Atticus's gaze narrowed, his guard raised to full throttle.
The figure standing in front of him had a black suit covering his whole body with a red shroud over his face, exactly like his exosuit.
But there was no way Atticus would mistake his own physique. It was his identical copy.
'Is it the suit's will again?'
Atticus was instantly reminded of his first battle with his exosuit in his mindscape. But this time around, there was only nothingness all around him.
'Where's my will?' Atticus pondered hard. The last time he faced it, he had the full might of his will, but now there was nothing.
Even worse, Atticus didn't feel as though he was in top condition at all. He felt weak both mentally and physically; he was drained.
Atticus's eyes were fixed straight at the figure, his back slightly bent, ready to battle despite his fatigue.
A second passed and Atticus blinked, an action that took less than half a second. However, a gleaming katana blade appeared inches away from his forehead as his eyes opened.
'Shit,'
Atticus couldn't move nor react in time. Just as he was about to be sliced into two, a blinding white light ignited as tendrils of white lightning descended from above, appearing between the blade and Atticus, stopping its descent.
The lightning wrapped around the figure, an intense screech rocking the space as it started getting electrocuted. Its form trembled and shook, its black suit and body crumbling until it turned into a formless round small mass on the floor.
Atticus focused his gaze on the orb of lightning floating in front of him, "Grandfather?" he muttered.
However, he received no answer to his question. 'It has to be him; only he could probably achieve something like this,' Atticus pondered.
There was no other explanation he thought was possible. He knew for a fact that he hadn't been responsible for what just happened, so it could only be Magnus.
The orb of lightning multiplied in numbers, each one swirling around with Atticus in the middle.
'Are they trying to protect me?'
Seeing as he wouldn't get his answer, Atticus decided to use this opportunity to regain his strength.
Sitting down cross-legged, Atticus entered a deep state of meditation, breathing in and out calmly and constantly.
Atticus affirmed himself, remembering why he was here, why he was doing everything he was doing, why he was working so hard. Atticus affirmed himself.
Some time passed, but Atticus was unaware of how long. Slowly, little by little, the space started regaining some color, a vivid crimson sky reflecting down on him.
Atticus continued this until his will was completely recovered, the space completely engulfed by an intense crimson.
His gaze snapped open, noticing that the orbs of lightning were nowhere to be found. Atticus paid them no heed, turning towards the consciousness of the exosuit lying on the ground. Atticus instantly entered a deep state of thought, his hand slightly clenched.
'It's far more dangerous than I thought,'
Back during the leaders' summit, Atticus had used up all his will when he was escaping. Then, the consciousness of the exosuit had acted on him.
Atticus hadn't thought much of it back then, but now it seemed that anytime he was using the suit, his will finishing was nothing short of a death warrant.
What if Magnus hadn't been here? Wouldn't his consciousness be in split pieces by now? It was way too close.
'You're smarter than this, man. Why did you use it?'
Atticus scolded himself inwardly. It really didn't feel like him to give in to his emotions in such a way. He had forgotten everything, every consequence, and only wanted to win.
He had escaped this time around, but he might not be so lucky the next time.
Atticus willed himself out of his mindscape after reflecting for a while.
In the next second, Atticus's gaze flickered open and found himself looking at a familiar ceiling.
'My room on the airship?'
As Atticus attempted to stand up, he felt unimaginable pain that made him flinch. But he fought it and sat up straight.
Raising his arms, Atticus saw that his whole body was enveloped in tendrils of lightning, but he couldn't feel them causing any harm.
Turning his gaze left, he saw nothing. Then right, his eyes met the intense gray eyes of a very familiar old man.
Atticus's gaze widened, and he immediately tried to stand but saw that he couldn't move an inch.
"Save the formalities, you're still injured," Magnus suddenly spoke, and Atticus could feel whatever was restricting his movement loosening up.
Atticus was a little reluctant at first but eventually listened, resting his back on the wall. Although he was a bit free with the man, it didn't mean he shouldn't show the least bit of respect.
