Chapter 1239: The Games
Sylas’ body remained intact.
The Duke’s pupils constricted into pinholes. This was clearly not the result he was expecting. And he expected Sylas’ next action even less. Or rather, he expected his daughter’s even less.
The Duchess reacted on Sylas’ behalf, a palm slamming out at mach speeds—so fast the clap of sound shattered the windows and sent blasts of chaos in all directions.
With almost too much ease, despite his surprise, the Duke caught his daughter’s wrist.
"How could you try that?!" the Duchess screeched.
Suddenly, between Sylas and the Duke was the Duchess, and the man lost his clear shot at Sylas. This was an opportunity even a fool wouldn’t miss, let alone Sylas himself.
"Speak your father’s true name," Sylas said, but his palm had landed on the back of the Duchess at the same time, making them words the Duke simply didn’t hear. It was as though he was communicating through their Wills themselves.
"You—!" The Duke seemed to feel that something was off, but his daughter was already speaking.
"Zarvokyl Throskathar Ghorazaknaral Sanguara," the Duchess replied on instinct.
The Duke froze, and Sylas acted, striking out with all the force he could muster right through the Duchess’ body. His claws ripped through her chest and into the Duke’s, *\[Chaotic Menace]* rippling out.
Blood Runes surged, and Sylas pulled power from the Duchess’ body. The irony was that he could only control these Runes because his impurities had weakened her, filling her once-perfect bloodline with the weakness of an F-Grade Race.