Atticus's Odyssey: Reincarnated Into A Playground C.761 Confused

761 Confused

The five of them muttered in unison,

"First Art… Dimensional Shred," Before Atticus could even process those words, the five figures vanished, and the air around him suddenly distorted violently. Shimmering rifts began to tear through space, each one slicing toward him from multiple angles. They moved with deadly precision, faster than the eye could follow, each rift like a blade cutting through reality itself.

Earlier, he had barely blocked this art from one Carius, but now he would have to face five of them— each even stronger than the earlier attack.

"Endless Blade."

Atticus's body reacted on instinct. His katana flashed, slashing through the air in rapid, precise movements as he attempted to parry the incoming attacks.

'So heavy,' Atticus could feel the bones in his body vibrating intensely despite not directly clashing with the devastating attacks. His slashes intercepted the attacks from a distance, and yet he felt their impact.

Atticus unleashed arcs after arcs, each one cutting through the air with lethal force, but they barely managed to hold back the five streaks of blackness streaking toward him from multiple directions.

They closed in. Atticus's gaze flashed.

The ground beneath him shattered as he pushed his body to the limit, lightning sparking across his form as he maximized his speed.

His movements blurred, leaving behind multiple afterimages. His steps cracked the stone platforms as countless azure slashes appeared around him, each one aimed at intercepting the five Carius figures.

Atticus's eyes widened as he saw each of his slashes get torn apart like fragile glass.

The second art of the Life Blade focused on unleashing numerous attacks, and while they were formidable, when directly pitted against the concentrated power of the first art, they ultimately fell short.

The five streaks of blackness tore through his azure slashes, the blades appearing inches away from severing his form.

Atticus's gaze turned ice cold, his instincts screaming at him. His eyes moved rapidly, calmly assessing the situation.

'Head, neck, and heart,' His heightened senses pinpointed the lethal strikes, and he focused entirely on evading them. His body moved in sync with his thoughts.

Slash! Spurt!

Intense pain racked Atticus's body. He had managed to evade the lethal strikes that would have killed him, but two of the attacks sliced through a significant part of his right foot and left hand.

The missed attacks continued on their paths, carving through the air and splitting countless hovering platforms into fragments.

The very sky seemed to tear open, and shockwaves rippled outward, sending debris flying in every direction.

Atticus ignored the pain searing through his body, his sense of danger intensifying as each of Carius's alternate selves fixed their cold, icy gazes on him.

It felt as though he was being watched by a predator, a being intent on tearing him apart.

The grip on his katana tightened as each of their auras erupted. Without warning, they disappeared from view, and the arena exploded into a cacophony of collisions and sparks.

Each alternate Carius moved as though the laws of physics held no sway over them. They blinked rapidly in and out of existence, moving in perfect synchronization around Atticus, their swords flashing with mind numbing speed.

Atticus was bombarded from every conceivable direction, his entire body working in overdrive.

Each attack from the five felt like it carried the weight of the world, his entire form quaking as he parried or deflected.

His mind worked fast as he executed multiple maneuvers simultaneously, shifting between elements— lightning for speed, water for fluidity, and earth for defense. His movements were erratic, unpredictable.

Despite his efforts, it became painfully clear that Atticus couldn't block every attack. So, he made a decision.

Atticus sacrificed blocking non lethal blows, focusing only on the lethal ones, relying on his instincts and his sense of death.

As a result, a rain of attacks hit him across different parts of his body— cuts, brutal kicks, and devastating punches.

His exo suit worked overtime to heal his wounds, but the sheer intensity of the onslaught made it hard to keep up. Blood drenched his form, and his breathing grew heavier.

The people of the human domain watched the battle in silence, some— especially the children— unable to bear the brutality unfolding before them, closing their eyes or turning away.

Anastasia's hands were clenched so tightly that her nails dug into her palms, drawing blood that dripped onto the floor. Her eyes remained coldly fixed on the screen, but her heart raced with fear and anguish. Seeing Atticus in such pain felt as if she were enduring it herself.

Avalon tried to calm her by placing a hand over hers, but even he was seething inwardly.

"Damn," one of the Ravenstein youths at the academy muttered. The division had fallen into a tense silence as they watched the live stream intently.

It was the first time they had seen Atticus pushed to such an extreme. He had always been the one delivering the blows, the one standing above all others. Now, seeing him struggle, many of them couldn't help but realize how human he truly was.

Aurora's presence was palpable; the air around her blazed with heat, her eyes burning with fury. Anyone could see just how much she was restraining herself. She looked ready to leap into the screen. She wanted nothing more than to incinerate Carius, no matter how impossible it seemed.

In another division, Zoey's eyes glowed an intense purple, her killing intent filling the space like a heavy fog. Even Lumindra, usually composed, was taken aback by the intensity of her anger.

'What a confused girl. You rejected the kid, and now you're angry he's getting beaten up?' Lumindra thought, shaking her tiny head in disbelief.

Across the human domain, the silence was suffocating. Many watched with bated breath, hoping for a miracle— any miracle— from this monster kid.

A few more seconds passed, and Atticus's movements began to slow. The wounds on his body multiplied, and his once precise dodges became dangerously close misses.