"How are you feeling?"
Atticus took a moment to respond, as though trying to catch his breath. "Terrible. Did I lose?" He turned and met Magnus's gaze, who responded after a few seconds,
"Yes."
Atticus immediately went silent. 'So I lost, huh,' he thought, his hands underneath his blanket unknowingly clenched hard, his eyes becoming dim.
Atticus knew deep down that that battle had been close. It was something he should be proud of as a warrior, but he just couldn't bring himself to feel that way. Only one feeling engulfed his whole body: inadequacy.
It felt bad, really bad, that Atticus struggled to maintain his composure, a sad expression appearing on his face. It was his first loss, one that he was finding it hard to grapple with.
"But your opponent didn't win either."
Atticus's lowered head shot up, his eyes widened and fixed on Magnus, silently demanding answers.
Magnus wasted no time. "If the both of you had been allowed to clash, you would have lost consciousness, and your opponent his boost in power. Both of you would have ultimately died due to the force of the clash."
Atticus sucked in a cold breath. To think he had been so close to dying. 'Wait, doesn't that mean…'
Magnus confirmed his thoughts, "For now, there are no winners."
Despite Magnus's revelation, Atticus didn't smile. He didn't feel even a hint of happiness. At this point, the result didn't matter. If Magnus hadn't intervened, he would have still lost— he'd be dead.
The winner would have been decided by who died first and last.
However, Magnus didn't try to comfort him. He didn't even talk about the matter at all. His gaze was fixed firmly on Atticus as he asked,
"How was the battle?"
Atticus hesitated but eventually responded, "It was …fine."
"Be more specific," Magnus said firmly.
Atticus turned his gaze down and looked at his clenched hands, trying to remember the sensation he felt during the battle.
"I- I don't know how to describe it. It felt thrilling? It felt good. I felt like I knew what I had to do before I did it, and this wasn't just about my perception and predictions. This felt… natural."
"Good, good," a wide smile appeared on Magnus's face, "You've experienced the thrill of battle, we will expand more on that later. Now we can move on to the next step of your training."
Atticus's gaze couldn't help but twitch as he heard Magnus speak. He was lying injured and in pain on the bed! Not only that, he felt incredibly bad that he hadn't won the fight, and yet the man hadn't even broached the topic, as though it didn't matter.
Atticus sighed inwardly. 'It's not like I'm used to being babied in the first place,' he thought.
He turned to look at Magnus, listening to what he was saying.
"Your next training will be done in seclusion. Since you've already experienced the thrill of battle, now you must focus on a very important aspect of your power: your elements."
"I've seen the way you use them, especially their movements, and I must commend you for getting this far without any outside help. You've escaped the foolish notion that only one movement defines the elements, but that is far from reaching their true potential.
"Now it's time for the next step. During this step, you will train each element one by one until you can utilize them appropriately."
Magnus started walking towards the door of the room.
"I will leave you to rest for now. Recover your strength. When we reach our next destination, I shall send for you."
"Yes, Grandfather."
Magnus suddenly paused as he reached the door, his figure still facing the direction of the door.
"Atticus," he suddenly called out, "Recovering and coming back stronger from losses is what makes a great warrior. During my days, in order for me to reach my current level, I lost count of the number of battles I lost. But I stand here before you a paragon because of one thing: I never gave up. You might not have won today, but you will live to fight another day.
"Let this event fuel you. Don't waste even a second brooding. Never give up and keep on going, always."
Atticus didn't say anything, he couldn't. A smile had long since appeared on his face as he stared at Magnus's back, a certain warmth enveloping him.
"One last thing," Magnus suddenly turned and met Atticus's gaze as he continued, "You did good today."
In the next second, and before Atticus could comprehend his words, Magnus abruptly disappeared, leaving Atticus stupefied.
"Why did he walk to the door if he wasn't going to use it," Atticus muttered under his breath.