Chapter 1738: Become It |
Atticus was a beacon of light in the world. It seemed as though he alone stood within it.
The pillar of light snapped back into him, converging on his katana. The hilt turned scalding hot. A slow wave of energy traced along his arm, sizzling through his body and etching itself into him until even one side of his face was engulfed. The sleeve it touched turned to ash.
The pain subsided, leaving behind a purple tattoo emblazoned across the length of his arm and the right side of his face.
The markings pulsed. His entire being seemed to pulse with them. With that feeling, every single pressure he felt from Solvath vanished. No matter how much he searched, it was no longer in his mind. However, its power had never felt so profound.
Intense pain still roared through him, mixed with overwhelming power and inexplicable changes occurring to his being, yet Atticus’ eyes didn’t even so much as tremble as he stared at the Spirit King ahead.
He saw nothing else.
Atticus exhaled, the action generating dust that swept for thousands of kilometers. He felt no rage. No desire for vengeance. His body was akin to a still lake, his mind numb. His goal had already been decided. There was no point in needless emotions.
He would kill the Spirit King. Simple as that.
He swept his katana aside, his newfound power seeming instinctive to him. His tattoo pulsed. Then, the blanket of purple light that covered the world surged into the markings.
The booming laughter of Ozeroth didn’t register in his head as he furrowed his brows at Atticus.
He was gone.
"!!"
The Spirit King’s staff snapped into his grip as he blazed purple. It fell. Staff and katana met.
The resulting collision hurled Ozeroth, the Pride Queen, and Ozerra away. A flash of blinding light followed by a deafening wave tore across the world. Even millions of kilometers away, the ground trembled.
Bam! Bam! Bam!
The Spirit King’s staff seemed to dance in his arms. He spun, whirled, and thrust, unleashing violent blows that seemed capable of shattering souls.
But Atticus seemed one with his katana. He vanished and appeared, only to vanish again, a million attacks already sent out.
Purple and purple flashed across the skies. Each collision echoed like a violent explosion. Terrain crumbled. Mountains flattened. Rivers vanished. They moved like blips, colliding, colliding, colliding.
Within the chaos, the Spirit King’s eyes constricted. This... what is happening? How was this possible? He had been about to swallow Atticus whole. He had been close. So close. Now he was clashing against him, the majority bearer of Solvath’s fragments, without giving an inch?
How?
His gaze fell upon the increasingly radiant tattoo spreading across Atticus’ body, and his eyes narrowed.
"...You’re absorbing it..."
He could feel it now. The more they clashed, the less Solvath’s power remained within him. Atticus was siphoning a portion of it with every collision. Making it his own while simultaneously negating the force behind it.
Solvath remained silent, offering no warning. The Spirit King’s expression darkened. He could not trust the Primordial. He could not trust anyone.
His gaze returned to Atticus. Those eyes... they were emotionless. Hollow. As though he was fighting a machine rather than a human.
He scoffed.
"Whatever tricks you’re playing. It’s futile. I will win."
The Spirit King’s eyes blazed.
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