Atticus's Odyssey: Reincarnated Into A Playground

Chapter 1344: Loser

The suns met, and for a brief moment, all everyone could see was blinding scarlet.

As the light dimmed and vanished, the furry creature shook off its shock and clapped.

"Team Baron Nerrot failed to land a hit. Team God Atticus successfully defended. Still zero strikes for Baron Nerrot."

"Team God Atticus, are you ready for your last turn?"

"Yes," Ozeroth’s response came immediately.

"Begin."

A moment later, the same shifting ball formed in front of Ozeroth before shooting forwards with blinding speed.

Despite the incoming attack, Nerrot’s eyes stared at empty space, lost. Jargon forcefully snapped out of his reverie and tried to replicate the art.

Again, he failed.

The ball struck Nerrot’s face, jerking his head back. Now, with blue paint mixing with yellow and red, Nerrot’s face was drenched in paint. He looked like a clown, one going through a midlife crisis.

"Team God Atticus succeeded in landing a hit. Team Baron Nerrot failed to defend. Three strikes for God Atticus."

The furry creature allowed his words to settle before turning towards Atticus.

"The game is over, three to none. Team God Atticus wins. The fulfillment of the agreed upon terms shall be carried out."

The words barely registered in Nerrot’s ears. It was only when he felt his will dwindle did he snap out of his trance.

"M-my will..."

The vast pool of will he had access to was being siphoned. Nerrot followed the light to see it surging towards Atticus.

"N-no wait!" Nerrot thundered, panicking. He tried to fight the pull, but nothing seemed to be working. It was futile.

"My liege!"

Jargon appeared before him, eyes filled with shame and guilt. It had been his job to stop the strikes, and he had failed.

"What can I—"

Nerrot’s backhand sent him hurtling away with a deformed face.

"No! You can’t do this!" Nerrot’s voice boomed, echoing across space. "He must have cheated! I call for a rematch!"

He sounded like a madman on his last ropes.

"My father is the viscount! He’ll have all your heads!" He tried to move towards Atticus, but an unseen weight held him in place. He settled on glaring at Atticus instead.

"You! Tell the verge you recall this match or I promise you your entire world will be burned to the ground. I will see to it that you watch your family die! Recall the match!"

When he saw that Atticus didn’t even bother to spare him a glance, his eyes blazed hotter.

"You fucking bastard! I’ll kill you! I’ll fucking kill you! My father will not stand for this! You crazy—"

"How pathetic."

The voice seemed to echo from the universe. It came from everywhere.

"I expected more from a major faction. Or is this pathetic trait only existing in your lineage, Viscount Merek."

It didn’t take long for people to realize who had just spoken. The Great Verge!

What the hell was he doing here?

Before any of them could wonder, a bright light ignited meters away from Nerrot, and a figure emerged. Nerrot’s eyes widened.

"Father!"

"Speak one more word and I’ll cut your head off myself."

Viscount Merek Dross was an imposing figure. Tall and broad, with a youthful vigor that belied his millennia of age.

He was clad in a cloak of pure scarlet and the intensity of his eyes on Nerrot could blaze planets.

Merek glanced away from his son and bowed to nowhere in particular.

"This lowly one apologizes for this pathetic display, Great Verge. It seems I still lack in the aspect of raising my kin."

"Being a sore loser is a trait I’ve discovered is hereditary. Your other son was one too, after all. This might be a stain in the makings of your lineage."

The viscount didn’t react to the blatant insult. After all, there was no one who didn’t know who the Great Verge was.

"I can assure you, Great Verge, the Dross lineage is honorable. We accept our loss when it comes."

The Great Verge went silent for a moment. "I see. Alright, I shall forgive this transgression."

"Thank you, Great Ver—"

"But a favor must be repaid with a favor. Is that not so?"

Merek froze. ’Of course.’ He’d almost forgotten how sly the Great Verge was. There was no way he wouldn’t take advantage of this situation.

"Of course, Great Verge. Might I ask what you require?"

"Your feud with this newly ascended god is unbecoming for a faction of your standing," the Great Verge said. "Save it until the Ascendant Games."

Viscount Merek narrowed his eyes. ’He’s trying to help... him.’

His expression hardened as he glanced at Atticus. The child was calmly watching them converse, it was insane, considering the magnitude of the beings currently talking.

’I can’t.’ Merek’s eyes were cold.

After everything that occurred today, he’d resolved to handle Atticus no matter the cost. He could even copy viscount ranked art! Leaving him to grow would be a mistake.

"I’m afraid I don’t have such authority, Great Verge."

"It seems like stupidity also runs in your blood. I wasn’t talking to you."

Merek’s expression turned confused. If he wasn’t speaking to him, then who?

"This lowly one greets the Great Verge." Another light ignited and a figure appeared from it.

Though it was just a construct, Merek recognized who it was in an instant.

’Count Thane.’

The avatar sank to one knee in respect.

"Count Thane Veylor. I hope this poison hasn’t afflicted your lineage."

"I assure you, Great Verge, House Veylor accepts losses when due."

"Good." The Great Verge seemed glad by his answer. "So? What do you say?"

As the issuer of the burning, the count had the most say.

"I have a question first, Great Verge."

"Ask away."

"When the Ascendant Games comes, the Redflames can do with him as we wish?"

A chuckle rumbled through the world. And though the he responded to Thane, Atticus felt all the Verge’s attention lock onto him.

"Of course. Do, if you can."