Atticus didn't have to be told. He knew exactly the kind of person he was.
He was cold, brutal, and at the same time loving. He could kill without hesitation and at the same time save lives.
There was no way one action or behavior could define a person. People were capable of changing depending on the situation.
But ever since Atticus had gotten reincarnated into this world, he hadn't had any major change in his main temperament or behavior. He had learned from a lot of situations, lessons that he had no plans of forgetting.
But learning was different from behavioral change. It just means that he wouldn't make the same stupid mistakes he made in the past.
However, Atticus's main temperaments remained unchanged. Who he was deep inside.
Atticus was a very vengeful person. He was the sort of person who would go to the ends of the world just to have his revenge. This behavior remained true.
Atticus was the sort of person who was true to his family. He was loving as he was caring.
But apart from these two, there was one more. This might not seem definite, but it was who he was deep inside; Atticus hated losing.
This particular behavior hadn't shown itself mainly because Atticus hadn't met anyone in his generation who could be even the least bit of a competitor. They were always so pathetically weak that it hadn't mattered.
This boy in front of him was definitely one of his generation. They had spent almost the same time alive in Eldoralth. Sure, he was of another race and had multiple advantages, but so what? Didn't he also have a ton of advantages?
He had busted his ass training and training until it was hard for him to walk. Many sleepless nights and broken bones. It didn't matter if the boy in front of him had gone through the same thing, Atticus didn't care.
There was only one thing he cared about, just why should he lose?
To Atticus, he never wanted to feel that terrible feeling, inadequacy, especially when it was for someone in his generation.
Many might call him a hypocrite. He had made many people from his generation feel inadequate and inferior, and yet, he didn't want to go through it.
It truly was hypocritical, but regardless, Atticus had always been human. Having a behavioral flaw was something none of us could escape.
Atticus didn't want to feel inadequate, which is why despite all his reservations, despite the risk and the promise to never use it, Atticus still chose to use it.
There were a million things that could go wrong, Atticus knew this fact well. However, at this point, none of that were currently entering his head.
There was only one thing in his head currently: he didn't want to lose.
The sound of Atticus's palm hitting the exposed mass on his chest echoed across the area like a hammer striking an anvil in a silent forge.
In the next second, a swarm of tiny pentagon-shaped black objects erupted from the middle of his chest, shifting and arranging themselves akin to the scales of a dragon.
In less than a second, his whole body was encompassed, a black suit clinging to his form like a second skin.
Atticus's transformation had been eerily silent, but its implications were profound.
Not a single instruction was needed. The suit siphoned mana from the air, replenishing his mana reserve and healing his body at a mind numbing speed without needing to be told.
Every single one of his wounds sealed up, his fatigue vanishing within the blink of an eye.
Atticus stood tall, his trembling limbs no longer visible. The air around him crackled with raw energy, a palpable tension building.
Every muscle in his body seemed to swell with newfound power, veins pulsing with vibrant life as pure mana coursed through him.
Atticus felt a surge of strength that was completely electric, his senses sharpening to a razor's edge.
Atticus's piercing blue eyes, which had turned completely crimson, faced upwards. His gaze, through the red shroud that engulfed his face, traversed more than 200 meters of an area filled with smoke, debris, and large craters and landed on the figure of Ae'ark.
To both of them, it was as though the devastation spread across the area didn't exist; they only saw each other.
The surprise among the humans watching the battle was palpable, especially for the crew members and the figures of Avalon and Sirius.
What the hell was Atticus wearing? This was the first time they had seen this sort of exosuit.
However, their surprise was instantly extinguished by their excitement. The fight wasn't over!
Ae'zard turned towards Magnus, his eyebrow raised in slight surprise. Of course, the other races knew about the human exosuits. It had been a pathetic attempt at bridging the gap between them and the other races.
But he would have to be an utter fool not to see that there was something special about what Atticus was currently using. Regardless, he focused on the fight. Atticus wasn't the only one with a powerful artifact.
The battlefield was silent, the tension in the air at its peak. Not a single word was spoken; it wasn't needed.
Atticus abruptly raised his katana, its blade erupting in a vivid crimson light akin to searing flames.
His aura surged, a mix of all his elements swirling around him in a harmonious dance.
With a single step, Atticus crossed the distance between them, his katana slashing down with the force of a thousand storms.
Ae'ark's gaze narrowed into pinpricks, his surprise palpable. 'Such speed!'
Summoning the last of his strength, he swiftly brought his spear up to meet the attack.
The clash was monumental, a titanic collision of power and wills.
Snake like cracks appeared on the ground beneath them before it imploded. The sky above them cracked, the very air vibrating with the intensity of their clash and the shockwave radiated outward, shaking the earth to its core.