Atticus's Odyssey: Reincarnated Into A Playground novel Chapter 1403

Chapter 1403: Interference

"Challenged. How would you like to proceed? To the Arena of Gods? Or a chosen theme?"

For a moment, silence descended across all of Asterra.

Due to it occurring before, many would likely take situations like this to be a normal occurrence. But they couldn’t be more wrong.

It was rare that the Great Verge would take such interest in any battle between gods. Though it wasn’t a surprise that an arbiter had appeared, the fact that it had declared the Great Verge’s presence was the confusing and shocking part.

Anorah found her expression turning cold. Both choices were dangerous in their respective ways. As the challenged, the Sentinels had the choice of choosing how they fought.

They could choose to battle two-to-one in the Arena of Gods, or one-on-one if they wished.

As for the second option, it was even more unpredictable. There was an incalculable number of themes they could choose, each one unfavorable to her.

"A chosen theme."

Anorah’s eyes sharpened.

’As expected.’

She had been outplayed, and her people were currently being held hostage. Regardless, she had never been one to give up until the end. She would fight until her last breath.

"The challenged has chosen a theme battle. Does the challenger accept?"

The eyes of the Will Guard turned to Anorah, and she didn’t miss the coldness that went through them. They were threatening her.

"Yes."

As Anorah responded, the furry creature smiled.

"Spectacular!" it said, turning toward the Sentinels. "Challenged! Choose your th—"

It stopped mid sentence, freezing suddenly. One clawed hand rose to its temple, its glassy eyes losing focus. The air around it rippled faintly.

’It’s communicating... with the Verge,’ Anorah realized.

For a few seconds, the creature stood there motionless, before its eyes refocused, and this time, a huge grin split its face, showing rows of sharp, gleaming teeth.

"Rejoice!" it announced dramatically, raising its tiny arms like a preacher. "The Great Verge has graced us with his wisdom!"

It waited, but only silence greeted it.

The creature blinked its large eyes, then looked around expectantly. "...That’s the part where you cheer," it said, stretching its paw farther into the air.

Still nothing.

Its smile twitched, and it let out an exaggerated sigh. "Ugh. Philistines. None of you deserve my master."

It let out a frustrated sigh, tail flicking, before clearing its throat and composing itself again.

"Ahem! The Great Verge, in his merciful wisdom," it said, glaring at everyone, "has decided that, for the sake of fairness, he will personally choose the theme of this battle!"

It straightened its fur proudly, as if expecting applause. But none came.

"Honestly," it muttered under its breath, "no sense of ceremony, any of you."

Instead of the expected cheer, a cold voice answered.

"What is the meaning of this, creature?" the first Sentinel asked. He was taller than the other; his eyes burned like embers behind his mask.

"This goes against the major rules your Verge has created."

The furry thing turned slowly toward them. If looks could kill, they would be dead. It sniffed theatrically.

"The Great Verge does not have to explain himself to the likes of you. Know your place. If you don’t like it, you’re welcome to leave the Verge and crawl back to the pit you emerged from."

The Sentinels’ masked faces hardly moved, but their eyes leaked an ugly heat. They stared daggers at the creature but said nothing.

They were not going anywhere.

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