From the wave of information Ozeroth had given him, Atticus had discovered something incredible.
Spiritual energy.
It wasn't like mana. Atticus already knew this, but what he didn't know was just how different it truly was. Spiritual energy wasn't just another form of energy, it was a higher, more profound one compared to mana.
With mana, having great talent almost guaranteed progression in the ranks. But with spiritual energy, it was entirely different. Its talents were divided into two categories: raw potential and refined mastery.
For the former, it was akin to what Seraphina and most of the Starhaven family possessed. They could absorb spiritual energy and rank up, increasing their power.
But the latter was far more profound. This talent belonged to individuals who could delve deeper into the essence of spiritual energy itself.
Although it could augment the body, spiritual energy wasn't tied to it, it was connected to the soul, the deepest part of one's being.
It didn't just enhance power; it revealed truth. It unraveled the lies of the world, exposed weaknesses, and reshaped reality itself. But wielding it wasn't simple. It required more than strength or talent.
It demanded clarity.
Ozeroth had taught Atticus this truth. Every living being had a baseline of spiritual energy, but most people could only access a fraction of it unless they underwent significant personal growth or emotional breakthroughs.
The clearer the soul, the stronger the connection to spiritual energy. And once connected, it didn't follow the rules, it rewrote them.
Of course, this was an ability so advanced that not even the usual Atticus should have been able to achieve it. It required perfect peace and a connection with the spiritual energy in the air.
However, currently, Atticus was far from normal. He was in the zone.
And because of this, in the heat of this chaotic world, Atticus had achieved that connection. He had let go of distractions, focused his mind, and embraced the clarity Ozeroth demanded of him.
Now, his spiritual energy didn't just flow, it surged, consuming the lies of the labyrinth and bending its fabricated rules to his will.
Atticus appeared in front of Blackgate, his blade plummeting with intense momentum, causing the sky to split.
CRACK!
The blade connected.
A deafening silence swept over the battlefield as the veil of Blackgate's labyrinth shattered. Time seemed to freeze.
The paragons waiting outside, Magnus, Seraphina, Oberon, and the others, watched with their breaths caught in their throats.
Their gazes locked onto the scene unfolding before them, their hearts pounding hard against their chests as the impossible took shape.
Atticus's body brimmed with an overwhelming, otherworldly aura of spiritual energy. The blade in his hand radiated an intense, searing purple light, carving through the air like the scythe of death itself.
As a paragon, Blackgate could feel everything. The air tearing apart as Atticus's blade descended. The vibrations of space rippling under the force of spiritual energy. The suffocating pressure of power bearing down on him, making it feel as though the very laws of existence were fracturing.
His face contorted in horror, his silvery eyes trembling with fear. His body froze, his instincts screaming at him to move, but he couldn't.
Everything had happened so fast. In one instant, he was controlling his labyrinth, certain of Atticus's death. In the next, he was the one about to die.
Was this truly reality?
As that question echoed in Blackgate's head, his eyes met Atticus's.
Atticus's gaze was the embodiment of detachment. There wasn't a shred of emotion on his face. His movements were abrupt, deliberate, final. It didn't seem as though he was about to end the life of a human.
The katana descended.
Blackgate's body shuddered violently. A cascade of runes and defensive artifacts flickered to life around him, desperately attempting to shield him, but they crumbled instantly under the overwhelming force of Atticus's spiritual energy.
The blade sliced through Blackgate's head with terrifying ease, cutting cleanly through flesh, bone, and everything in its path. It split him from the crown of his head, through his left eye, his heart, and further down.
BOOM!
The ground quaked violently as spiritual energy exploded outward, carving a massive fissure into the earth.
Blackgate's body split apart, blood spraying in all directions like a crimson storm.
The paragons' eyes widened in utter shock. Even Magnus stood frozen, his expression one of disbelief.
"Did… he just…" Thorne murmured, unable to finish his sentence. He feared saying the words aloud would make him sound insane.
But every one of them finished the thought in their minds.
Did he just defeat a paragon? At 17 freaking years old?
They were stunned, their thoughts racing. Yet, despite the spectacle, Atticus's expression remained unchanged.
His blade, now dripping with blood, lowered slightly as his eyes locked onto Blackgate's remaining right eye. His sharp, piercing gaze didn't waver.
He knew.
He could feel it.
Something wasn't right.
Atticus's gaze narrowed, unyielding as he stared into Blackgate's remaining eye. For a moment, it felt as though he was staring directly into his soul.
'He's alive.'
The realization struck, and at that exact moment, Blackgate's eye widened in panic.
From his severed halves, a thick, black aura erupted, stitching his split body together with unnatural speed. The black energy coiled around him, sealing the wounds completely.
The sight sent a wave of disbelief rippling through the watching paragons.
He was still alive?
Blackgate gasped for air, his breathing ragged. His body was drenched in blood and sweat as he struggled to regain his composure.
But Atticus didn't hesitate.
The moment Blackgate's body began to mend, Atticus moved.
His katana flashed, cutting through the air like a whip of death.
"Shit!" Blackgate's eyes widened as he reacted. A gate snapped open behind him, swallowing him whole just as the blade sliced through where he had been standing.
Far in the distance, Blackgate reappeared, gasping and trembling. His entire body was battered, blood dripping from the corners of his mouth.
If anyone had claimed they would witness a paragon in such a state, they would have been called insane.
In Eldoralth, paragons rarely fought, and even more rarely died in battle. Their power was so overwhelming that their battles devastated entire regions. To see one disheveled, desperate, and terrified was unthinkable.
But the impossible was unfolding before their eyes.
As rare as it was to see a paragon in this state, it was just as rare to kill one. Paragons were like cockroaches, resilient and nearly impossible to eliminate. Their overwhelming power, combined with decades of experience, meant they had developed countless ways to escape death.
And Blackgate had just used one of those methods.