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, meeting each blow with precise deflections as they came.
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 moment, 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. Flames erupted, condensing into searing beams that tore 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 flame 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 same motion, he turned, seized her momentum, and hurled her over his shoulder, slamming 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 moment 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 meant 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 clear displeasure.
"But brother Atticus, did you really have to slam me that hard? Aren’t I supposed to be your little fairy? Is that how you treat someone you love?"
"...you are. But the world isn’t safe. I have to prepare you."


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