After killing that scout, Atticus encountered another strange scene.
He was sneaking through the village when he heard a voice coming from a small outhouse near a cluster of small buildings.
Given the current age and technology, it was an odd sight no matter how Atticus looked at it. However, considering their current circumstances, he found it somewhat understandable.
Atticus paused and approached, listening to the muffled conversation.
It took him a moment to realize that there was only one voice—this scout was talking to himself while taking care of business.
"Man, it's been a rough day," the scout groaned from inside the outhouse. "First, those idiots on the wall get all the fun, and what do I get? Latrine duty. Again. Like I'm the only one who knows how to protect a toilet!"
There was a sound of grumbling and shifting.
"And what's with that smell? I'm in here every day, and I still can't get used to it. Honestly, sometimes I think the real enemy is in here with me. Maybe I should just quit the Order and open a shop. How hard could it be to sell something like, I don't know, perfumes? Anything to get away from this stink!"
Atticus shook his head, completely baffled. He hated the Obsidian Order to the core, but he couldn't help but find its members to be extremely strange people with even stranger dreams. First, it was opening a farm, and now perfumes?
The scout's lamentations were almost enough to make him pity the man. Almost.
The door to the outhouse suddenly slid open slightly, and the scout peeked out, still grumbling. "I swear, if one more person tells me to—"
His words were cut short as Atticus appeared in front of him, a pitch-black blade in hand. The scout's eyes went wide, but before he could scream, his head fell from his body, quickly and quietly, leaving the body slumped against the building's door.
Atticus quickly acted, burying the man deep in the earth before continuing his movements.
However, it didn't take long for him to encounter another strange scene, one that almost made Atticus lose his composure.
As he moved deeper into the village, he came across a lone scout sitting by a fire, staring into the flames with a look of deep contemplation.
The man was mumbling to himself, his expression one of profound existential dread, as though he saw no point to life.
"What's the point of it all?" the scout muttered, poking the fire with a stick. "I joined the Obsidian Order for glory, for power… but all I do is stand around guarding this stupid village. And for what? So some grandmaster can play at being a god in his little pocket world?"
The scout sighed deeply, dropping the stick into the fire.
"Maybe I should just leave. Start a farm somewhere, grow some crops, live a simple life… But then what if there's more to life than that? What if I'm meant for something greater? Or maybe… maybe I'm just a pawn in someone else's game."
'What the hell is going on with these people,' Atticus thought, noticing a pattern. If he had to guess, he would say they were all tired of their inactivity for more than five years.
This man was clearly struggling with his purpose and was caught in a spiral of self-doubt and confusion.
However, he had already made the worst mistake of his life—ending up as Atticus' enemy.
Atticus stepped out of the shadows, and the scout turned to face him, eyes widening in surprise. "Who—who are you?"
Atticus didn't answer. Instead, he made a swift, fluid motion, and the scout's existential crisis was brought to an abrupt end. The man fell backward, his body slumping into the dirt, leaving the fire to crackle on without him.
Atticus followed the same routine, burying the scout's body before continuing his mission.
After that incident, he encountered several more strange scenes. One involved a scout having 'fun' with a random woman in an alleyway.
Many might disapprove of what Atticus did next, calling it too cruel. But Atticus had always been ruthless. He had meant every word when he claimed he would eradicate the Obsidian Order. It wasn't just empty bravado; it was the simple truth.
Atticus didn't just kill the scout; he killed the woman too. Although she was weak, barely at the Novice+ rank, her affiliation with his enemy was reason enough for him. He didn't need to consider anything else.
Afterward, he came across a scene that, if he were honest, he was surprised he hadn't encountered sooner, given everything that had happened.
He stumbled upon a scout staggering in the middle of an alleyway, a bottle in hand, singing off-key to the night sky.
"The great Obsidian Order… hic… undefeated… un-bloody-defeated!" the man warbled, swaying on his feet. He took a swig from his bottle, only to miss his mouth entirely, spilling half the contents down his front. "Who needs enemies when you've got friends like booze, eh?"
Atticus didn't waste a second before severing the man's head and burying him. He then moved swiftly through the village, killing every scout he encountered, whether they were acting strangely or not.
But at some point, Atticus's targets expanded beyond just the scouts. After killing that woman, he had already made an inward decision: he was going to kill every single living being in this space.
And so, he began targeting everyone he saw outside.
The moon hung low, casting a silver glow over the village as Atticus moved like a devil, reaping the lives of many.
Soon enough, after traversing the village multiple times, there was no one left outside.
Atticus stopped and stood atop a high building, overlooking a large structure below.
'The scouts should all be dead. It's time to move to the next target: the hunters. I have to be quick before anyone comes out and notices how deserted the streets are.'
Atticus had killed and buried everyone outside. Anyone with even a modicum of intelligence would realize something was wrong if they saw how empty the village had become. This urgency drove Atticus to move swiftly.
The darkness engulfed him as he descended.