The Saint scoffed, as though challenged. She looked straight at him, and Atticus met her eyes.
"What is your goal?"
"To reach the peak."
"No matter what?"
"I’ll claw my way up if I have to. But I’ll only do what is necessary."
"And what if you consider killing me and retrieving the fragment as necessary. Will you do it?"
"It depends."
The Saint’s eyes flashed cold. "On what?"
Atticus’ eyes didn’t so much as flicker. He matched coldness with coldness. "Are you standing in my way, or not?"
"Oh." The Saint smiled, amused. She took a step closer, and her scent almost made Atticus waver.
"You think you can handle me? Are your balls thick enough?"
"They are." Atticus smiled.
"Should we give it a try then?"
A flash, and they both vanished from the balcony, appearing in a vast, endless land.
It was a wasteland, nothing in sight for thousands of kilometers. But Atticus wasn’t focused on the landscape.
His eyes couldn’t leave the figure radiating a blinding purple light, hovering in the air. She looked like the embodiment of a goddess.
Atticus felt a wave of authority hit him, and for a moment he felt he should bow and submit.
"Well?" The Saint spoke, her voice echoing from everywhere.
"Do you think you can handle me?"
A crimson glow erupted from Atticus, encompassing his body. But in the next moment, his eyes furrowed, his thick crimson will had suddenly begun to flicker.
’My earlier assumption was right.’
He had discovered it while battling the sentinels: Solvath’s energy could make wills unstable.
The Saint stretched her hand. A wave of purple converged, rippling with pure power. Atticus didn’t miss the smile on her face.
"Let’s put your balls to the test."
A beam of purple blasted from her palm, surging toward him.
Atticus could barely control his will. As the beam neared, the realization struck.
’I have to use Solvath’s power.’
He became one with the emotions raging within him. His eyes flashed purple, crimson flickering to bright violet.
He stretched out his arm, and a beam of purple erupted with force.
Violet met violet, and for a moment, the night skies bathed in purple light.
But Atticus failed to witness its greatness. Darkness claimed him.
...
The Big Bang of the world. The betrayal. His... father. Then, his beautiful mother on Earth.
Atticus’ eyes snapped open to find himself lying on the ground. He sat up, scanning his surroundings.
"You’re awake."
He turned toward the soft voice. The Saint lay just beside him, her eyes fixed on the skies.
"I passed out..."
"You did." She turned toward him, an amused smile on her lips. "Looks like your balls aren’t as thick as you thought. You fainted like a lady." She giggled.
Atticus scowled. He felt as though he’d been stabbed a hundred times. He laid back beside her, feeling a strange semblance of peace.
"What’s your obsession with balls anyway? You don’t even have any."
"My nonexistent balls are thicker than what any of you men have. And when you grow up in a family of prideful men, you pick up one or two."
"Your family... where are they now?"
The Saint suddenly fell silent, and Atticus didn’t miss the sadness in the air.
"I see." He turned his eyes toward the countless stars littering the skies, resisting the urge to press further. He chose to change the subject.
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