Atticus's Odyssey: Reincarnated Into A Playground novel Chapter 900

Chapter 900 Quickly

Turning his gaze skyward, Atticus saw dark clouds gathering rapidly.

"What now…" he muttered, irritatated.

Within seconds, heavy drops of water began to fall, slamming into the ground with the force of glass shattering on stone.

His feather-made umbrella stood no chance. The rain shredded it apart as if it were made of paper.

Atticus's eyes narrowed, and his arms shot upwards, shielding his face from the relentless barrage. From a single glance, it was obvious, this wasn't ordinary rain. The droplets fell with the speed and impact of bullets.

'It stings,' he thought grimly.

Though his arms managed to block the rain from striking his face, the rest of his body was left vulnerable. The relentless downpour hammered his skin, each drop feeling like a rubber bullet slamming into him.

At his rank, Atticus's body was tougher than steel, capable of withstanding normal bullets without a scratch. Yet this rain was far from pleasant. It felt as though he were being pelted by an unending volley of projectiles.

"Is this the second challenge?" he asked through gritted teeth.

"I can't answer that," the spirit replied flatly.

Atticus nodded, his expression darkening. 'Of course, it wouldn't be that simple.'

"This is just another way for the katana to make my life hell," he muttered. Then, after a pause, his gaze narrowed. "One day, I'll find the sick bastard who created this weapon and have a long… 'discussion' with him."

The spirit glanced at him, briefly stunned by his confidence in such a situation.

"How do I survive this rain?" Atticus asked quickly, his focus sharpening.

"You endure," the spirit responded without hesitation.

Atticus's expression darkened further. He had feared this answer.

'It's trying to wear me down,' he concluded almost instantly.

First, the Hunger Sun had pushed his body to its limit with scorching heat and thirst. Now, the icy rain was freezing him to the bone, leaving him weak.

Atticus voiced his thoughts, asking if the rain was a preparatory phase meant to weaken him before the second challenge. The spirit, after a brief moment of shock, confirmed his suspicion.

Having his assumption validated, an idea sparked in Atticus's mind, a way to gauge when the second challenge would begin.

"How many more of these should I expect?" he asked.

The spirit hesitated, clearly impressed by Atticus's ability to maneuver around the rules. Even as water fell with bullet-like force, he still found a way to extract critical information.

"This will be the last one," the spirit finally admitted.

"Good," Atticus muttered, his resolve hardening. 'Now I just have to survive this with minimal strain.'

The air temperature had plummeted, and the icy rain gripped his body with an intense chill. Every drop drained his warmth, leaving him weak and shivering. His focus began to waver, his thoughts clouding as his body struggled to adapt.

The once-dry desert sand transformed. Pools of water formed atop the dunes, turning the terrain into a slippery, shifting mire. With every step, Atticus's boots sank into the wet sand, the ground clinging to him like quicksand.

His movements were slow and each step was measured, his weight balanced to prevent slipping or wasting energy. The rain reduced visibility, the horizon now obscured by a gray curtain of water.

Atticus continued forward, his breathing steady, white frost escaping his lips with each exhale. His body trembled, but his mind remained focused.

The rain did more than just cool his overheated body; it pushed him to the brink. The rapid temperature change left him feeling sluggish, his limbs heavy.