Atticus's eyes fixed themselves on Drill Sergeant Viktor Halden, wondering why the demon had come.
'Well, he's a staff sergeant now.'
Atticus hadn't just been on the island meditating. He had made a few very brief journeys during the past few days.
After demoting Voren and appointing Viktor as the new staff sergeant, he had to make sure his order was followed.
Even now, he hadn't called for nor met with Colonel Zenon. While training and leading the alliance military wasn't even on the list of his goals, Atticus thought it was very important to establish his presence from the outset.
The alliance military could crumble for all he cared. Atticus only saw them as a means to an end, a flight of stairs he needed to ascend to reach his goal.
Regardless, he had every intention of taking each step seriously. As a general, he outranked a colonel.
His decision to ignore Zenon was meant to send a message to him and everyone else with a modicum of insight, he didn't need permission to do anything.
To Atticus's order, Colonel Zenon hadn't objected. In fact, the Evolari had completely supported it, causing another wave of shock through the sergeant ranks.
Voren, the former staff sergeant turned drill sergeant, had been royally pissed. After his unfavorable meeting with Zenon, he had stormed off and attempted to rile up the other sergeants, trying to get them on his side and file a petition against both Zenon and Atticus.
That ended badly.
If it had been just Atticus, some might have considered it. However, Zenon's power and influence were absolute. None supported the Nullite. Because of this, Voren ended up as a mere drill sergeant on one of the islands owned by a Nullite division.
'Looks like it turned out okay.'
Voren wasn't even someone Atticus had considered an enemy. If not for his near-perfect memory, he probably wouldn't have even remembered the Nullite's name.
Just like the military, Voren had been a means to an end, a scapegoat Atticus used to send a message. He had made it painfully clear to the other sergeants that he wasn't to be messed with.
"General Atticus Ravenstein!"
Viktor saluted, his back straight.
'He looks better,' Atticus noted. The gloomy aura surrounding Viktor had disappeared, replaced by a more vibrant energy.
He only nodded calmly in response, answering casually. "What's up? Is there any problem?"
Viktor maintained his salute, his posture firm and respectful.
"No, General. I came here personally to inform you about some upcoming changes."
The way he addressed Atticus now compared to before was like heaven and earth.
Atticus's brow lifted slightly. "Changes?"
Viktor nodded. "Yes, General. As I mentioned earlier, the first three to four months are designated for basic training. That phase is now coming to an end. After this, we move on to the real training."
Atticus's expression remained calm, but there was a slight glint of interest in his mismatched eyes. He remembered Viktor mentioning this exact thing in the past.
"From this point forward, the focus will shift to simulated battles, scenarios that mimic real-world combat situations. The goal is to prepare you all for actual war. Survival, tactics, leadership, it will all be tested under battlefield conditions."
"Additionally, the military has decided to structure these battle teams differently. Instead of remaining in their normal divisions, recruits will now be grouped under each of the Apexes."
That made Atticus pause slightly.
"You mean each Apex will lead a team?"
He didn't like the sound of that. It sounded like unnecessary and extra work, work Atticus didn't want.
"Yes, General. Each recruit will be given the choice of which Apex's team to join. They will undergo training under that Apex's leadership and be expected to function as a unit."
'Shit.'
It was obviously an order that came from the higher-ups.
'They want the Apexes to play a major role in the war.'
"That means, General, you should expect crowds here soon. Your island will no longer be just you. All those who choose to follow you will be stationed here."
Atticus exhaled softly, glancing around at his peaceful surroundings.
So his island of solitude was about to become a training ground.
'UNACCEPTABLE!'
A thunderous roar exploded in Atticus's mind, rattling his very thoughts.
'Stand your ground, bond! We cannot allow this!'
Atticus sighed, already knowing where this was going.
'This island is ours! Our sanctuary! A place of greatness! It is meant for kings, not to be sullied by the footsteps of the lesser!'
Ozeroth's indignant fury practically radiated through their bond, his voice shaking with outrage.
'To allow mere randoms to set foot on our holy land, no, our divine domain, is an insult beyond measure! I forbid it!'
Atticus rubbed his temple, already feeling a headache forming.
'Calm down. There's no choice.'
'There's always a choice!' Ozeroth snapped. 'We simply cast them out! Or better yet, obliterate whoever dares step foot here!'
Atticus sighed deeper, shaking his head.
'Okay, how about this— 'he said, adopting a more thoughtful tone. 'Think of them as… servants.'
Ozeroth paused.
'Servants?' he repeated, his tone suddenly intrigued.
Atticus nodded. 'Yes. A whole group of people who will follow us. Who we can order around, make do whatever we want.'
There was a brief silence.
Then—
'Hmm…' Ozeroth murmured thoughtfully.
A moment later, his tone completely shifted.
'That… doesn't sound bad.'
Atticus could practically feel the smug satisfaction radiating from Ozeroth as the spirit settled into the idea. He could never miss a chance to be dominant.
'Yes… YES! They shall be our servants! They will labor, and they will bask in the mere honor of standing in our presence!'
Atticus rolled his eyes.
'Sure. Whatever helps you sleep at night.'
After calming Ozeroth, Atticus excused Viktor, though the latter didn't seem eager to leave without saying his piece.
Viktor hesitated for a brief moment, his hands curling slightly before he finally spoke.
"Thank you."
His words were so genuine, so unfiltered, that Atticus paused, his mismatched eyes flicking back toward him.
'His eyes are clear.'
There was clarity in Viktor's gaze, a look free of doubt, as if a weight had finally been lifted from his shoulders.
"For what?" Atticus asked.