Atticus felt his entire form twisting, and in the next instant, he was high up in the sky.
The wind whipped around him with intensity, blowing his hair and clothes backward as he fell at incredible speed.
The coldness in his eyes remained unchanged, his left hand gripping the hilt of his katana as he descended silently. When his feet finally touched the ground, the warped air around him settled.
Despite the height from which he had fallen, there wasn't a single ripple on the ground upon his landing.
Before doing anything else, Atticus conducted a brief inspection of himself.
'My space storage isn't working, but I can't feel any restrictions on myself. I can access all my elements, my mana isn't restricted. Everything is just as I remember.'
It was good news. Atticus had only ever experienced restrictions in competitions— like during the leader's summit, when everything had been reduced to the bare minimum. It was an experience he never wanted to endure again.
He came out of his thoughts and began scanning his surroundings.
He stood in a dense, fog filled forest. The trees loomed overhead, twisted and alive, their branches shifting and reaching as if they could sense him.
In the next second, the ground beneath his feet rumbled slightly, as though the entire planet was aware of his presence.
The challenge had begun.
Atticus glanced ahead, narrowing his eyes as he gauged the vast distance between him and the planet's center.
He could hear it all—the howling beasts in the distance, the earth shifting beneath him, the dangerous living forest inching closer.
The entire world was alive with threats designed to kill, to break anyone who dared approach the center.
But none of that mattered.
Atticus remained calm, his every step deliberate.
The audience watching from the human domain and across all of Eldoralth expected a show.
They wanted to see each apex fight their way through this hostile world, struggling against beasts, surviving treacherous terrain, and pushing forward with grit and perseverance.
They wanted desperation and danger—a slow, painful climb to the inevitable showdown that would shake the world.
But Atticus had other plans.
In every corner of the planet, the other apexes had the same thought burning in their minds:
Why wait?
The air around Atticus shifted, thickening as his presence expanded.
His normally cold blue eyes took on a crimson hue as his aura unfurled like a living storm, crackling with raw, untamed power.
The living trees that had been reaching for him suddenly froze, their twisted branches pausing in mid-air.
In the distance, the beasts charging relentlessly toward him stopped dead in their tracks, trembling under the weight of his presence.
Then, like a nuclear detonation, Atticus's aura exploded outward, reaching up into the sky.
The ground beneath him cracked and shattered, splintering from the sheer force of his power. He placed his hand on the hilt of his katana and entered a stance.
And he wasn't the only one.
From every corner of this new world, each apex unleashed their own terrifying power. Their auras—each distinct in color and intensity—burst into the sky like beacons of the apocalypse.
It was as though the planet itself held its breath, recognizing the monsters that now walked its surface.
The earth trembled.
Then, all at once, 16 streaks of pure, violent energy tore through the planet, each one hurtling toward the center with unstoppable force.
They moved so fast that the ground they crossed never stood a chance. The living trees were cut down, shredded into splinters before they could so much as twitch.
The beasts, once deadly threats, were reduced to lifeless husks, their bodies sliced to pieces, and their blood soaked the earth in seconds.
The dangerous terrain—the mountains, ravines, forests—what should have been an insurmountable challenge, was obliterated as though pierced by a hot knife.
There were no struggles, no gradual progress. The distance that should have taken hours of fighting and endurance was crossed in mere seconds, leaving the land scarred and devastated in the wake of the apexes' path.
Each apex left behind only destruction. And as they converged on the center from different directions, the world itself seemed to slow.
To the millions watching, it happened in an instant—one moment, the apexes were scattered across the planet, about to begin their journey, and the next, they were all at the center, their powers tearing apart everything in their path.
But to the apexes, time felt different. The world slowed as they each arrived at the center, the forces of nature around them bowing to their might.
Their gazes met, and in that moment, there was no need for words. They understood each other with a single look.
The ground splintered beneath their feet, the sheer force of their presence ripping the earth apart, causing the 16 flags to float upwards, drawn by the immense pressure.
The air crackled as their auras clashed. The tension was suffocating, their power swirling violently, threatening to tear the very fabric of reality apart.
Then it happened.
Their auras collided, a titanic clash of energy that reverberated across the planet. The impact was deafening, a shockwave of raw power that shook the ground and shattered the sky.
The flags, caught in the middle, trembled and flickered as the power surged around them, each one illuminated by the clash of power. Despite the immense energy, the flags remained intact.
The onlookers, who had been cheering at the top of their lungs just moments before, suddenly fell into stunned silence.
The energy of the clash was so immense, so overwhelming, that even those watching through the broadcast screens could feel it, despite how impossible it seemed.
The entire planet seemed to tremble under the weight of the apexes' combined power. The sky darkened, the ground quaked, and cracks began to spread across the surface of the planet.
And then, with a final, earth-shattering explosion, the planet could no longer withstand the power.
The crowd watching, both in the coliseum and across the domains, went completely silent. Their breaths caught in their throats as the screens zoomed out, offering a full, clear view of the planet.
For a moment, it seemed frozen in time—the calm before the storm.
Then, from the center of the planet, a blinding light began to shine, growing brighter and brighter with every passing second.
The ground beneath the apexes started to crumble, cracks spreading like veins of lightning across the planet's surface.
The light intensified until it was too bright to look at directly, radiating from the core as if the planet's very heart was about to give out.
Then, in a single violent motion, the planet imploded.
For a brief, heart-stopping moment, the light consumed everything—blinding, all-encompassing, and silent.
And then, nothing.