Sylas heaved for breath, his chest moving to the rhythm of the howling winds around him. Every inhale he took came with a hurricane of force, every exhale washing out like a tsunami.
All around him, the flickering echoes of ghosts lay. Standing in the center of it all, it looked eerily like something he had seen many times before already…
The Golden Battlefield.
Maybe Sylas could have never expected that he was the great war they had been fighting all this time. But the moment he had come to stand here, not only did he understand, but he likewise used it to his advantage.
The Monkey King still hadn't moved. He looked at Sylas from his original standing position, his eyes boring holes into the space before him. But at the moment, it still looked like he was staring right through Sylas instead.
The man that the Monkey King feared was what Sylas would become, not what he was now. It was what he was now that could be taken out, and he would make certain that happened.
