[Will: 872]
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Sylas gasped for breath, his body keeling over onto the ground. By this point, his clothing was practically non-existent, having shattered into a rain of ice. Unfortunately, he didn't have any replacements other than what he might take off the corpses of the Sylphs, but he didn't have the mind to care about such a thing right now.
His body was practically shutting down on him, and he only barely had the mind to realize that once again… he was the last to arrive.
And as such, there was no time to rest.
…
Sylas' vision warped and twisted. When it cleared, he was standing at the bottom of a catacomb. All around, there were holes that barely showed snippets of the sky.
Howling winds rushed through these holes, causing an echoing and resonant hum to fill the underground space.
The resonances layered on top of one another, forming stronger and stronger winds.