Sylas answered back, voice as calm as a honeybee on a sunny day.
"Well, of course, dear Tristan. I am the chosen one, after all."
Upon hearing this statement, Vael got the intense urge to rip his ears off and throw them at the one responsible.
'The chosen one. Are we deadass? Who does this guy think he is? I could have him on the floor in an instant, but even I don't see myself as an overpowered maniac who inherited heaven's favor. And I'm a regressor, for fuck's sake!'
"You sure are!" continued Tristan. He might as well be chewing Sylas' food for him then spitting it directly in his mouth.
Honestly, Vael didn't know what to do. On one hand, he could rack up quite a bit of points by killing two top twentiers, enough to take the lead.
His smirk tilted toward Option 2. Some performances deserved a front-row seat before the bloodshed.
"Show it to me again!" Tristan begged, bouncing on his heels. "I'm amazed every time!"
*Well, thank you, Tristan.* Vael rolled his eyes. *Now I don't have to ask.*
Sylas sighed like a martyr. "Ahh, I'm quite tired..." A dramatic pause. "But for you, I'll do it."
Tristan's face lit up like he'd been handed the keys to paradise.
*Holy shit.* Vael leaned forward. *What the hell could this ability POSSIBLY be?*
The broken stick in Sylas's hand shimmered—an eerie blue glow licking along its length. The wood twisted, thickened, warping like melting wax until—
A dagger.
Just a simple dagger.
"My ability," Sylas announced, voice dripping with faux humility, "is called Reality Manipulation. No attribute. Just... the most broken power in this world."
For the first time in years, Vael's brain short-circuited.
*WHAT.*
Not magic. Not runes. *Reality itself* bent to this little shit's whims. No wonder he walked around like he owned the damn sky.
He did!
Vael had seen enough.
Tristan's awestruck gaze remained locked on Sylas's reality-warped dagger—right up until Vael's blade severed his spinal cord.
The fat swordsman's head hit the dirt with a wet thump. Sylas scrambled backward, his divine-chosen composure shattered.
"*Thank you* for that demonstration," Vael said, stepping over Tristan's dissolving corpse. "Fascinating ability. But 'heaven's chosen'? Doubt it."
Sylas hurled his weapon—a wild, panicked throw. Vael sidestepped without blinking.
"N-no! This wasn't—*space*?!" Sylas's babbling ended abruptly as Vael's rapier found his chest.
Two more bodies vanished into the exam's resurrection system.
The rankings flickered:
- **Serpes:** 5,990 pts
- **Arconis Von Dratona:** 6,870 pts
Vael exhaled through his teeth. "Tch."
Back to the slaughter.