Chapter 1766: End |
But he wasn’t the only one making progress with his life. Ozeroth, along with his ever-growing harem, had gone ahead and established the Hall of Ascendants.
Atticus had thought things would be awkward between them, but Ozeroth treated him exactly as he always had, a brother. It was something he truly appreciated.
The Hall of Ascendants. A place, as Ozeroth would put it, where pussies went to become worthy. In a weird way, Atticus had always imagined Ozeroth doing something like this. After all, what would the man love more than creating more versions of himself?
Under Whisker’s relentless pestering, he attended one of the assemblies alongside him, arriving just in time to hear Ozeroth’s slogan.
"I’ve spent enough time being a king. I’d rather raise heroes."
Whisker burst into laughter, interrupting the entire assembly. It nearly ended in a fight between him and Ozeroth, but thankfully Atticus was there to stop it.
Whisker, like himself, had also created something called the Wanderer’s Guild. Atticus had been thoroughly baffled when Whisker explained it to him while they cooked.
"No headquarters, no guildmaster, no ranks, no rules. Just people wandering around, helping folks, having fun... you know, living. That’s freedom in its purest form. It’s the greatest fucking thing ever, right, my star actor?"
Atticus stared at him.
"Organization?" Whisker frowned. "Why would we have one? We’re just living."
Atticus wisely decided to keep his thoughts to himself.
Life was full, peaceful, and enjoyable. There were days when all he did was laugh and smile. And nights when he jolted awake, seeing once again the blood of the people he’d killed. Those nights were filled with horror. Yet Anorah’s gentle touch always soothed him. Little by little, he found himself again.
Atticus lived a life he thoroughly enjoyed.
Like that, another five years passed.
Atticus sat outside, knitting a sweater while his mother Grace sat opposite him. Grace stared at the sky with a complicated look.
"Honestly, even after all this time, it still feels like a fairy tale to me."
Atticus chuckled.
"The magic, swords, reincarnation... all of it, right? I get it. It took me a while to get used to it too."
"It’s just... insane." Grace shook her head. "You know, I never knew you were killed. I never found a body. You were just... gone. I looked everywhere. Your friends, your school... nobody had seen you. I spent so long looking for you. Never would’ve guessed my son was out there slaying dragons."
She let out a quiet laugh.
Atticus was a little stunned. He’d never asked for her side of the story. He’d always imagined she’d found him shot dead, mourned him, and perhaps moved on with her life. To think she’d spent all that time searching for him.
He smiled warmly.
"Well... you found me now."
"Yeah."
She nodded with a small chuckle.
"Dada! Look! I’m flying!"
Atticus looked ahead. Across the vast grassland, his family was gathered. Ozeroth had an excited little white-haired girl with chubby cheeks perched on his shoulders as he ran around.
"N-no fair! Me too, Uncle Ozzy!"
A smaller boy chased after them as fast as his little legs could carry him.
"Alright, alright! Up you go!"
Ozeroth scooped him up with his free arm, and the boy immediately burst into delighted giggles. The two children quickly wriggled free and came running toward Atticus.
"Dada! Come play with us!"
"You promised!"
Atticus smiled.
"I will. As soon as I’m done with this."
The two immediately puffed out their cheeks, tears already beginning to well in their big eyes.
"...Pleeease?"
"Alright, alright. I’m coming."
Atticus relented and joined them.
Across the field, the others were gathered. Caldor, Ember, Aurora, and Zoey chatted among themselves. His mothers, as always, sat together.
Avalon and Attimax seemed to have formed some strange friendship, drinking while talking, though Avalon did most of the talking.
Grandma Freya sat comfortably on Magnus’ lap atop a creaking chair as the two quietly watched the children play.
He watched his beautiful wife, Anorah, walk onto the patio where Grace sat, another child growing in her belly, smiling at him.
Atticus lost himself in that smile.
This. Everything. He loved it. It was beautiful. It was everything he’d ever wanted.
And he never wanted it to end.
[Legacy complete.]
"Huh?"
Atticus looked around. Everyone else was also staring into empty space with confused expressions. They turned to him, wondering what this was about.
Yet he had no idea what was happening.
He didn’t like this.
They seemed to notice the change in his expression. Every one of them instantly went alert. Atticus immediately started toward his wife.
"Anora—"
The word slurred. He froze. What... was that?
"Atticus!"
The scream came from one of his mothers. He turned, and his heart nearly stopped. They were melting. Not just them. Everything.
The air. The world. The grass.
"Dada!"
"What is this?!"
His children panicked as well.
"Primordial Star Form!"
He invoked, yet Nothing happened.
"What... what is going on?"
His eyes widened in disbelief.
"Atticus!"
He looked up and saw his wife reaching out to him. He reached back. However, their fingertips never met. His world went dark.
[Reintegrating consciousness with primary body.]
Atticus’ eyes snapped open.
What... where... where am I?
