Sylas' mind came back to reality and he found his palms scraping against a blade he hadn't even been trying to stop in the first place. Wrath was so furious he simply went for the most direct attack and just so happened to attack in this way.
But regardless of how he attacked, the strength behind it was far more than it had ever been before. Sylas didn't know what was wrong with Wrath, but what he did know was that this wasn't the strength a B-tier should have.
He was far too weak.
Whatever it was, though, it had been considerably weakened just now and Sylas felt like he had been hit by a truck. The skin of his palms were shredded apart by the friction alone and the sword pierced right through his chest.
Sylas just barely managed to dodge the slightest bit to one side. His understanding of his own body was perfect and time seemed to move at a crawl around him.
The blade slipped right through a space between his lungs and heart.
