Both their figures blurred, reappearing mid-air with fists and legs colliding at blinding speeds.
Each strike sent ripples through the atmosphere, the air screaming under the pressure of their blows.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
Their auras clashed, sparks of azure and purple igniting like fireworks, painting the sky in violent hues.
They fought without pause, without breath, their bodies moving faster than thought, faster than sound. The ground quaked, and the skies roared with their fury as they pushed each other beyond their limits.
Minutes blurred into hours. Explosions detonated with every clash, shockwaves rippling out like tidal waves, and the runes of the training room began to lose their luster, teetering on the edge of shattering.
However, soon…
BAM! BAM!
Atticus and Ozeroth collapsed on the floor, both their breathing ragged. Their chests rose and fell as they struggled to catch their breath.
"What got into you?" Atticus said between heavy breaths.
Ozeroth took some deep breaths before responding.
"You needed to be taught a lesson, bond. Next time, you'll remember this beating and know to treat Ozeroth with respect."
"Ah…" Atticus laughed, making his recovery more difficult. But at this point, he didn't care. The spirit was being absurd.
"You didn't even win…"
"Because I wasn't serious!"
"I wasn't serious too."
They had both used only their fists, without any weapons or arts.
Only their passive strength had been enough to almost turn a training room, designed by Oberon and Garvin themselves, into rubble.
"Tch," Ozeroth clicked his tongue, turning away from Atticus.
Atticus laughed for a few moments before stopping and focusing on his recovery. The room fell into silence, the only sound being the heavy breaths of the duo.
"How do you feel now?"
Ozeroth broke the silence, asking.
Atticus' face broke into a smile. He chuckled.
"Better."
The battle they had just fought had warmed him up, and the terrible feeling he felt because of the situation with the other races had disappeared. He felt good.
"Thanks," Atticus murmured, but from the slight flinch of Ozeroth, it was very clear he'd heard.
Ozeroth suddenly stood up, placing his hand over his mouth as he cleared his throat.
"Ah, I should head inside. Your performance during that little scuffle was so weak that it drained me."
Atticus caught sight of a wide grin tugging at the corner of the spirit's mouth, and the sudden flush creeping up Ozeroth's glowing purple face, turning him red as a tomato before he shrank and streamed into his chest.
Atticus smirked.
"Prideful man," he muttered fondly, before turning towards the crimson skies, his thoughts turning serious.
Now that he had regained his grip on his mind, it was time to focus on the future.
'Now, training.'
The Vampyros were up to something. The Dimensari were up to something. And Atticus couldn't rule out all the other races.
Everyone was up to something. And he was at the center of it all.
'The military,' Atticus' gaze glinted with coldness.
Somehow, he knew everything was going to unfold at the war zone.
'The Zorvans.'
He had heard stories about the alien race, but after speaking with Elderish and learning about the history of Eldoralth, Atticus' mind had been expanded.
The Zorvans were not the only ones out there. They were just one of many other worlds in their plane. Winning the war with the Zorvans wouldn't be enough; he had to get rid of the roots.
'They're not the only ones.'
It was unfortunate, but the outside forces weren't the only ones he had to worry about.
His main and current enemies were closer, in Eldoralth. The Vampyros and Dimensari. The mysterious figure controlling them. The other races of Eldoralth. The other Apexes.
His enemies were bountiful.
'The Ravenstein family can't help me there, I'll be all alone.'
And when he went to the military, Atticus was going under the impression that he was completely alone.
'Don't forget me, brat,' Ozeroth rumbled in his head.
Atticus smiled.
'Right. Sorry, sorry. Together.'
The spirit remained silent, but it was clear that Atticus had pulled a nerve.
Atticus released a huge exhale before shooting up, clearing his dust-filled body.
"I have to be ready," he said out loud, making his way to the training room terminal.
There was only one solution to all of this: overwhelming strength.
'I have to achieve it, and fast.'
Atticus changed the settings of the training room, selecting an environment where his fire element would thrive.
'First, my elements.'
Only a few months were left until he had to leave for the military, and Atticus had every intention of being ready.
The temperature of the room skyrocketed to unprecedented heights, causing even Atticus to break a sweat.
He walked to the middle and sat down, and without a word, he closed his eyes and focused.
Atticus was currently at level four in basically all of his elements. This meant that he had formed a connection so strong between himself and the molecules that he had gained absolute control over them in a given radius.
However, to level them up, Atticus had to go beyond this. He had to become it.
Unlike other elementalists, Atticus had far too many elements. This, unfortunately, meant he would have to become all of them.
'I'm not entirely sure how it'll work, but it should be possible.'
He had to reach the highest synchronicity with each of the elements. This was what Atticus focused on.
As time passed, he switched between the elements, choosing to level them up together, gradually.
However, this wasn't the only thing Atticus did. He also trained his spiritual energy whenever he got the chance. Besides that, he trained his Auralithians abilities along with the superior races' techniques.
Unfortunately, Atticus had decided to leave awakening the blood element for later. Apart from the fact that he would need large amounts of blood that he couldn't get without going on a massacre, he didn't have the time to train it to a level where it would be useful.
At the end of the day, he had decided to leave its awakening for the military. There, blood and gore should be the norm.
Atticus trained without pause.
Then, time passed in a blur. Days, weeks, and then, months.
And now, Atticus stood in front of a full-sized mirror in his room, standing tall, well-dressed, handsome, and radiating an aura so intense that the mirror struggled to reflect him.
The day for military enlistment had arrived.
And Atticus was ready.