Chapter 232: Mental Warfare
Vamel’s frame reeled backwards through the wind, his emerald eyes darting around the block in search of his foe.
He clutched onto his saber tightly, his muscles tensed as fear slowly rooted in his heart.
The more he analyzed his situation, the clearer he understood how grim it had become.
Time, space, and now shadows? This wasn’t just any genius—this was a monster, an anomaly!
There was no fighting fair, or hoping to overpower such a creature. At this moment, Vamel understood things were now beyond his capabilities to handle.
Completely giving up on trying to claim any genes, his main priority was to survive the 10-minute cooldown of the Mortal Binding talisman.
Recalling how cocky he had been when activating the talisman, he scowled. Not only had he celebrated too early, he had handed his foe a golden opportunity to get rid of him for good.
Vamel suddenly shivered as he felt a chilling scan wash over him. Panicked and fearful, he quickly bolted out of the area, his pulse racing as the wind washed against his frame.
Coming to a halt, he scanned the field, sensing no movement. His brows creased deep in worry—he understood what his foe was doing.
They said the worst schemes were ones you could see coming but couldn’t avoid.
And Seth was utilizing this principle to a scary degree.
By constantly putting his foe on edge—paranoid, antsy, worried, and fearful—Vamel would be pressured to the limit, and he would crack.
All Seth would be waiting for was that chink in his composure, a slight falter, and he would definitely strike for the kill.
Knowing the full sinister capabilities of his class, Vamel was self-aware of the kind of dark strategies that blended seamlessly with class skills.
The Dark Reaper class, in the first place, was a variant of the assassin class. It was never built for a head-on fight.
Stalk and strike! That was what it was meant to do.
It was just that Vamel’s foes so far weren’t up to par, so the adverse effects of his abuse in class skill utilization were never apparent.
That was until today...
A set of purple eyes peeked at Vamel’s frame from the shadows. Seth smiled, squinting as he glanced at the timer for the Mortal Bind lock.
[Timer: 7m: 13s]
There were a lot of ways Seth could end this battle. It was just that the cost wouldn’t be worth the yield.
There was the divine bow resting in his inventory, and the second divine item—a summon book. But the issue was that utilizing divine energy was a privilege his body wasn’t accustomed to, plus there would be backlash that would follow.
Seth couldn’t use a mace to swat a fly, now could he?
"Seven minutes to go..." he whispered to himself, sinking back into the formless pool of shadows.
Just as Vamel predicted, indeed Seth was waging a battle against his psyche, trying to wear the Treant’s senses out.
But where Vamel was mistaken was in assuming Seth was waiting for him to fall apart. In fact, Seth never considered this option.
Trying to wear out a peak Awakened evolver was hard enough. Waiting for him to fall apart without any action? Was that even possible?
These were beings that faced against corruption and Origin beasts. They fought to the brink on frequent occasions—the mental resilience of such evolvers was nothing to scoff at.
And Seth knew better than to do this.
Instead, he was taking a simpler path to victory...
Seconds drifted into minutes, and at this point the silence was getting too loud for Vamel. Not only could he not sense any of his teammates, he hadn’t gotten a trace of Seth’s existence.
He felt tempted to dive into the shadows, but all logic told him that place had ceased to be his domain.
The very shadows that once felt embracing now brought numbing chills whenever he glanced at them.
Right now, he could only hope Seth would stray in the darkness until time elapsed and he could get the hell out of here.
He had accepted the undisputed fact that he couldn’t handle Seth, but truth be told, that never culled his intentions or his greed.
Seth and the others had just proved his theory that this truly was a race of talented evolvers. If he could report to his father, and they could track Seth’s home planet...
His eyes flashed. ’But first, let’s escape this deadlock...’ he thought, squinting at the countdown.
[Timer: 1m: 34s]
In the shadows, Seth, already recovering what little Will he had spent, geared his Dimensional Strider ability for action as the shadows bubbled.
[Timer: 1m: 01s]
Vamel stared at the timer, his heartbeat speeding up, his veins flooding green. He scanned his surroundings below once more.
Still no sign of movement... "Could it be that he was spooked out and escaped?" Vamel whispered to himself, not sensing Seth’s routine scan.
Though he let this thought take hold, he still felt it was possible. After all, using an item to remain so far up in the sky, there was hardly any way Seth could reach him from the shadows, right?
And regardless, even if Seth attacked at this moment, he was confident in his abilities to keep himself alive until the effect of Binding Mortality elapsed.
"Bingo!" Seth’s lips curved into a sinister grin as he caught that glint in his opponent’s eyes.
Unknowingly, Vamel had fallen into a more elaborate trap with such a mindset.
The thing about backing a creature into a corner, enlightened or not, is that they tend to go feral.
Seth himself had experienced this firsthand. Utilizing the pressure of near-death to temper his spirit, Seth could access a whole different layer of strength—and on rare occasions, he could be pushed into a breakthrough.
Hence why Seth strayed far from his foe, waiting for the explicit golden hour... which was the last minute.
At this point, the Treant wouldn’t focus on winning this battle. He wouldn’t dare put his all into a death match. Instead, he would subconsciously bank on surviving long enough to flee.
And just like that, by utilizing the strategy of always leaving a room for escape, Seth had mired his foe into a mental block.
That would never allow the poor Treant to burst with his full prowess as long as he sustained the hope of escaping.
[Timer: 58s]
"Now!" Seth declared, locking on his prey as he drew into a stance mid-void.
Like liquid silver, the Xenon’s sphere formed itself into dual curved daggers. His Will brewing, the shadows parted and space folded.
Vamel’s pupils constricted as his worst fears came true—Seth was here!
Grinding his crystalline jade teeth together, his frame undulated with the essence of the shadows while a hint of green surfaced.
How many seconds were left? 50+ seconds? His gaze steeled as he drew on his saber. "I’ll be surviving this no matter what!"
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