By the time night fell, Atticus opened his eyes. His chest rose and fell as he let out a deep breath.
"I'm getting the hang of this," he muttered to himself.
The improvement was clear. While the techniques he had replicated today were less complex compared to what he had observed from other races, the progress was still significant.
Each signature had been locked into his memory, and his replication speed was steadily improving.
Still, it wasn't enough.
"I've got a long way to go," Atticus admitted.
"A long way?" Ozeroth's voice returned, laced with amusement. "I'd say an eternity. You've just figured out how to crawl, yet you dream of running a marathon."
Atticus smirked faintly. "I'll get there. Faster than you think."
"Optimism?" Ozeroth's chuckle was deep and mocking. "Don't worry, I'll be here to remind you when you trip and fall. Someone has to keep you grounded."
Atticus closed his eyes again. "Someone has to keep you entertained, old man."
Ozeroth's laughter echoed in his mind as the room grew silent once more. Despite his taunts, even Ozeroth couldn't deny how shocking Atticus's rate of improvement was.
After training through to the night, Atticus didn't sleep.
He stood, his gaze cold and distant.
"Mom will be here soon," he realized.
Anastasia always brought dinner at the same time every day, without fail. And when she arrived, there would be no escaping her care until late at night. But there was something Atticus needed to handle before she showed up.
He quickly left his room, heading toward the underground prison.
The air grew colder as he descended, the faint sound of rattling chains echoing through the chambers.
When Atticus appeared, both Alvis and Elysia froze, their bodies reacting before their minds could catch up.
Elysia shook violently, her voice trembling. "Please… not again. I'm sorry. I'm sorry."
Alvis trembled as well, his face pale. "What do you want? Haven't you done enough, you monster child?"
The torture from the day before was still fresh in their minds. Atticus wasn't just a torturer, he was a master of cruelty, someone they deeply regretted crossing.
Their cries were loud, desperate, but Atticus said nothing. He didn't need to.
Without a word, he moved.
The screams that followed tore through the prison, raw and relentless. They echoed down the halls, piercing the stone walls.
Elysia and Alvis begged, pleaded for mercy, but none came.
And then, silence.
Atticus emerged from the prison, calm and unbothered. Not a single drop of blood marred his form. His steps were steady as he made his way back to his room.
When he arrived, Anastasia was already there, standing at his door with a tray of food in her hands.
Her eyes met his, and Atticus immediately noticed the sadness in her gaze.
'Does she know?' he wondered.
Her expression was soft, but he could feel her intent without even trying. She was heartbroken.
The only reason Atticus could think of for her sadness was the sight of her son torturing others.
'The cameras,' he realized.
He had seen them before but hadn't cared. His focus had been solely on making Alvis and Elysia feel unimaginable pain. It hadn't mattered to him that someone might be watching, especially since he assumed it would only be a Ravenstein.
He smiled as he approached. "Hey, Mom."
Anastasia managed a weak smile. "Hey, baby," she muttered softly.
Atticus hugged her, and she held him tightly, her fingers clutching the fabric of his shirt as though she didn't want to let go.
After a moment, they pulled apart, and Anastasia followed him into his room.
Atticus tried to keep the conversation light, asking her about her day and making small talk. But the tension in the air was unmistakable. Her sadness was evident, and Atticus could feel her worry.
When he finished eating, Anastasia picked up the tray and left the room, her mind clearly elsewhere.
Atticus sighed heavily. "I wonder how she feels."
But he already knew the answer.
Anastasia still saw him as her little boy. The sight of him torturing others would disturb any parent, especially her. To her, he was growing up too fast, doing things no child should ever have to do.
But there's nothing I can do. This is who I am, Atticus thought, closing his eyes.
He meditated for a while before finally lying down to sleep.
The days passed.
Atticus's training routine was relentless and focused. He worked tirelessly on improving his spiritual eye and refining his proficiency with Omnicognition. Both abilities advanced significantly.
His physical training, however, was light, simple exercises to warm up his body.
Anastasia noticed this change and felt relieved. She didn't know the details of what he was working on, but she was just happy to see him pacing himself for once instead of pushing himself to his limits. For her, it was a small victory, a sense of balance she hadn't seen in him before.
After that day, Anastasia no longer showed sadness when she brought him dinner, even though Atticus continued torturing Alvis and Elysia daily. It was as if she had accepted that her son had a cruel side. At least, that's what Atticus hoped.
One evening, both Avalon and Anastasia came to his room.
Anastasia looked hesitant, while Avalon seemed more relaxed.
"We need to tell you something," Avalon began, crossing his arms. "The delegates from the other races are still here, and they've been pushing to meet you."
Atticus frowned. He didn't like where this was going.
Avalon reached out and ruffled his hair. "You don't have to meet them, son. But it might be easier to just shake a few hands, smile, and let them leave."
Anastasia nodded and added softly, "It'll be quick, I promise. If it's too much, we can cancel it."
Atticus shook his head. "No, it's fine. I'll do it."
"Sorry, son," Avalon said with a shrug. "It won't take long."
"Thank you," Anastasia added, her voice warm but apologetic. "I know this isn't easy for you."
After they left, Atticus sat down with a heavy sigh.
The delegates from the other races had been pressuring humanity's leaders to arrange a meeting with him. Magnus had refused initially, because of Atticus's condition. But now that Atticus was awake and well, the leaders felt they couldn't risk angering the other races.
Atticus understood the situation, but it didn't make him any less irritated.
What truly annoyed him, though, wasn't the meeting itself. It was the fact that he would have to interrupt his training for something so trivial.
Time was precious, and this felt like a waste.
'Looks like I have no choice,' he thought, his gaze cold and unwavering.