The tension that engulfed the underground world was suffocating, so heavy that many struggled to breathe.
The Starhaven bloodline was already considered talentless when it ca to mana. However, the people of the underground world were those whose talents in spiritual energy were deed so poor that no spirit had ever chosen to bond with them. In simple terms, they were utterly powerless.
Most found themselves clutching their chests, sinking to their knees, gasping for air as though the weight of the world pressed down on them.
For the spirits, though, it was different.
For several minutes now, an overwhelming killing intent had blanketed the underground world, radiating from the spirits that road freely under the eternal canopy.
The spirits present here were mostly lower-level entities, ones less restricted than their higher-tiered counterparts. Earlier, they had simply been drifting peacefully through the air, but in the next mont, they had all felt it, the sudden and devastating loss of their kind.
Spirits rarely fought amongst themselves. They served one king and existed in near-perfect harmony, living peaceful lives devoid of much conflict except when attacked by an outside force. But now, that peace had been shattered.
The spirits were fiercely protective of their own. While they rarely engaged in combat, they shared an unyielding sense of unity and loyalty. To harm one was to provoke them all.
Now, with so many of their kind slaughtered, rage consud the remaining spirits. Their collective gaze turned toward the direction of the spiritual lake.
Yet, none of them moved.
Their anger was palpable, but they were not fools. Each one of them could feel the presence emanating from the lake, a presence so overwhelming that they knew they stood no chance.
Hovering in the air, their anger grew. But they waited, ready to descend upon the lake at the first opportunity.
But it was yet to be seen whether waiting in the underground world was the wisest choice.
At the Spiritual Lake, the tension was unlike anything else.
The air vibrated with such intensity that it felt as though the very atmosphere would shatter. If there were any glass nearby, it would have fractured into countless shards.
The ground trembled despite the stillness of those present, and the oppressive energy weighed down on everyone like an unrelenting force.
Atticus stood at the center, his gaze locked on the five figures hovering high in the sky. His mind raced, faster than it ever had before.
'The Obsidian Order.'
The thought rang loudly in his head, and surprisingly, he was a bit surprised. Not because of the figures hovering in the sky. No. Because of sothing he had just noticed.
He was calm. Dangerously so.
Floating above him in the sky were Alvis, Elysia, Cassandra, Vorak, Gideon, and, most importantly, Blackgate.
A paragon.
Atticus's thoughts sharpened as he assessed the situation. He wasn't naive. He knew his current power surpassed the level of a grandmaster rank individual. If it were just the other mbers of the Obsidian Order, the fight would have been over in an instant.
But Blackgate was there.
A paragon.
Atticus couldn't fight a paragon. He couldn't even hope to touch one.
He understood his predicant clearly.
From the mont he arrived in the underground world, he had known sothing was off. Despite ditating and training for days on the surface, he had never once sensed the existence of this underground world.
His perception, plus the techniques of multiple races, was one of his greatest strengths, and yet, the ground below had appeared to him as nothing more than a dense cluster of spiritual energy.
Even Seraphina, a paragon herself, wouldn't have been able to sense any fluctuations from the surface.
In simple terms, he was alone.
He couldn't expect help. He couldn't fight a paragon. He couldn't outrun one, either.
And yet, despite all these devastating truths, he was calm.
'The spiritual energy.'
From the mont he entered Sector 8, Atticus had felt a peculiar sense of peace. Initially, he had assud it was the Eternal Canopy standing at the heart of the sector.
But now, he realized it was sothing far greater.
It was the spiritual energy itself.
Currently, within his body, an enormous amount of spiritual energy flowed in harmony with his mana, filling him with a profound sense of calm that was difficult to put into words.
His heartbeat was steady, his breathing asured, and his katana rested tightly in his grasp. As the seconds ticked by, his aura grew steadily, almost palpable.
He was outnumbered. He was outmatched.
He couldn't win this. He couldn't escape this.
So, he would fight.
The overwhelming pressure bore down on him like an unyielding storm, yet Atticus stood tall, his deanor exuding an unshakable calm that sent a ripple of unease through those watching from above.
His mind raced, analyzing everything. After a mont, he settled on his next course of action.
Among the branch heads gathered behind Blackgate, none were more shocked than Alvis and Elysia.
They were the two who shared a history with him.
Alvis, in particular, had faced Atticus multiple tis in the past. On each occasion, he had the opportunity to end the boy's life for good, yet sothing had always intervened at the last mont.
It was a regret that haunted Alvis daily.
If only he had gone all out from the start and killed the boy. If only he had taken that step, then the monstrosity now standing before him wouldn't have co to pass.
In their previous clashes, Alvis had always held the upper hand. He had been confident in his dominance over the boy.
But now, as he stood in the sky and gazed down at Atticus, he instinctively knew the truth, he wouldn't last a single second against him.
'Good thing we decided to be careful.'
Alvis felt relieved as he glanced at Blackgate. The paragon had insisted on joining them for this mission.
Initially, they had been confident that the branch heads alone would be enough to handle Atticus with a well-executed plan.
How wrong they had been.
This relief was mirrored by Elysia. She was the reason Freya had died, and she knew it. If they had co here without Blackgate, Elysia shuddered to think of the fate that would have awaited her.
She couldn't forget those cold, emotionless eyes of his, eyes that promised tornt.
But with Blackgate here, she didn't have to worry.
Atticus was dood.
Yet, as they gazed down at the boy standing calmly before a paragon, their expressions were filled with shock.
Why was he so calm?
The other branch heads were equally stunned by Atticus's composure.
At this point, they all understood one thing clearly: Atticus was far from being stupid.
He was stronger than them, this much they knew, but against a paragon? He was still a child by comparison.
And yet, his katana vibrated intensely in his hand, radiating his rising battle intent like a relentless tide.
There was no doubt about it, he planned to fight.
While the branch heads were reeling from the sheer audacity of his resolve, the one person who held the power to decide everyone's fate wore a grin.
Blackgate's grin was wild, almost feral.
If the branch heads had seen it, they would've been utterly speechless.
None of them had ever seen Blackgate smile.
It was as rare as sweet salt. Impossible.
And yet, it was happening.
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