise you might die before you understand what's happening to you and why."
Sylas didn't reply. Instead, his fist erupted like a rocket from his side. His gaze reflected an impassive almost carelessness, every aspect of his being pouring everything down to his very bandwidth for emotion itself into his knuckles.
BOOM.
The world folded at its edges.
One looked down at his rib cage, the location Sylas' strike should have landed, and by all rights, did land. But he didn't even move, or flinch, or even look like a decent attack had landed at all.
Even a toddler's punch to a mortal would have had some sort of reaction. But one might have thought that a gust of wind had passed by instead.
"Was that supposed to be an attack?" One asked, blinking at Sylas' fist as though asking him a genuine question.
