The torture continued, unrelenting. The cries of Alvis and Elysia echoed throughout the underground prison, their agony reverberating off the cold stone walls.
Even the other prisoners, locked away in separate cells, shuddered with fear. They could almost feel the pain being inflicted on the two.
The cycle repeated endlessly: pain, healing, and then pain again.
Time passed, but for the prisoners, it felt like an eternity. The screams of Alvis and Elysia eventually blended into a haunting symphony of suffering that filled the prison.
The other prisoners trembled, each silently praying they would never endure the same fate.
When it finally ended, hours had passed, and night had fallen.
Atticus walked out of the prison. His steps were slow and steady, his expression calm, almost serene. Not a drop of blood stained his clothes. It was as though he hadn't just spent hours unleashing unspeakable torture.
In his mind, Ozeroth's voice echoed.
"From a momma's boy to a cold-blooded torturer. You're one weird human."
"You've done worse," Atticus replied, recalling the countless scenes of torture he'd seen in Ozeroth's memories. The spirit had been exceptionally cruel in its time.
Ozeroth laughed loudly. "Ah, you've seen those? Well… those fools were stupid enough to challenge me without knowing their place. A lesson needed to be taught, no? We can't have them remain foolish forever, can we?"
Atticus shook his head, muttering under his breath, "They deserved it."
Ozeroth chuckled, a low, rumbling sound.
"Deserve has nothing to do with it. You do it because you can. Because no one can stop you. Because, deep down, you enjoy it, even if you won't admit it."
Atticus didn't respond.
The prison door slammed shut behind him as he ascended the steps. When he finally reached the surface, the air was eerily still.
He stood there for a moment, staring into the quiet darkness. Then he exhaled, slow and steady, before starting his walk back to the mansion.
Inside the mansion, the hallways were silent as Atticus moved toward his room. Near the door, he spotted Anastasia approaching with a tray of food.
"Should you be moving around already?" she asked, her voice filled with concern.
Atticus smiled faintly, though inwardly he rolled his eyes. She always worried too much. Even if he rested for a century, it wouldn't be enough for her.
"I just took a walk," he said, stepping forward to give her a brief hug.
Ozeroth's scoff echoed in his mind, but Atticus ignored it.
Letting go of Anastasia, he followed her into the room and sat down to eat. He ate quietly, savoring the meal as it replenished his strength after the long day. Anastasia didn't interrupt, simply watching him with a warm smile. She hoped he would stay home for a long time.
When he finished, Anastasia left, leaving him alone. He sat cross-legged on his bed and closed his eyes.
His breathing slowed as he entered a hyper-focused state.
Atticus focused on his newly awakened spiritual sense. Though he had tested it earlier and discovered some interesting abilities, he still needed to grow accustomed to it. As it stood, using it effectively in battle was far from possible.
He spent some time refining his control and exploring its capabilities before finally drifting off to sleep.
The night passed quickly.
Morning came.
Atticus woke early, his routine unchanged. He freshened up, trained, meditated in his room for a while, and prepared for the day.
But today, something felt different.
Atticus left the mansion, his steps taking him to a part of the estate he hadn't visited since he was a child.
The training grounds.
As he reached the area, he stopped for a moment, taking in the sight.
'It's just like I remembered,' he thought, a wave of nostalgia washing over him.
A faint smile crossed his face as memories of training with Sirius at the age of five surfaced in his mind. Those sessions had been grueling and exhilarating, shaping him into who he was today.
It had been the beginning of everything.
Atticus's gaze swept across the training grounds, now alive with movement. Dozens of young Ravensteins were already up and training, their energy fierce and determination palpable as they clashed in sparring matches.
As Atticus approached, the atmosphere shifted.
One by one, the trainees stopped what they were doing, their gazes locking onto him. Even the adults present, trainers and mentors, froze.
Every single one of them had the same thought: What is he doing here?
Atticus said nothing as he walked to one side of the field. With a slight motion, he conjured an earth-made chair and took a seat.
His glowing purple eyes scanned the field, calm and calculating.
The group stiffened under his gaze. The younger ones trembled, their knees weak from the overwhelming presence of the apex.
The people on the training grounds were mostly young Ravensteins who had recently completed their military training. Some adult Ravensteins, trainers, and mentors had joined to help guide them. All of them were below the grandmaster rank.
Atticus's presence was overwhelming, almost suffocating. Some of the younger ones felt their knees buckle, as though compelled to kneel.
But as they realized Atticus was merely observing them, they snapped out of their daze. Collectively, they bowed in unison.
"We greet the Apex, Atticus!"
Even the adults joined in.
Atticus's position in the Ravenstein family, and within humanity itself. was unmatched. His power, accomplishments, and status as humanity's apex had elevated him to near-mythical status.
Even the elders of the Ravenstein family treated him with respect. To these youths, he was practically godlike.
Atticus gave a slight nod, acknowledging their greeting.
"Carry on," he said calmly.
To them, it wasn't a suggestion, it was an order.
The trainees and mentors immediately returned to their activities. But the atmosphere had changed.
The energy in the training grounds exploded. Every movement, every technique became sharper, faster, stronger. They pushed themselves harder, each one desperate to stand out.
Maybe he's here to observe. Maybe he's looking for subordinates.
The thought echoed in their minds, driving them to give everything they had.
But Atticus wasn't paying attention to their efforts to impress him.
His focus was elsewhere.
His eyes flickered, sharp and calculating, taking in every movement. He studied their techniques, forms, and mana flows. The spiritual energy around him thickened as he absorbed everything.
He memorized it all.
Every technique.
Every signature.
The air grew heavier around him as his understanding deepened.
This was the real reason he had come to the training grounds. He wanted to make full use of Ozeroth's Omnicognition, sharpening his skills and increasing his proficiency.
The youths pushed themselves harder, unaware that Atticus wasn't there to praise or recruit them.
He was there to learn, to analyze, and to train.
And he missed nothing.