There was something sticky around him. The space was confined. A pod. He stared ahead. He was in a vast, pristine white space, with an endless sea of pods like his own stretching in every direction.
[Disengaging pod.]
His pod opened suddenly, and Atticus hit the ground as liquid splattered around him. His mind was a mess, and he struggled to gather his thoughts.
"He’s awake! He’s finally awake!"
"Quick! Get the Proctor!"
Voices overlapped. Atticus struggled to stand, but his vision spun violently. He could barely make out their figures. Clad in white. That was all he knew.
"Hey! Easy! Don’t get up so fast. Here, let me help."
Atticus’ eyes blazed purple. A katana formed in his grip.
"Don’t touch me," he growled.
They recoiled instantly.
"Ah! He has a weapon!"
"How is he using his powers already?!"
"Everyone back! Give him space!"
"Enough!" A firm voice said.
"P-proctor"
"Finally."
Atticus watched a short, blurry man approach. He tightened his grip on the purple blade, still struggling to make sense of what was happening.
"Give him some room. You’re overwhelming him. He’s got enough going on without all of you crowding him."
His voice was stern. The others immediately obeyed, slowly backing away. Then the man spoke again, this time much more gently.
"Atticus. I’m Proctor Masten. I know you’re confused right now, and I promise I’ll explain everything. But first, I need to make sure you’re alright."
"My family..."
Atticus’ eyes remained unfocused as he looked around. His children. His wife. His family. He couldn’t see any of them.
"Where... where are they?"
The man fell silent. The silence sank straight into Atticus’ heart.
"No, you—"
The world lurched, then darkness claimed him.
...
Atticus woke to a pure white ceiling unlike anything he had ever seen.
"You’re awake."
He slowly turned. Everything was unfamiliar, yet strangely, he was calm.
He finally got a proper look at the man from before. He was short, completely bald, dark-skinned, with one eye noticeably larger than the other and an ash-colored beard covering his face.
"Where am I?"
His voice sounded strange... yet familiar.
Weird.
The man raised an eyebrow.
"Hm. I expected a little more panic." He studied Atticus for a moment. "Or have you... recovered your memories? It happens. Rarely, but it happens. A handful of Divers remember everything the moment they wake up." A small smile crossed his face. "They usually end up becoming monsters. I’d say you’re well on your way. After all, I’ve already seen your results."
New memories were flowing into his mind, yet Atticus ignored them. There was something far more important.
"My family. Where are they?"
"Family...? That’s odd. Your file says you’re an orphan." He paused before giving a small nod of realization. "Ah. The people you met during your dive."
"Where are they?"
"Couldn’t tell you." He gave a helpless shrug. "Every dive pulls Divers from colonies across the globe... sometimes even farther. Most use aliases, so tracking them down is a nightmare." He gave Atticus an amused look. "Every now and then someone decides to use their real name. Strange bunch, if you ask me." His expression softened. "If your luck holds, maybe they did. If not..." He exhaled quietly. "They could even be from an enemy colony. That’d be one hell of a reunion."
Atticus slowly sat upright, his eyes fixed on the man.
"What the fuck is going on?"
"Hm." He nodded and pulled a small hand mirror from his coat before holding it out. "One question at a time. Start with this."
Atticus slowly accepted it. He looked into the mirror, then froze.
A boy no older than fifteen stared back at him. Ocean-blue eyes flecked with faint traces of purple. Snow-white hair. His face was still handsome... but it couldn’t compare to before.
"This is... me?"
"Yes." He gave a small nod. "Now... listen carefully."
Atticus remained silent throughout the lecture.
He was Atticus. An orphan from childhood, raised by his Diver uncle.
He lived in a world steeped in war and bloodshed.
Humanity had already lost the war against the Immutable. The survivors had scattered across countless colonies throughout the world.
He belonged to the privileged few known as Divers, individuals capable of diving into ancient civilizations, Legacies to inherit their power.
Every Diver had their memories wiped upon entry. Though thousands of years could pass inside a legacy, only a week would pass in reality.
Divers were the only thing preventing humanity’s complete extinction.
Atticus, along with millions of others, had been granted the privilege of entering humanity’s last remaining legacies.
Proctor Masten went on and on about his accomplishments. That he wasn’t merely a Diver, but a Successor. One of the very few who completely claimed a Lagacy.
Yet Atticus hardly seemed to care. He soon asked the Proctor to leave.
Alone, he stared at the ceiling, unable to hold back the tears.
Even after all of that... it still hadn’t been the end. He had thought he had finally reached it. True peace. True prosperity. But it had only been wishful thinking.
He hadn’t achieved anything.
Atticus wiped the tears from his eyes, his gaze slowly hardening.
Regardless... he was certain his family were Divers too. Whether they had lives before meeting him no longer mattered. The life they had shared was real. They were his family.
No matter what anyone else said.
’I’ll find them.’
No matter how long it took. No matter what stood in his way. He would find them. And he would give them what he had promised.
Peace.
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