Atticus's Odyssey: Reincarnated Into A Playground

Chapter 1751: Bear

A deafening silence settled over the hall. Every eye fixed on Atticus, some in shock, others simply baffled. Decide who the champion was? Did that mean...

Many eyes widened.

A challenge. It was a challenge.

Instinctively, gazes turned toward the highest thrones. The God of Man and the Supreme Elemental Arbiter both wore small smiles.

They approved.

The Duke of Man was no different. Even with the cold glint in his eyes, he smiled at Atticus. Atticus recognized that look. The look of a predator who believed his prey had stepped willingly into his jaws.

To Atticus, it was amusing. Who did he think was the real prey?

"Very well."

The Duke of Man nodded solemnly, casting a brief glance at his son.

"Since neither side is willing to yield, there is only one sensible solution. Let us determine who is truly worthy through battle."

He turned to Attimax and Ilyshkara.

"Any objections?"

But Ilyshkara only lifted her hand. A ripple spread through the hall like a shimmering mirage, and the scene shifted.

Atticus found himself standing in the middle of an endless wasteland. Bourn stood ahead of him. frёewebnoѵel.ƈo๓

Despite knowing they were about to fight, he seemed entirely unmoved. His face was a mask. He wasn’t even looking at him.

Atticus wasn’t sure if it was his cousin’s attempt at an insult, or if he simply didn’t care. If it was the former, then it was a useless one. He had lived a life of bloodshed and survival. He was above such things.

He glanced around. Though he couldn’t see any of the lords, or even his father and mother, he could feel their eyes. Countless of them.

What Atticus didn’t know, however, was that he was right. High in the sky, the entire court had gathered to watch the unfolding battle.

But they were not nearly the only ones watching.

The Duke of Man, having already foreseen a battle between Atticus and his son, had made arrangements beforehand. Across the deepest reaches of the Sanctum, in every city and settlement, screens sprang up, displaying live footage of Atticus and Bourn standing across from each other.

Atticus’ image had already spread despite only a day passing since his arrival, and the people recognized him instantly. Bourn was no different.

Without needing an explanation, they understood what was about to happen, and in an instant, cheers erupted across the Sanctum.

The Crown Prince of Man and Solvath’s Avatar were about to fight!

The surge of thrill and excitement could not be overstated.

’Hmph, fool.’

Ilyshkara scoffed, her gaze lingering on the eager glint in the Duke of Man’s eyes.

Of course, she had known about everything and had simply let it happen. Just because she didn’t want her son caught in the middle of something this uncertain didn’t mean she lacked faith in him.

Atticus would win this. Of that, she had no doubt. freёwebnoѵel.com

"Hey, who do you think would win?" she whispered to Attimax.

The God of Man turned toward her with a look that seemed to ask if she had genuinely just asked that question.

"Who do you think?"

"I’m asking you."

"My son."

"Wow. Not even a second of consideration?"

"There was nothing to consider."

Ilyshkara laughed, causing Attimax’s frown to deepen. A moment later, both turned their attention back to the battlefield.

...

Even now, that same expressionless mask remained on Bourn’s face. Still, Atticus’ mind was iron. The conversation with his father yesterday had helped him make a decision. One he believed was the right one.

He was choosing his goal. It was the path to ultimate happiness.

Then...

"Begin."

"Turn to ash."

"Carry."

Bourn ignited in a roaring blaze. The fire burned hot, yet he remained standing there unmoving, not a trace of pain entering his eyes.

He hadn’t turned to ash.

Atticus frowned. Bourn hadn’t used Solvath’s fragment, yet it seemed reality rated him higher.

Bourn finally looked at him. The world seemed to freeze. It was as though he carried the weight of an entire world within his gaze.

Atticus was speechless.

His mother had told him his cousin was only a few years older than him. Yet he had spent all of those years here, in the Higher Planes. What could he possibly have gone through?

Bourn casually flicked his arm aside, a broadsword flashing into his grip.

Atticus felt the overwhelming power contained within the weapon and immediately recognized it for what it was.

A Star Killer.

"Converge."

The fire surged from Bourn’s body and flowed toward the blade. Silence seemed to descend for a moment. Then Bourn vanished.

Atticus’ blade left its sheath in a flash. Blade met blade. A violent shockwave erupted from the point of impact, sending cracks racing across the terrain. Sparks flew, dancing within their irises as their eyes locked.

Bourn frowned. Atticus had taken the attack head-on without moving an inch. More sparks burst between them as they fought for dominance.

Yet there was shock in Atticus’ eyes. Not only had Bourn withstood the attack, he had controlled the flames.

But the surprise vanished as quickly as it appeared.

"Burn."

Atticus became a ghost. One moment he was locked against Bourn, the next, hundreds of slashes infused with his will streaked across Bourn’s body.

They carved through cloth, burning lines across his skin before fading away.

Atticus’ eyes narrowed.

Fire ignited within Bourn’s gaze, and he stepped forward. The ground shattered beneath his foot, dust billowing into the air.

Atticus shifted aside, a blast tearing through the air and whipping his hair.

Their gazes collided midair. The world seemed to stop. Then they vanished.

They met again across the wasteland as two streaks of light. Crimson roared on one side while azure shimmered on the other, the ground beneath them detonating in jagged lines.

They vanished again, colliding high in the sky. The clouds blasted apart for kilometers. Then they vanished once more, reappearing across the plains in a series of rapid collisions.

A vortex of shattered air formed in their wake, unleashing a violent tornado that flickered with sparks and roared into the heavens. Their speed was fast. Their attacks were faster.

The people watching from above, and even many across the Sanctum, struggled to follow the battle.

Atticus was a phantom. His speed bordered on teleportation. He flickered in and out of existence, slashes erupting wherever he appeared.

Yet Bourn was a mountain. Every sweep of his broadsword carved through the terrain for miles. Many attacks struck him, ones that should have turned him to ash, yet they seemed to have no effect.

His speed kept increasing. His power even more so.

Atticus realized he was facing a living fortress.