Atticus’s Odyssey: Reincarnated Into A Playground

Chapter 1268: Caldera

“We were about to attack you?” Zenon asked, realization dawning. One glance at the cold, clenched faces of Magnus and Aric confirmed they had come to the same conclusion.

Atticus gave a small nod.

Their expressions darkened. Magnus and Aric clenched their fists, while Zenon sucked in a sharp breath.

Atticus could see the turmoil in their eyes. He understood. None of them expected to become a burden, not here, not now.

But there was no time for reflection.

“They planned it this way,” Atticus said, gaze steady. “The will restriction was so I wouldn’t be able to shield you. And they’re changing the mana signature constantly, so negation wouldn’t work. They were expecting us.”

The words hit hard. Magnus, Aric, and Zenon pushed aside their frustration the moment they heard them.

“Then how did you free us from the illusion?” Zenon asked, glancing around at the dome still surrounding them.

Atticus gave a quick explanation. It had been simple, at least on the surface, but in truth, it had taken focus, ingenuity, and a tremendous amount of control. By the time he was done, Zenon sucked in another cold breath.

Atticus had created a dome of mana around them, then rapidly altered the mana signature of its outer barrier so the sigil wouldn’t be able to recognize and manipulate it.

The mana inside the dome remained stationary and neutral. That same mana had then been used to produce a wave of negation that canceled the illusion’s effects.

“Eldoralth?” Magnus asked after a moment, his tone serious.

“I don’t think Eldoralth was warned,” Atticus replied. “Quiet Flame would’ve said something. But that’s not the issue right now. The point is, we need to reach the core as fast as possible. We don’t know what’s happening there.”

The moment he finished, he was met with serious nods.

Atticus turned toward the horizon, and without another word, they all shot forward in unison, tearing through the wasteland like comets.

Despite their incredible speed, Atticus’ focus didn’t waver. The mana dome still enclosed them, and he continued shifting its outer signature constantly, keeping the sigil’s influence at bay.

’We’re nearing the water.’

The massive body of water he had seen earlier was growing larger by the second, they were almost out of the wasteland.

Atticus glanced at the others. They met his gaze and instantly understood. A new area awaited. New threats.

And worse, unknown ones.

They surged ahead, gazes hardened, guards raised to their peak.

“Stop.”

The group halted abruptly at Atticus’ word, the sudden stop sending a powerful gust blasting outward.

They each turned toward a different direction, eyes narrowed, scanning for any signs of movement.

But a second passed. Nothing.

Then, Magnus, Aric, and Zenon turned to their front, and froze.

Atticus and Ozeroth’s expressions had gone cold. Their golden eyes were fixed ahead, gazes sharp, locked on something in the distance.

From the confused looks on the others’ faces, it was clear, they couldn’t see what Atticus and Ozeroth were seeing.

But the aura, the sheer stillness and weight of the killing intent rolling off the two said everything.

Something was there. Something bad.

“Wha—”

Zenon began to speak, but Atticus’ cold voice cut through his word.

“We’re surrounded.”

In an instant, hands reached for weapons. The others closed the distance between themselves and Atticus, standing with backs to him, eyes sharp and scanning.

“We can’t see them,” Zenon muttered a second later. His voice was tense.

They were being cautious and preparing themselves, but how were they supposed to fight what they couldn’t see?

“They’ll reveal themselves now.”

Atticus’ words felt like a decree, and it brought about the change they had been waiting for.

Their world shifted.

One moment, they were standing in the middle of a wasteland, with a large body of water in the distance. The next, they were in the center of a bowl-shaped valley, a caldera.

Massive mountains surrounded the region on all sides, forming a natural enclosure like a colossal coliseum. The terrain was wide and flat at the center, but that wasn’t what drew their attention.

It was the uncountable number of warships surrounding the region.

They blotted out the skies in every direction, their black iron hulls stretching as far as the eye could see. The sun could barely pierce through the dense wall of ships.

And below the skies, the mountains were lined with battalions of soldiers, row after row, each perfectly ordered despite the jagged, uneven terrain. Their gazes were locked and hardened, their killing intent drenching the air like thick fog.

The mountains were so massive, it was truly a wonder how they had missed them before now.

High above, suspended in the skies, a group of individuals hovered in a straight line. The winds whipped and howled, but not a single gust touched them.

They were clad in identical black military uniforms, sharp and perfectly fitted, with a single insignia etched into their chests…

The portrait of their god, Nex.

Amongst the soldiers of the world Vortharion, only one unit was permitted to bear that insignia.

Warbringers.

In Vortharion, Warbringers were weapons of mass destruction, the elite of the elite, second only to their god Nex himself. Each one had mastered every known aspect of cognitive mana manipulation. Just one was enough to lay waste to a continent.

But today, to stand against the god of Eldoralth and protect their world, all fifteen had gathered.

The air above was tense and heavy as they hovered, each radiating a terrifying presence. Every single one wore a different expression, but all were as imposing and powerful as the last.

Their eyes locked on Atticus, narrowed and intense, scrutinizing every inch of him.

“Remember. Do not underestimate him,” Elesha, the Warbringer with red hair and blazing eyes, suddenly said, her gaze fixed cautiously on Atticus.

Another scoffed immediately. “He walked right into this trap though. Maybe he’s not as smart as they say he is.”

Elesha frowned and turned toward the brown haired man with the imposing build, Dekon. He wore an annoying smirk, the kind that came naturally to someone who looked like a born bully.

“He outsmarted and defeated three gods,” Elesha said flatly. “Did you forget that?”

Dekon shrugged. “Maybe they’re not as smart or strong as we thought they were.”

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