Atticus's Odyssey: Reincarnated Into A Playground novel Chapter 909

Chapter 909 Advice

The soft orange glow of sunlight bathed the peak in its gentle rays, illuminating a tall figure standing at the edge of the cliff.

The sound of whistling wind engulfed the area, the storm below raging furiously. Yet it did nothing to calm the racing thoughts of the man as he stared down the cliff with a cold, somber expression.

"I'm sorry, kid," the spirit muttered under his breath, his gaze fixed on Atticus disappearing into the storm below.

In the next instant, loud, booming laughter erupted, shaking the air and reverberating across the mountain peak.

"Dorander! I never thought you'd stoop so low!"

Dorander's gaze darkened as his head snapped toward the source of the voice.

Standing behind him was the same sly spirit who had been with him when Atticus chose a guide for the fourth trial. Sylas. The man who had been visibly annoyed when Atticus didn't select him, despite all his feigned niceties.

Dorander remained silent, his cold gaze meeting Sylas's mocking expression before he turned away, uninterested in engaging.

But Sylas didn't care.

"I have to say, I'm shocked!" Sylas continued, "I was surprised you even volunteered in the first place, knowing how it would end. You, Dorander, the great warrior, always preaching honor and fairness. Who knew you'd do something so dishonorable!"

His laughter echoed across the peak, drawing the attention of the other spirits who sat quietly, their expressions ranging from confusion to disbelief.

Dorander's eyes snapped back toward Sylas, narrowing dangerously as his aura flared.

"That's enough, Sylas,"

But Sylas's grin widened, his laughter only growing louder.

"Or what? You'll throw me off the cliff too? Pfft," Sylas sneered. _{freeωebnovēl.c૦m}

Dorander's expression darkened further, his clenched fists trembling at his sides.

"This bastard," Dorander muttered under his breath, his tongue clicking in frustration as he turned away.

'I had no choice,' he thought bitterly, his hands curling into fists.

Their reactions were justified. Dorander's actions were a stark departure from his reputation. Among the spirits, he had always been seen as a warrior who excelled in battle and upheld a strict code of honor.

Before becoming a spirit, Dorander had been a champion in his unranked, energyless world. He had dominated countless fighting competitions, his skill unmatched.

When reincarnated into Eldoralth, Dorander's confidence had soared. To him, this was his calling, the reason for his existence.

But he had never had the chance to prove himself against other reincarnated warriors of the different races. Despite his confidence, Dorander had opted to remain low-key, biding his time and gaining strength before making his mark.

That time never came.

He died in the fourth trial, a trial he had been so confident he would conquer.

The devastation of his failure haunted him when he joined the other spirits within the katana. He lived in solitude, consumed by regret, until he learned something shocking.

The fourth trial was different.

The rules changed drastically. It became far more dangerous but equally rewarding.

Unlike the earlier trials, the fourth trial offered something extraordinary: a chance for spirits within the katana to leave and be reincarnated.

At the start of the fourth trial, the challenger was required to choose a spirit to guide them. Should the challenger pass all the challenges and reach the end, the challenger and their chosen guide would face each other in battle.

Victory for the guide meant reincarnation, a chance to live again.

And so, despite his principles, despite his honor, he had made his choice.