A streak hurtled toward him. Atticus raised his arm, and a tiny fist crashed into his palm, sending out a blast that shattered the ground and sent tremors through the entire training room.
A petite girl appeared before him the next instant, her brow drawn tight at the blocked strike.
"You're still too slow."
"Hmph! Then what about this!"
She vanished, and her fists dissolved into a storm of strikes that swallowed Atticus' vision. Yet his single arm moved in a blur, eting each blow with precise deflections as they ca.
Shockwaves rippled outward with every collision, but Atticus remained rooted in place, unmoved.
"Still slow… and weak."
The girl's brows knit at his unshaken composure as she shot backward. The space around her trembled, her ocean-blue eyes darkening into black.
"Alternate self!"
The air split, and in the next mont, four more versions of her stepped out from the fractures.
"Transform!"
Their aura surged in unison, flooding the space. Snow-white hair cascaded down their backs, fangs and claws pushing free as two large wings tore out behind them. Gleaming scales spread across their bodies, sealing over their skin.
Through it all, Atticus' expression didn't shift.
"Attack!"
Thin wisps of smoke curled from their mouths as they lunged forward with a roar. Flas erupted, condensing into searing beams that ripped through the air toward him.
The beams struck and swallowed Atticus whole, engulfing him in a storm of blazing fire. The inferno churned around him, yet not a single fla managed to breach his skin.
Atticus' gaze shifted sharply to the side. A clone materialized in that very spot, her claws slicing through the air toward him. Another burst forth with a roar, unleashing a searing beam of fire. A third followed, a flaming spear driving straight for his chest, while the ground beneath him rippled as another surged upward from below.
Atticus blurred, his form splitting into afterimages as his fists moved with ruthlessness. They tore through each incoming attack and crashed into the clones with force that sent them hurtling back.
His arm snapped behind him, catching a blade just before it could pierce his back. In the sa motion, he turned, seized her montum, and hurled her over his shoulder, crashing her hard into the ground.
"Ark!"
She moved to rise, but Atticus' overwhelming aura crashed down and pinned her in place.
"…it's over. You're dead."
"Ahh, damn it! I almost had you!"
She smacked her hand against the ground, letting out a frustrated breath.
"There's no 'almost' in a real fight. You're either alive or you're dead. Do you understand?"
"Bu—"
"…do you understand?"
She sagged, her face scrunching up before she gave a reluctant nod.
"…yes, brother Atticus."
"Good. Take five. We'll continue after."
"…okay."
A mont later, Freya stood and brushed the dust off her attire. Atticus found his gaze on her. Compared to the tiny child she had been at birth, she had changed far too much over the past decade. She was only ten, yet already stood at five foot five, speaking with a clarity and composure beyond her age. Aside from the faint baby fat still softening her cheeks, she looked more like a young woman than a child.
'She's growing well.'
Freya had been born an Eldorian, which ant the full extent of her race's power was already ingrained within her. Her growth had been among the fastest he had ever witnessed, rising to the peak of the world in just a few short years.
Atticus had taken it upon himself to train her throughout these past years.
Yet there was still one thing she had not attained. Will. And without it, she was nothing more than a sitting duck.
As his gaze lingered on her, Freya shot him a dirty look, her face scrunching in obvious displeasure.
"But brother Atticus, did you really have to slam that hard? Aren't I supposed to be your little fairy? Is that how you treat soone you love?"
"…you are. But the world isn't safe. I have to prepare you."
"There you go again, brother, talking about the world. What world? You rule everything, and everyone's scared of you. I went out with aunty Aurora the other day, and people kept bowing and giving things. What exactly are you preparing for?"
Atticus fell silent beneath her probing stare. This wasn't the first ti she had asked him that. In fact, she had asked the very sa question on the first day he began training her. Even so, he hesitated. He had already spoken with his parents, and after a long, difficult discussion, they had agreed not to tell Freya anything about the outside world, at least for now.
Before entering the Crown and going to war, they owed her a peaceful childhood. That had been Anastasia's pledge. And after weighing everything, Atticus had ultimately chosen to honor it.
"You're not ready yet. When it's ti, I'll tell you."
"Argh! When will it be ti?"
"When I say it is. Now sit. It's ti for your next training."
"Hmph."
With a small huff, she complied, lowering herself into a cross-legged position before him.
"Close your eyes."
As she did, Atticus let out a slow breath. His will seeped out from him, spreading until it enveloped Freya entirely.
Her body jolted, her eyes squeezing shut as a tremor ran through her.
"Don't shy away from it. Fight back."
At his words, her hands tightened into fists before she gave a faint nod. At that mont, he was pressing directly against her mind with his will. The pressure forced countless harsh and terrifying scenes upon her senses, but all of it was necessary. For years now, Atticus had been trying to accelerate the awakening of Freya's will. He could feel her awakening was near, they only needed a little more push. Only after several hours did he finally stop. By then, Freya's body was soaked through with sweat.
"Argh, I hate this training."
"I know. But it's necessary."
"Of course it is…"
Atticus gave her a look, and she let out a quiet sigh before drifting toward the other side of the training room. There, she released several large bubbles once more and began playing with them, her expression brightening as if nothing had happened. Atticus watched her for a mont, frowning faintly.
'I guess she's still a child after all.'
"Oh no, look at the ti!" Freya suddenly exclaid. "I almost forgot I was eting uncle Whisker. I'll be late. Bye, brother!"
Freya wrapped her arms around him in a tight embrace before hurrying out of the training room. Monts later, a golden light flared at its center, and Ozeroth stepped out from within it.
The man was dressed in golden beach shorts and a loose shirt, a large inflated pool balloon tucked under his arm. His gaze swept across the training room, and when he found only Atticus, he frowned.
"…where's Freya?"
"She had sothing to do with Whisker."
Ozeroth's eyes widened instantly.
"What!? But she promised to hang out with Ozeroth. That stupid, lazy bastard… he's stealing her!"
"…stealing her?"
"Yes! How can she not spend ti with her godfather? That lazy guy… he needs to be punished. Hmph."
Ozeroth ground his teeth, his eyes flickering as if cycling through countless ways to deal with Whisker.
Atticus chose not to dwell on it.
"…how's the situation out there? Anything new?"
"Huh? No. The Span's still boring as ever. Everyone's just keeping their heads down and obeying, spineless bastards. I swear, I can't wait to leave this place. Ah, right—Ozeroth wanted to ask. When are we heading to the Crown?"
"As soon as Freya becos a god."
"Hmm… that's why you've got those fools locked up at your tree, right? So what—are you actually going to have the little fairy kill a god to ascend?"
Atticus' gaze dimd slightly.
She had grown far beyond the fragile child she once was. It should have made the decision easier… yet for so reason, he still hesitated.
"…I'm not sure."
The thought of Freya killing soone in cold blood hardened his heart.
As they continued speaking, neither of them paid any attention to the bubbles gradually hovering around the room.
Far away, high above in the sky, a faint frown ford on Freya's face.
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