Atticus's Odyssey: Reincarnated Into A Playground

Chapter 1573  Gloomy

The weight of the situation settled heavily in Anorah's chest. With the Will Guard involved, it was only a matter of time before they reached Atticus.

The light surrounding the abyss god's blade suddenly swelled, expanding violently before crashing down toward her. Anorah tightened her grip and surged forward, meeting the strike with a thrust driven by everything she could muster.

The collision erupted into blinding light, swallowing her vision as violent vibrations ripped through her arms, then her body and will, lifting her from the ground.

A crushing wave struck her a second later, hurling her back first through the terrain. Her thoughts spiraled as her body skipped violently across the earth before finally coming to a halt just short of the cliff's edge.

Pain flared from every part of her body, but Anorah bit down hard, forcing herself to rise despite the blood filling her mouth.

'I… I have to hold on until he wakes up.'

Her limbs trembling, she pulled herself from the deep trench and stood at the cliff's edge, warm blood trailing down her head and dripping onto the ground below.

The abyss god already hovered ahead of her, his back turned as he silently watched the battlefield beneath them. Anorah followed his gaze.

Carnage. The clangorous crash of weapons was drowned out by desperate screams as countless bodies were torn apart, eviscerated, their remains adding to the billions already strewn across the horizon.

A heavy ache tightened in Anorah's chest as she forced back the tears threatening to fall. On Asterra, people spoke of the honor of battle, of valiant warriors standing against invading foes, but no one spoke of the screams of men and women fighting desperately to survive, of the endless, murky blood, or the horror of watching comrades split apart before your eyes.

Anorah gripped her blade so tightly her arm went numb, hatred coiling deep in her chest as she took in the scene before her. She despised every second of this with everything she had.

"Beautiful, isn't it," the abyss god said calmly. "It always fills my heart with such pleasure when I witness sights like this. Truly, this is what makes life worth living."

There was an unsettling serenity in his voice, as though the carnage unfolding below was nothing more than a breathtaking spectacle meant solely for his enjoyment.

The expression didn't last. A slight frown crept onto his face as his gaze sharpened.

"Hmm… but something is wrong. How are we still being pushed back?"

Anorah followed his line of sight to the frontline, where streaks of gold and blue tore through the abyss army, cutting down soldiers at an insane pace.

"It's those two, huh."

'They're holding them back.'

A sharp surge of exhilaration ran through her. Hundreds of billions of armored soldiers were being stalled, no, forced back, by just two figures. Ozeroth. Whisker.

Ozeroth moved as though the battlefield belonged to him, twin hammers dancing effortlessly in his grasp as he shattered abyss ranks without pause, while Whisker had turned into a savage, feral form, ripping through the army with brutal ease.

Together, they halted the abyss advance, giving the Eldorians and their battalion the opening they needed to keep their lines from collapsing.

'They're doing their part…' Now it was up to her to do the same.

The abyss god abruptly turned toward her as pressure surged outward, his eyes narrowing.

Solvath's power churned fiercely around Anorah, knitting her fractured will back together as she raised her blade, fixing her unyielding gaze onto him.

Even if it killed her, she would hold him here.

'Until he wakes up…'

The abyss god's grin widened, and in the next instant they vanished, their collision detonating into a blinding light that swallowed the skies.

…

The room was quiet and dim, his body begging silently for even the smallest measure of rest, yet Magnus' sunken eyes remained fixed on the arm dangling limply over the side of the bed.

Without thinking, he stepped forward, approaching the bed where his grandson lay unmoving. Being this close always sent a stabbing ache through his chest, but he ignored it, this had to be done.

He gently lifted the arm and placed it back atop the bed, tucking it carefully beneath the blanket, only to frown when his eyes caught the damp streak soaking into the bedsheet below him.

Magnus curled his fist. The sweating was becoming more frequent.

Was something happening inside him?

Uncurling his arms, Magnus lifted Atticus with his will and, with practiced ease, stripped away the damp sheets before replacing them with fresh ones. He reached for a clean towel from the table nearby, dabbed it with water, then carefully removed Atticus' clothes and began to clean him. Gentle but methodical, he wiped him from head to toe until not a single bead of sweat remained. Only then did he dress him again and lower him carefully back onto the bed.

He lingered there longer than felt necessary, watching in silence as fresh beads of sweat slowly formed across Atticus' skin.

Magnus ground his teeth. He had tried everything to make his grandson even slightly more comfortable, keeping his posture perfectly aligned, bathing and changing him daily, lowering the room's temperature until every breath misted in the air, yet the sweating never stopped even as Atticus' body remained cold to the touch.

This was a situation he had never hoped to face again, one where he could do nothing but stand by and watch someone he loved suffer through something he couldn't understand, unable to help in any way. It felt too familiar. It was Freya all over again.

As the sweat gathered once more, Magnus repeated the process, changing the sheets and clothes before stepping back to watch him in silence yet again.

 It wasn't until a faint movement beneath the blanket caught his attention that he finally tore his gaze away and focused on it.

Moments later, a small white furred creature slowly emerged, clearly stirred awake by the constant movement. Noctis looked up at him with tired, sorrowful eyes, both ears drooping low, before turning away without a sound. His steps were soft as he padded over to Atticus' head, then gently licked his face a few times, as though tending to a wound in the hope it might heal faster.

"Kuu~"

He purred softly, pressing his head against Atticus' cheek and brushing against him again and again, waiting for any sign of response.

But Atticus remained still, unmoving.