Atticus's Odyssey: Reincarnated Into A Playground novel Chapter 1185

Atticus fell silent.

'It's true.'

He had noticed it too, his final words to the twins, his reply to the Zorvan general at the portal, and the things he'd said to the Spirit King.

He never used to speak to his enemies. He never granted them the dignity of words. Only death. That had always been enough. Or so he'd told himself.

But the truth was different.

He had been hiding. Hiding from the darker part of himself. The part that enjoyed it; the misery of his enemies, the way they trembled, the effects his words had on their psyches.

He liked it.

Now that he wasn't hiding anymore, there was no reason to hold back.

Still, he reminded himself of his one rule: only when it was necessary.

"This side of you," Whisker said, "is perfect for them."

Atticus turned his gaze to where Whisker gestured.

Below, slightly apart from the remnants of the survivors, over a hundred paragons stood, staring up at him with a mix of emotions.

Fear. Hope. Awe.

But none of it seemed negative. Not toward him.

Atticus gave Whisker a nod, and vanished.

He reappeared in front of the paragons in an instant.

They flinched. Most instinctively stepped back, startled by the suddenness of his arrival. None of them had seen him move.

He didn't blame them. After what they'd gone through today, even the smallest trigger could set them off.

They regained their composure quickly, steadying their startled hearts, only to have them skip again as they raised their eyes.

There, in front of over a hundred paragons, beings revered as powerhouses, capable of reducing entire domains to rubble, stood a single boy.

Yet his presence alone drowned out the collective weight of them all.

In that moment, he was all they saw. He was the center of attention. The only being that mattered. The main fucking character.

And the world… it felt like it revolved around him.

To each of them, Atticus Ravenstein looked like nothing short of a god. _{freewebnøvel.coɱ}

Two wide grins stretched across Avalon and Magnus' faces as they watched their boy, the boy who had done what none of them ever imagined.

Even Zenon, bloodied and worn, bore a grin. This boy hadn't disappointed.

Jenera Flux was silent. So were the hundred plus paragons. No one spoke.

Instead, they waited. Because right now, only one person had the right to dictate what happened next.

"We survived the crisis, but more will come."

Atticus' voice rang out calmly, more calming than anyone expected, given the weight behind his words. Yet it carried far, across the broken land.

Billions of people that were once weeping with relief, froze.

They looked up and they listened. Hearts clutched tight.