Atticus's Odyssey: Reincarnated Into A Playground

Chapter 1372: Brazen

"Rough night?"

Atticus turned toward the voice, and just by the ledge of the balcony, was the Saint. The other marked.

The night air suddenly became warm. Atticus turned back towards the sprawling city.

"Rough day."

"I can imagine. I felt the same way when I first awakened my mark."

Atticus was a bit taken aback by how open she sounded. Nice, even. Like she was speaking to an old friend.

"So you didn’t just awaken your mark?" He pretended not to know.

"I think it was pretty obvious." Her lips curled slightly, teasing, as though daring him to admit it.

There was a moment of silence between them, where neither said anything.

"Are you here to also try to recruit me?" Atticus broke the silence.

"No."

"Then why are you here?"

Atticus turned towards the Saint, who met his eyes without flinching.

"Because I wanted to talk."

The Saint dropped down from the ledge, walking towards him. Atticus had only ever needed a glance at a person to be able to tell all their features.

However, as the Saint approached, he couldn’t help but notice new things about her. Her full, pink lips. Her piercing eyes that seemed to see through all. Her scent overwhelmed his senses, and he had to take a breath to calm.

The Saint stopped beside him, overlooking the city.

Atticus wasn’t quite sure what her age was, but she clearly didn’t look it. She stood at 5 feet 11, petite, according to Atticus’s standards anyway. But she had a certain air of authority, like someone used to leading.

"So, how do you feel currently?" she asked softly, tilting her head as though she genuinely cared.

Atticus snapped out of his thoughts, almost chiding himself.

"Terrible."

"How so?" Her brows drew together, eyes studying him.

Atticus paused, as though to consider the question.

"Different emotions," he finally said. "Anger, rage, betrayal... but to be honest, all of them feel like... steps, and each one is pushing you closer to the same end..."

"Revenge." The Saint finished for him, her voice a whisper.

Atticus turned towards her.

"Revenge."

Their eyes held a beat too long.

’So this is why.’

He was now starting to understand why he felt pulled. Why it felt like he was conversing with an old friend rather than a stranger he met the day before.

’The fragment.’

There was nothing that brought two people together than sharing the same emotions. They all felt the same thing, saw the same thing. Solvath’s end, his emotions. But the only difference was, she had lived with it far longer than he.

Atticus had questions.

"Why did you help me?"

"Honest answer?"

"Yes."

"Because I was curious."

"About me?" Atticus asked. About the fragment, he surmised internally.

"Oh, don’t flatter yourself." The Saint turned toward him and narrowed her beautiful eyes. "I’ve seen finer men. I was curious about meeting another kin of Solvath."

Atticus coughed, trying to ignore the challenge in her words. To him, they felt like an insult. Never had anyone looked down on his appearance before. But he caught himself quickly. Every retort in his head sounded childish.

"You know what we’re supposed to do, right?"

The Saint suddenly smiled, and it was one that made Atticus pause, awestruck, even.

"You mean kill ourselves?" She chuckled, light and melodic. "Yeah, I know."

"Instead, you’re helping me."

"Looks like." She glanced sideways at him, smirk tugging at her lips as though she enjoyed catching him off guard.

Atticus stared at the Saint and suddenly felt the urge to pull his hair out. He didn’t know what irritated him the most.

Was it her nonchalance? Or was it the way she halfheartedly answered his questions? Or was it the fact that she was able to get such a reaction from him?

Atticus acted with emotions only when he cared about something. But they’d only just met, that should be impossible, right?

Atticus calmed himself.

"You don’t plan on gathering the fragments?"

"Sounds like too much work for no reward." The Saint shook her head, as though dreading the very thought.

"Absolute power isn’t enough reward for you?"

The Saint suddenly burst into laughter, surprising Atticus. Even her laughter sounded so clear, so good, that he caught himself staring.

"You’re funny." She finally stopped laughing, her demeanor shifting. "Absolute power is what everyone strives for. There’s no better reward."

"Then why—"

"But it can only be worth it when it’s you in control of this power." Her voice hardened. "We only bonded with a fragment of him, out of countless, yet our emotions are already plagued. This anger, this anguish, the vengeance we so desperately desire... they’re not ours. We’re being led by just a fragment."

Atticus felt the coldness in her voice, the disdain.

’She’s angry.’ he realized. Angry about the fact that she was being controlled.

The Saint continued.

"What do you think will happen if we bond with the rest?"

"We’ll get taken over."

The Saint nodded. "Absolute power without free will. There’s no greater punishment."

’Why do I trust her words...’

Was it because of the fragment? No, Atticus shook his head.

’Because she’s not hiding anything.’ He had noticed it from the beginning. The Saint had opened herself since her arrival. She hadn’t spoken any deceitful words.

A moment of utter silence passed between the two. Atticus found himself smiling. He loved conversing without the need for mind games. He felt like he could be himself.

"So..." Atticus broke it. "You’re really here to just talk. About what?"

"You." The air around them changed. The Saint stared straight at him, eyes unwavering. "To see if you’re friend or foe."

Atticus didn’t miss the threat in those words.

’She laid her cards down already.’

She had opened herself, letting her intentions known. The Saint wasn’t interested in gathering the fragment, so he could trust that she wouldn’t try to kill him. However, what about him? Who was Atticus? Can she trust him?

’She wants to form a relationship.’ The realization dawned on Atticus.

It was the first time she was meeting another marked, someone going through the same things as her. Even Atticus couldn’t deny the connection between them.

"I am a friend." Atticus declared, causing the Saint to squint her eyes.

"How brazen of you." she muttered, but there was the faintest smile on her lips, one she didn’t bother to hide.

"But I believe I have to be the one to decide that. Don’t you think so?"

Atticus shrugged, smiling. "I do. But it won’t change the answer."