Sylas didn't know much about the Mist Race. Or, more accurately, he didn't know much about their socio-economic issues in terms of their placement in the wider Skai Galaxy.
But he had lost to Lorien, and her ranking listed her Race very clearly, so how could he not have looked into it? He might not have the same hatred for her that he had for Ulrik, but what he did have was a fierce competitive spirit.
In his life, Sylas couldn't remember losing very often, at least not when he put his mind to something.
It was one thing to lose to someone far superior in strength, and maybe Lorien could have been classified in this way…
He just didn't agree.
There was no doubt that this was ridiculous, but this was just how he saw things. He would defeat her with his own strength at the soonest opportunity.
Unlike the Thryskai, the Mist Race were actually barely stronger than the Human Race of the Skai Galaxy. Although they were of the E-Grade in Race as well, they were below even the Sylphs.
The main issue they faced was that it was hard to progress. Their Unique Gene caused changes to their body that caused women to be birthed 60% of the time, leading to a heavy imbalance in their population.
To match this, they had a change in culture where the strongest women amongst them strategically married outside of their Race in hopes of fixing this imbalance.
This part of the story Sylas could mostly guess. That was because there was no reason for Lorien to be chosen out of the sea of Rune Masters to purposely lose to Ulrik.
Obviously, Lorien had been pursuing Ulrik hard for his Genes, and this caused the Thryskai to believe that she could be trusted.
But Sylas saw Lorien's true face during their battle. With their Will bared to the world, there was nothing that she could hide from the man right across from her.
He sensed her sharpness, her ambition, her grit. In all respects, she was a respectable woman.
It was just that he didn't care.
Billowing misty clouds of pink and violet rolled across the ground, one Aether circle after another taking shape.
"Stay." Sylas said calmly.
BANG!
The ground beneath his feet compressed, his Scorpion Warlord Armor blooming with life and vitality.
He wanted to fight this battle himself.
With a flex of his bicep, Sylas' claw arched from a downward position, slashing up in a wide curve.
The face of a Mist Race member was split into ribbons. From the back, their head looked just fine. But from the front, it looked like a sea of blood and shredded flesh.
Sylas stepped by her, his shoulder brushing against her body.
She was sent spiraling, slamming out to the side and taking out a river of Mist Race existences.
The path of the Mist Race was heavily reliant on the Will and souls. Most often, this manifested into illusion abilities, but this wasn't all that they could do.
Though they were known to be weaker than the Sylphs, their ability to deconstruct their bodies into amorphous, wispy forms was far superior.
But their strongest method, and the root of their Unique Gene, was their Mist Manifestation.
This was a manifestation of their Will and it was akin to Aetherflow on a whole other level. This was probably one of the core reasons Sylas lost so resoundingly to Lorien.
But this Wave wasn't formed of Loriens.
Sylas rampaged, his blood pumping through his veins. His fists ripped through bodies and his claws severed heads from shoulders.
A single kick shattered a skull with such force that its fragments pelted into the face and chest of another, riddling them with holes as though shrapnel from a grenade.
The Mist Manifestations couldn't even begin to touch Sylas. He didn't even use his Will to deal with them at all. The moment they came into contact with the Will of his Scorpion Warlord Armor, the residual aura of a Scorpion shattered them to pieces.
From what Sylas could tell, the normal grunts were barely at Tangible Will. The elites that were only now starting to pop up were at Sparking.
It just wasn't enough.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
Steam emitted from Sylas' mouth, his gaze becoming calmer and calmer the more he killed, as though a raging flame inside of him was finally being satiated.
His Demonic Will had truly not flared up in a long while. The last time was when he suppressed it in the face of the Florineth.
Did he hate Nyssa? No.
Did he hate what she represented?
Absolutely.
Another stain, another moment of weakness. He hated them with every fiber of his being.
It made it even worse that this was permanently entrenched into his story, a stamp that would forever be part of the foundation that helped him to grow.
And he couldn't get rid of it.
Sylas roared, punching out with a violence that came from the core of his being. In that moment, the illusory fist that emitted from his arm looked almost as though it had taken true, solid form, crossing the skies and shattering the bodies of every Mist Race member it even remotely came into contact with.
For others, this Wave should have been difficult. But to Sylas, it was nothing more than a joke, a place to vent.
These Mist Race members had all of their stats concentrated into their Will and Mental stats. Their bodies were barely at two and three thousand.
To them, Sylas' body was like a rumbling truck that had already built up all its momentum, crashing into them one after another, while their Will couldn't even touch him.
But then the BOSS appeared.
Sylas sensed the difference the moment the Aether circle began to spin, rotating like a cyclone in the dense mist.
'Is that so?'
Feeling the Will, Sylas faced the pair of eyes in the distance, the mist so dense he couldn't see the rest of them.
'Still not enough.'
Sylas reached out a hand, and gripped down on the air.
The head of the BOSS shattered before they even made their debut.