Atticus's Odyssey: Reincarnated Into A Playground

Chapter 898  Grumble

'What the hell…' the spirit thought, utterly stunned.

No, shock couldn't even begin to describe the overwhelming emotions coursing through him.

He had been dead for centuries, trapped inside the life weapon. Back in his time, despite all his confidence and belief that he would be different from the other wielders, it had been the fourth trial that ultimately killed him.

Over those long years, he had watched countless wielders attempt the fourth trial. Never once had he volunteered to guide anyone. Why? Because he truly believed no one could pass the fourth trial when even he had failed.

But that changed when Cedric began speaking about Atticus.

Every spirit within the katana had been intrigued, curious to see this boy for themselves. He had been no different.

The challenge Atticus had just completed was the same one every wielder faced as the first stage of the fourth trial. And never in history had anyone passed it on the first night.

It wasn't just about figuring out the technique. It was about doing so in such a disadvantaged situation, and then instantly learning and applying it to combat in mere moments.

For the spirit, reaching the level Atticus had just demonstrated had taken countless nights during his own trial. Many more nights had passed before he finally annihilated the invisible beasts entirely.

Atticus had achieved all this in a single night.

And he had done it within moments of starting the fourth trial.

The spirit's astonishment deepened as his eyes focused on Atticus.

'There might be a chance he passes the fourth trial.'

No one had ever done it before. But now, for the first time, the spirit felt certain: If anyone can do it, it will be this boy.

Atticus exhaled heavily, his cold gaze sweeping across the now-quiet desert.

Blood drenched the sand, pooling around him.

'The mist is gone,' Atticus noted silently.

The desert was clear. No more mist. No sign of the beasts.

"I must have passed the challenge," he muttered under his breath.

The spirit snapped out of his thoughts, clearing his throat as he floated in front of Atticus.

"That's right," the spirit confirmed, meeting Atticus's gaze directly.

Atticus wasted no time. "Was this the first part of the fourth art?" he asked.

In his training for the other katana arts, he had always learned them step by step. The first step was always about understanding how to move his mana.

The spirit nodded. "That's correct. You've just learned the first part of the fourth art."

Atticus's expression didn't change. He took a deep breath, calming his mind. First things first.

"Is the mist coming back tonight?" he asked.

The spirit shook his head.

Atticus pressed further. "What about the beasts?"

"They won't be coming back. You don't have to worry. If the katana wasn't satisfied with the level you reached with the technique, the mist wouldn't have dispersed in the first place."

Hearing that, Atticus sighed in relief and lowered himself onto the blood-soaked sand, sitting down.

Without his elements, Atticus couldn't stop the blood from splattering onto him. At this point, his body and clothes were drenched in it.

'I'm tired.'

His breathing slowed as he stared up at the silver moon. The night was cold, and the soothing breeze brushed against his skin.

'It's perfect for sleeping…'

Atticus shook his head abruptly, clearing the thought. He slapped himself lightly on the cheek, forcing his focus to return.

'You can't relax, not until after the trial,' he reminded himself.

The battle had been more draining than Atticus could have anticipated. His mana reserves were utterly depleted, and his body was thoroughly fatigued. The final moments of the fight had been the most taxing, pushing himself to the limit had caused the mist to siphon away even more of his energy.

After taking a few minutes to catch his breath, Atticus turned to his guide, who stood quietly, watching him.

"How many parts are there?" Atticus asked, his voice low. Since he had started learning the fourth art, he could now ask general questions about it.

"Three in total," the spirit replied.

"Do I have to go through challenges like this to learn them?"

"Yes," the spirit nodded.

'Two more challenges,' Atticus thought, his expression steady.

"What are they?"

"I can't tell you that yet," the spirit said.

'As expected.' Atticus's expression remained unchanged. He hadn't started the second and third challenges yet, so it made sense that he couldn't receive answers about them. He had only been trying his luck.

After that, Atticus asked no more questions. Instead, he closed his eyes and meditated, focusing on recovering his lost strength and mana.

Without his elements or exo-suit, his recovery was slower than usual, but it was still significant.

Even as he meditated, Atticus never let his guard down. He slowed his breathing and ensured he remained completely silent, maintaining vigilance.

Fortunately, the spirit had been right. The mist and invisible wolves didn't return, leaving Atticus undisturbed throughout the night to recover.

Morning arrived in a blip, and Atticus felt thoroughly refreshed. The silent night and his meditation had worked wonders. His fatigue was gone, and his mana had fully recovered.

However, as he stood up, stretched, and began walking, another problem arose, one Atticus had rarely experienced in his life.

Grumble.

Atticus raised an eyebrow at the sound of his stomach growling.

"I'm hungry?" he muttered, baffled.

Just as he was about to ponder the development, something hit him, a wave of intense heat, slamming into him like a suffocating blanket.

Atticus's gaze shot toward the sky, his eyes narrowing at the flaming orange sun burning brightly above.

Its golden rays were scorching, bathing the landscape like a furnace set to its highest temperature.

The heat was unbearable, so intense that sweat instantly drenched Atticus's body, only to evaporate a moment later, wisps of smoke rising from his form.

'What the hell…'

The next second, it hit him again, this time, an intense thirst. n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om

A thirst so severe that it felt as if even an entire ocean wouldn't be enough to quench it.

Atticus's expression darkened.

It seemed the trial had only just begun.