’But it’s not over.’
The negation field should have affected everyone equally. Meaning the Willguard shouldn’t be able to...
Atticus’ eyes narrowed sharply.
’Of course.’
When had the universe ever gone their way?
A thick golden armor now encased the sentinel and his champions. A glowing gem sat in the center of each chest, thin vein like lines spreading across the plates like circuitry.
Even from a distance, Atticus felt their wills pressing down on him.
They had found a way to use will despite the negation field.
"So... any chance you’ve come up with a plan to survive this situation with that big brain of yours?" Whisker asked, eyes flicking toward Atticus.
"You’re supposed to be the one with the big brains, remember?"
Whisker let out a dry chuckle. "Yeah... but impossible situations are your specialty, not mine."
"Why is no one asking Ozeroth?"
They both turned to him, shared a look, then nodded.
"We’re all ears. Tell us your plan."
Ozeroth coughed loudly. "I only said why is no one asking the great Ozeroth, not that I have a plan!"
Atticus resisted the urge to rub his face and instead stared at him flatly.
"What’s with that look?" Ozeroth snapped. "Someone of my greatness doesn’t need to think. We leave that to our lessers."
"Ah! What a beautiful way of saying you’re brainless," Whisker said with a grin, earning a murderous glare from Ozeroth.
Atticus shook his head. The situation could not be more dire, and yet somehow they still found space to argue.
"Atticus."
He turned. Magnus’ gaze was steady, serious.
"What’s the plan?"
Atticus met his eyes, held the weight of that trust for a heartbeat, then nodded. He faced the others.
"We destroy that tree. No matter what it takes."
The humor vanished instantly. Their expressions sharpened, turning cold and focused. It was as if none of them had ever joked at all.
They turned to their opponents. Each one was encased in gold, radiating a pressure powerful enough to crush mountains.
Atticus and the sentinel locked eyes. The world seemed to still. His katana trembled faintly in his grip, calling to him, but he forced it into silence.
’Not yet.’
He shut out everything, allowing himself to focus on only one thing. The sentinel.
"Attack."
A blur, and Atticus appeared before the sentinel in a gale, his katana splitting the sky with a descending slash.
The sentinel’s eyes widened. Even at an overwhelming disadvantage, Atticus still struck first.
His twin blades flashed, one rising to meet Atticus’ katana in a violent clash that blasted wind in every direction.
The sentinel’s eyes constricted.
"That weapon... how is it still whole?"
Will as a power source was absolute. In the middle planes, no ordinary energy could ever withstand it.
’He knows what it is.’
Atticus had no doubt. No one feared something so deeply without understanding exactly what it meant. He forced the urge to pry further down and turned his attention to the others.
Whisker, Ozeroth, and Noctis were barely holding their own against their opponents. But...
’Grandpa.’
Magnus was a streak of lightning, darting desperately from one spot to another as he evaded his attacker.
Even from a distance Atticus could see it, Magnus was in trouble. His earlier power boost meant nothing under the negation field, and now it was painfully clear he was barely staying afloat.
There was no time to waste.
’Exo suit.’
Atticus tapped his chest, and a mold of blackness burst outward, encasing him in a suit that clung to his body like a second skin. A crimson shroud ignited across the face as his eyes flared to life.
The sentinel wasn’t the only one with a suit capable of conducting will.
Atticus felt his will surge, flooding through his body in heat and multiplying his strength.
"How...!?"
The sentinel’s grip tightened around his weapons as Atticus vanished from sight. But the attack he expected never came.
He spun sharply, his eyes snapping toward the tree just as Atticus appeared high above it, katana carving a massive crescent slash that tore downward.
"Don’t tell me..."
Atticus had never been after him.
He had been aiming for the tree from the very beginning.
The slash struck the trunk in an explosion that swallowed the horizon.

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