Atticus's Odyssey: Reincarnated Into A Playground novel Chapter 1376

Chapter 1376: He Was

“The path to Logoth must be achieved, not taught. I can only guide you, but you must walk the path alone.”

Atticus felt Anorah vanish the moment she spoke, and the pressure resting on him deepened.

‘This is annoying.’ Atticus cursed. He had always found situations like this insane. He felt the same way during the life weapon’s trial.

To him, he could never understand why there was any need of not giving him the end goal.

If the katana had shown him the art from the start, Atticus was sure he wouldn’t have taken as much time as he did to learn it.

And he believed the same for this situation. He was trying to achieve something, why not just tell him what he was trying to do so he would simply just do it?

Atticus cleared his thoughts.

‘There’s no helping it.’ He had to focus, and focus he did.

He had gotten a monkish vibe from the whole thing, so he had determined that it would mostly deal with reaching a sort of enlightenment.

Atticus focused on everything he was currently feeling. The weight pressing him down. The smoothness of the floor. His body…

His body stole his focus. Right now, Atticus was the weakest he had ever been in his life. His mana was locked, and Will restrained. Not even the passive power of mana remained.

He felt… mortal. Like mundane things like thirst and hunger could kill him.

He had resolved to keep a leveled head throughout this ordeal. To calmly assess the situation and reach the best possible conclusion. No matter what, keeping a calm mind would bring the solution to light.

However, a day passed, and he found it impossible.

In this state, being forced down and not able to do anything, Atticus felt only one thing. Anger.

He had no more superior intelligence. Without mana to fuel his thoughts, it had reduced to the snail’s pace that was the ordinary mind.

Atticus found himself clenching and unclenching his fists. He fought.

His every instinct screamed to unleash his Will and burn the restrictions to bits. Just a little Will, and he would have his power back.

His overwhelming power that made him seem like he was on top of the world. That he could do anything.

He was a god. Gods do not grovel as he currently did. They dominate, with pure, absolute power.

Just a flicker of Will, and his power would surge back.

‘No.’

Atticus clenched his teeth, fighting the urge. He had never thought himself to be so drunk on his power that he couldn’t go a day without it.

‘The path. The path. The path.’

Atticus began repeating the words like a mantra, attempting to distract his mind from his apparent weakness.

It worked, as he found something new to focus on. However, it only lasted for a bit. By the end of the second day, anger overwhelmed every part of him.

“Shit!” He growled, struggling to stand. But the weight simply pressed harder on him. His body was filled with rage. He felt small, weak. Stripped of everything that defined him.

His anger kept on growing, and the only thing that kept him from using his Will was his pride. Doing so was cheating, and if he did, it meant he had simply wasted two days of his time.

The fourth day came, but it wasn’t in a blur. Atticus had felt every single minute, every single second.

Rather than the morning sunlight, what greeted him was thirst. Atticus couldn’t remember when he last felt thirsty. It seemed so long ago.

And though he knew that no normal human could go a day without feeling thirsty, not to talk of three, it did little to dampen his shock.

The thirst brought about another wave of anger, and Atticus found himself growling and attempting to stand.

On day six, Atticus’s anger gave way to pure desperation.

‘I need my power.’ The thought continued to thunder in his head all day. ‘Without it, I’m nothing.’

The thoughts circled like vultures around prey. By this point, he had begun clawing at the ground, leaving marks on the wood, nails bleeding. Atticus had never felt so desperate in his life.

Regardless, he didn’t unleash his Will. It was then he realized the extent of his addiction to his power.

The eighth day gave way to something new. Hunger.

His stomach growled, head fuzzy, and he felt a wave of weakness assault him. He was tired, and so were his thoughts.

‘What’s the point?’ The thought slithered in his mind. ‘You can’t do this without power. You’ve always needed it. Without it, you’re nothing.’

The silence of the room was deafening, and within it, Atticus felt truly tired. What was the point of all this? Was this even worth it? Was Anorah playing a prank on him?

He had thought it weird initially. She was a saint, right? Wasn’t she supposed to pray to some god or something, like all other saints do?

Atticus suddenly realized that he never truly knew the saint. Yet, he had allowed her to do all of this without any contract binding them. Had he truly trusted a stranger?

‘She’s lying to me.’ Another slithering thought. She was a liar. This training was all but a sham. Just a flicker of his Will, and he would break out of this.

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