Israeal's eyes were opened wide as his head rolled to the ground, his body convulsing once before he collapsed.
Runes swarmed, finally smashing past the cocoon of Scorned Wraps, only to find that the deed had long been done.
A roaring rage came from the Dungeon once again, but Sylas stood there in silence, coughing up blood before wiping his mouth. He retracted his Scorned Wraps, taking a deep breath as the heart-rending pain in his back threatened to bring him to his knees.
The wound was so bad that that entire side of his body had turned black with bruising, pooling strands of blood engorging the region in an attempt to quickly fix it.
The good news was that Sylas' Healing Factor had grown again after he became a D-Grade Human Simioid.
The bad news was that his healing seemed particularly slow right now.
For once, this wasn't because of the Dungeon—it couldn't impact something like that; that would be too far. Instead, it was because of the rod Jala had attacked him with.
