Sylas took deep breaths. It had been a while since he truly pushed himself, but it was even rarer that both his mind and his body were pushed like this at the same time.
During the invasion of The Sanctum, it had only really been his mind that was pushed. During the gathering and reshuffling of The Sanctum's branch sects, it was really only his body that was pushed, the scheming hardly tested him at all.
This time, though, he was trying to balance his body teetering on the edge of collapse with a chess match against a puppet built to defeat even A-tiers.
Its calculative ability, its adaptation, the amount of strength it could pull from was unfathomable to the current Sylas.
Even if it was just A-tiers of the Mortal Realm, it would be too much given the parameters he was restrained to—the restrictiveness of the world against his spatial abilities being the worst factor.
But this Dungeon wasn't a Mortal Dungeon. It was a Demi-God one.
