Atticus's Odyssey: Reincarnated Into A Playground novel Chapter 1717

Chapter 1717: Silence

"Manifest."

His irises split between white and gold. As the king’s massive hammer plummeted, Atticus erupted.

The force slammed into the king and hurled him back. He regained his footing and immediately looked ahead.

A massive flaming silhouette clawed into the heavens. The temperature skyrocketed, the ground across the wasteland fusing into glass. Then the enormous figure rapidly shrank.

The king’s eyes narrowed grimly.

The haze around Atticus gradually cleared, revealing his new form. Whitish flames burned across one half of his body, golden flames across the other.

The sheer power radiating from him froze every soul present.

A faint intrigued smile touched the Pride Queen’s lips. Freya’s eyes shone like twin suns. This... this was Atticus at full power.

Behind them, the queen’s guards went rigid. To think the child they had once looked down upon possessed such terrifying strength. Many slowly turned toward Unive, who trembled subtly. Now they understood.

The others stared at Atticus with varying emotions. Yet none could deny the awe flickering within their eyes.

"You... you can use Manifest?"

The king’s eyes trembled. Manifest was a power centered around the kings and queens of the Second Crown.

Monsters who had spent millennia refining themselves through endless battle and meditation. It was definitely not something a boy barely over a century old should possess.

And even more frightening... that control. This was not newly awakened power.

The king grit his teeth, his armor blazing brighter.

"This changes noth—"

A silver blade filled his vision.

A shield flashed before him. Atticus’ katana tore straight through it, but the brief delay gave the king enough time to tilt his head aside. The blade tore past him.

Blood trickled down his cheek. The king’s eyes narrowed. He hadn’t even seen the attack.

A thin sword flashed into his grasp as he lunged forward and thrust with all his might.

But Atticus vanished.

The blade pierced empty air.

The king’s eyes darted rapidly, searching.

’Behind me.’

He spun instantly and attacked. Blade met blade in a flash of roaring light and force. White and gold clashing violently, their eyes locked midair.

Then they vanished.

Flashes of white and gold erupted across the wasteland. The king’s armor radiated brilliantly, weapons continuously cycling through his grasp as he attacked from every direction.

Yet Atticus had become a phantom. Whitish flames engulfed his body entirely now. No longer blade and shield. Only blade. His speed soared beyond anything he had displayed before.

Clashing.

Clashing.

Clashing.

Every collision unleashed violent force that drowned the wasteland in suffocating pressure.

No one moved. Not because they didn’t want to... but because the pressure pouring from the battle rooted them in place.

Seconds passed. The wasteland became ruin. Massive craters scarred the earth, yet neither stopped. They surged into the heavens, colliding endlessly until the skies themselves were engulfed in white and gold.

Through the chaos, the king grit his teeth.

’I can’t keep this up.’

His manifestation granted him an enormous arsenal of ancient weapons, but not an infinite one. He had intended to overwhelm Atticus through sheer volume, yet he was burning through his arsenal at a terrifying rate.

’And besides...’

Constantly clashing against Atticus’ will... it was affecting his own. Corroding it. Gradually weakening it.

The king’s expression paled.

Was he... going to lose?

Blade collided with blade in another violent burst of light. Yet this time, shockingly, the king’s weapon held. His eyes narrowed. What changed?

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