Humanity's youngest Apex. Its sharpest blade.
And with that title ca the curse, an endless parade of the Tiered and social climbers, all eager to tie their fates to his.
An army of ambition wrapped in silk and smiles.
They approached with grins, sparkling eyes, and an energy that scread: "Notice ."
One had a rare vintage bottle tucked under his arm.
Another was already preparing his opening line with a smile so wide it could cut stone.
All dressed to impress, all hoping to be rembered.
Atticus took another long sip of his wine.
"Maybe I should destroy the nodes and start the war now."
Intrusive thoughts were a dangerous thing.
And unfortunately, that was the only one occupying Atticus's mind in that mont.
He would've preferred a battlefield.
Eventually, after many strategic retreats, polite nods, and well-tid escapes, Atticus had endured long enough to show that he celebrated his father.
He had smiled. He had nodded. He had even listened.
Barely.
And when he was certain no one was looking, he sent a final pleading glance toward his father and grandfather, both of whom smiled and shook their heads. He was being dramatic.
Then, without a word, he slipped out of the hall.
His footsteps were swift and silent as he weaved through the estate's grounds. He made sure he avoided any and every attention that could co. But even after moving away from the hall entirely, he could still hear the sound of celebration echoing from behind him.
Aurora. Zoey. Ember. Caldor. Kael.
None of them had attended the banquet. To them, Avalon's breakthrough wasn't a mont to toast and slack.
It was a ssage to them. A reminder that they were still behind. Far behind.
And so, even though the night was long and cold, they remained inside the advanced training room, still training and pushing themselves to beco stronger.
The moon was full above him, and the air was cold and quiet.
And sohow, without thinking, Atticus found himself walking down a familiar path.
His feet moved on their own, and he reached the graveyard of the Ravenstein estate.
As he passed through the large iron gates, his eyes stopped toward a familiar spot beneath an old tree, the place he had last spoken with Nate.
He stood.
Since that night, Atticus hadn't t him again nor even talked with him.
Still, Nate hadn't returned ho either. He had stayed within the estate, training until his body gave out.
And although Atticus hadn't spoken to him since that night, he had checked up on him more than once.
He hadn't said anything to him or interfered in whatever he was doing.
He had no intention of doing what Nate asked him to do. Still… that didn't change the truth.
Nate had been one of his companions since childhood. One of the few.
And Atticus wasn't just going to abandon him.
His steps continued until he reached the highest point of the graveyard.
Here, the wind was strongest.
And it was where the nas etched on the gravestones had more weight than most.
This was where the direct descendants of the Ravensteins were buried.
And it was also where those who had perford feats worthy of the family's na were laid to rest.
Atticus stopped in front of one particular grave.
Freya Ravenstein
The na was carved boldly into the obsidian slab.
And then, silence.
Atticus didn't say anything. He just stared.
Seconds passed. Then minutes.
And as the monts went by, his fingers curled into fists at his sides. Again. And again.
Only after a long breath did he finally speak in a low voice, barely audible.
"I miss you, Grandma. And… I'm sorry."
Freya's death was a wound that never closed. A failure that he would never forget in his entire lifeti.
If he had been this powerful back then, if he had possessed even a fraction of what he now held… he would have obliterated the Stellaris. He would have crushed the Obsidian Order without rcy.
He would've rewritten that day.
But there was no changing what had already happened.
Atticus stood there for a while longer, saying nothing, letting the cold wind bite into him.
Then, slowly, he turned to leave, only to stop.
'A bird?'
A small bird had landed in front of him, just a few feet away.
He had felt it approaching, of course. Every heartbeat in the estate was clear to him now.
But even so…
It baffled him.
Considering who he was, what he was, this bird should have flown for its life.
Yet, it simply stared at him with its black beady eyes. Calm and unafraid.
In the presence of one of the most dangerous beings on the planet…
It simply perched.
Then, without a care in the world, it began pecking at the ground with its beak.
Repeatedly and rhythmically.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Atticus blinked.
'What the hell…'
He was flabbergasted. What exactly was he looking at?
It wasn't a magical beast. Nor was it an illusion. No abnormal energy signatures either.
Just… a regular bird.
Sure, it had been strengthened by the ambient mana like most creatures on Eldoralth, but still, what was it doing here?
And why now, of all places?
He was just about to reach out, curious, when he froze.
His eyes narrowed.
'It's writing sothing.'
They were standing on neatly trimd grass, and the bird was using its beak to scratch into the soft earth. Atticus just kept on getting more baffled.
'It's trying to pass a ssage? But from who?'
The realization clicked imdiately. Soone had sent this bird.
Atticus's entire deanor shifted, and his senses sharpened.
His guard rose in an instant, ready to act at any given turn.
Then, he didn't move or speak. He just waited. Watching.
The bird continued its work, pecking and scraping until, finally, it stepped back.
Three words were carved into the earth.
'Co. Pit. Dusktown.'
Atticus's eyes narrowed.
And the wind suddenly felt colder.
'Whisker.'
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