Atticus's Odyssey: Reincarnated Into A Playground novel Chapter 1407

Chapter 1407: Scale

To Atticus, the view of the world had changed.

The roaring armies, sounds of weapons clashing against one another, the deaths... all of it had fallen away.

The world had turned to a realm of silence.

Here, everything was clear. Correct. His brain no longer filtered information emotionally; perception and decision had become nigh instantaneous.

Through his sights, the world reduced itself to frames and vectors, movement and calculation.

Every sensory input was processed with mathematical clarity; sound, light, motion... all integrated into a predictive model.

In this world, Atticus felt more alive than he’d ever felt before. There were no limitations, no hesitation. Only angles, momentum and probabilities.

He saw what was, and acted with the certainty of a person who knew. A god.

Which was why, as he severed the grotesque arm of the second Sentinel, Atticus already knew what would come next.

The creature’s energy rippled unnaturally, spreading downward instead of out.

A tremor in the ground, minor at first, but inconsistent with recoil.

The weight distribution in the Sentinel’s stance shifted, its center of gravity pulling left while its core darkened.

A trap.

In less than a second, Atticus saw what was.

Darkness would surge upward in a column from beneath him, then a secondary strike from the flanks, meant to herd him toward the rear where a sword waited for him.

He moved before it happened.

The instant the darkness burst from the earth, he pivoted through the blind angles of the attack.

His movement folded three evasions into one seamless motion. The first pillar scraped the afterimage of his form, the second carved through empty air beside him, and the third erupted just behind as he spun.

His leg, following the arc of that rotation, screamed toward the exact point he had calculated the Sentinel would emerge.

The Sentinel’s eyes barely widened before the strike landed squarely on his masked face.

The impact detonated with such force that concentric shock circles rippled outward from the point of contact, distorting the air.

The Sentinel was flung backward in a blur, tearing through the horizon like a comet.

Cities, encampments, mountains, and oceans flashed beneath him; obliterated, split apart, or parted by the sheer wake of his flight.

Through the maelstrom of wind whipping against his back, he managed to raise his remaining hand to his face. His palm came back with a slick, dark liquid glistening across his fingers.

’He read me... again...’

His eyes trembled, wide with disbelief.

’What is he...?’

The sentinel’s main power stemmed from the manipulation of emotions. They could amplify, resonate and even feed off from it.

In a world of wills and beliefs, everyone had emotions, even the top echelons of the middle planes.

Without will, without the power to fight back, this power should be uncontested, absolute.

And yet... his ability was failing. His resonance could find no rhythm, no connection. The boy he faced was silent, dead to his influence.

’Why?’

Why did it feel like he was fighting a machine rather than a person? Just who in all the planes was this?

His thoughts were cut short. Through the cloak of roaring winds, Atticus appeared above him like a phantom, katana descending in a blinding arc.

The Sentinel’s eyes narrowed the moment he met those cold, emotionless orbs.

A primal instinct screamed at him; move! and he obeyed. His body split into two streams of darkness, narrowly avoiding the cleaving strike.

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