Atticus's Odyssey: Reincarnated Into A Playground novel Chapter 924

Chapter 924 Auralithians

Despite the overwhelming force behind their strikes, neither Atticus nor Yorowin yielded an inch.

Their weapons ground against each other, the screeching sound like nails raking across the fabric of the world.

Azure and purple clashed with pure crimson, mixing into a vibrant, chaotic shade of violet red that pulsed with unrestrained energy. The collision radiated power in all directions, shaking the earth and sky alike.

And still, neither moved.

Amidst the devastation, Yorowin's mind raced with the speed of a supercomputer, his eyes wide with utter shock.

'What is that weapon?'

His crimson gaze trembled. Up until this moment, Yorowin had believed nothing about Atticus could surprise him further.

What could possibly be more shocking than a 17 year old withstanding the might of a paragon?

But he had been wrong.

Because right now, he was stunned beyond belief.

In the Vampyros race, as members ascended the ranks, their evolution affected more than their bodies, it fundamentally altered their blood.

Their blood was graded, its potency and versatility increasing with their power. For the Vampyros, blood was their ultimate weapon, far superior to any blade forged by mortal hands.

At the paragon rank, their blood-forged weapons were unparalleled, capable of shattering even the strongest crafted weapons of lesser beings.

Yorowin had expected his blood scythes to shatter Atticus's ordinary looking katana like a steel hammer smashing through glass.

However…

Crack.

Yorowin's eyes sharpened, disbelief clawing at his mind.

'It's breaking.'

Cracks began forming on his scythes, their forms trembling, threatening to shatter under the relentless pressure.

Yorowin's crimson, trembling gaze locked onto Atticus's unmoving blue and purple eyes. In that instant, the world disappeared.

Time slowed.

The moment hung suspended in violent perfection, the clash of their powers frozen like a masterpiece of chaos, as though even reality itself dared not intrude.

But Atticus had never been one to waste time.

No time passed.

Yorowin felt it, a primal danger surging from the depths of his soul, sharp and unrelenting.

And then he saw it.

The reflection on Atticus's gleaming katana told the story before it happened.

Behind him.

Another Atticus.

Its katana descended like divine judgment, the blade glowing with a deadly brilliance, carving through the air with precision so perfect it seemed as though the heavens themselves had guided it.

Yorowin didn't think. He couldn't. Instinct overrode all thought.

His body twisted violently to the side, his scythe shattering in the process with a deafening crack. Splinters of crimson energy burst outward as he narrowly avoided decapitation.

The blade missed his head, barely.

But he was too slow.

The edge of the katana met his wrist mid-evade.

The result was instant.

Yorowin's blood armor, forged from the very essence of his power, the armor that could withstand blows even paragons would struggle to crack, was sliced through as though it were made of paper.

The katana carved through the dense material like a hot knife through butter, clean and merciless.

A spray of crimson erupted from Yorowin's wrist, severed tendons and bone laid bare as his hand fell limp.

But Yorowin didn't even feel the pain.