[Wave Two - Covenant of the Wild]
[Time to Wave Three: 00:23:59:59]
—
Sylas opened his eyes, a frosty aura radiating out from the Serpentes around him. He gave the wave name a glance and frowned.
Something told him that these names were more important than they seemed. A part of him had thought that this was because he was reading them in Ancient Ithkuil and maybe overthinking it. But now he felt it even more substantially than he had during the first wave.
Unfortunately, there were no answers sitting around waiting for him.
Aether circles began to form one after another, humanoids appearing one after another. They moved as though they were apes, their knuckles pressing against the ground and their heels grinding into the dirt as they leapt and lunged forward in a laboring gait.
Their faces were covered by bone-carved, feathered masks. And quite frankly… they didn't look threatening in the slightest.
The tallest of them was barely 5'6" to 5'7" or so. With them crouching like that, they looked even smaller in stature.
They lacked menacing claws, and given how poorly their bodies were constructed for their current form of movement, it looked as though they were presenting themselves for death.
Their stats were all around six or seven thousand, but their Effectiveness was in the tank.
'Something is wrong…'
The humanoids were rushing forward, the beast skins that covered their lower bodies swaying with their odd movements. They looked like…
Jokes.
It was like they were insane asylum humans that had just broken free from their restraints. But Sylas knew that something had to be up. There was no way the system would give him such an easy victory.
He thought about commanding his Serpentes to act on the plan he had formed before, but he changed his mind. With a stomp of his foot, he rushed ahead.
It was as he said… strength alone wasn't enough. He would become all-powerful and all-knowing. The first part to the latter was trusting his deductive abilities and being inquisitive.
BANG!
Sylas ignored the swarming humanoids for just one. He only gently used his telekinesis to continuously push them away every time they got close.
He began an exchange with just one of them.
In just the first three, he found that he could have killed him three separate times already.
It had to be known that Sylas wasn't even using his Scorpion Warlord Armor right now. His stats weren't even 10% of the humanoid's. So why the hell was it so weak?
And then he felt the change on the fourth exchange, then the fifth.
'Oh?' Sylas' eyes blazed with light. 'Fascinating. Fascinating.'
Adaptation.
By the fourth exchange, there was a substantial change to the danger the humanoid posed to him. In terms of power itself, nothing changed. But Sylas sensed the tick up in warning signs from his Luck.
'It's not just it…'
Sylas' gaze focused on the others around him. They were learning as well.
Finally, he understood what the trap of his Wave was. If he just rushed in, going all out to kill them as quickly as possible, these Tribal Humans would adapt, their strength morphing and changing in Effectiveness.
If he was correct, they might even reach a point by the end of the Wave that rather than their Effectiveness being far beneath their stats, it was actually the vice versa.
'My original plan is the absolute worst for this situation…'
Sylas frowned inwardly, not knowing the limits of this adaptation. If he suddenly shot into the skies, would they learn how to fly too? Or if he killed one, would they adapt to be resistant to that form of death? What if he used his telekinesis from a distance, would their Will grow more powerful to suffocate his attempts and force him to fight hand to hand?
Be Strong…
Every time, it seemed to circulate right back to that.
But this time, Sylas was stubborn. He didn't believe that there was no way to deal with this intelligently.
"There is a way."
"There is a way."
He spoke the first set of words, but it was the ape-crawling humanoid before him that spoke the second. They were even trying to learn his language.
Sylas had only said these words out loud because he was reassuring himself that he would find a method. He didn't expect to receive a reply.
"Is that so?"
"Is that so."
The humanoid seemed to have lost the inflection of the question.
Sylas suddenly accelerated. Before the humanoid could react, his Scorpion Warlord Armor took shape and his claws ripped through its chest.
He could already sense that the enemies he was softly keeping away from his telekinesis were slowly beginning to struggle free easier and easier.
But he had, indeed, found a method.
"Extricate."
Sylas ripped upward, pulling a Unique Gene out of the humanoid. It was already fading, and it was clear to Sylas that he wasn't meant to be able to collect Genes from these people.
They were illusions, projections formed by the system. They weren't real.
But when the system simulated something… it simulated to the deepest degree.
Sylas' eyes focused on the vanishing Unique Gene, ignoring the pelting rain of attacks around him. They had no ability to use their Aether, they could only throw rocks at him and scratch at his armor.
It was worthless when his current Constitution was practically triple their best Attack stats.
'Bronze… yes, I can do this…'
Sylas' eyes glazed over.
He gave the humanoids nothing to latch onto, sensing the feel of his Runeweaver Profession. The link between his Rune Spark, Progenitor Professional, and new Profession linked together, and he had gained a natural understanding of how to Unravel Runes.
Sylas mumbled beneath his breath as the attacks he was suffering began to grow heavier and heavier. His Armor was already showing signs of cracking, but with how many attacks he was suffering, it was only natural.
'There.'
Sylas' eyes flashed open. He raised his head to the skies and roared out a long string of words.
The humanoids blinked and began to copy him…
And then they froze as they got to the syllable.
BANG!
The first of them imploded.
BANG!
And then came the second.
BANG!
And then the third.
Like firecrackers resonating across concrete, they popped again and again, seas of them dying in quick succession.