"You don't know what you've done for me," Viktor continued. "For years, I've been lost."
Atticus remained silent, listening.
"I was once in charge of a squadron. They were my responsibility, my comrades, my brothers and sisters in arms."
A shadow passed over his face. "And they all died during a mission."
The words were delivered calmly, but Atticus could hear the rawness buried underneath.
"I watched them die. And what I saw that day… it made me believe that everything we were fighting for was a lost cause."
His fists clenched.
"What was the point of training, of fighting, of sacrificing, when in the end, we were just bodies to be used and discarded?"
"For so long, I hesitated. I went through the motions, but I had no real drive, no real reason to push forward. I lost faith in this war. I lost faith in myself."
He looked directly at Atticus.
And for the first time, his eyes burned with something new.
"Then I saw you."
Atticus didn't react, but Viktor could see that he was listening.
"A child," Viktor continued, "but one with more will than warriors who have fought for centuries. More talent than the strongest among us. More drive than anyone I've ever known."
His lips curled slightly, and he chuckled.
"And suddenly, every hesitation I had vanished."
"Because you reminded me why we fight. You reminded me what it means to be a warrior. And for that, I am grateful."
Viktor took a step back.
His crimson eyes locked onto Atticus's intense gaze, and a small smirk played at his lips.
"I hope that fire in your eyes is never snuffed out, General."
Viktor saluted, his stance unwavering, filled with utmost respect. He didn't care that he was showing such reverence to a child.
And without another word, he turned and left the island.
Even moments after Viktor left, Atticus's expression was still filled with intrigue.
'To think I actually inspired someone.'
It felt a bit surreal. He hadn't even done anything, and yet, somehow, he had helped a random demon get past his trauma.
'I wonder who else I inspired,' Atticus thought, feeling a bit giddy.
'Tch. What a useless thing to feel good about,' Ozeroth scoffed.
'It is only natural that the great inspire,' Ozeroth continued. 'People should bow. They should worship. It is the proper order of things.'
Atticus sighed, shaking his head. 'Of course you'd say that.'
'I speak only the truth.'
'Right. Truth.' Atticus rolled his eyes. 'So when are they supposed to start the worshipping part? Should I prepare a shrine?'
'A throne, bond. A throne. And perhaps a grand temple—'
'I'm ignoring you now.'
'A golden throne, mind you!' Ozeroth pressed on. 'Preferably adorned with jewels and bathed in the eternal light of our greatness—'
Atticus tuned him out, shaking his head with a smirk as he returned to his thoughts.
He had trained the Hell's Fire to an acceptable extent and could now use it effectively in battle.
'But it's not enough.'
Atticus wasn't satisfied.
He still focused on increasing his proficiency, and as time passed, what he had dreaded finally happened.
Multiple airships appeared in the skies above his island, and the instant their hatches opened, an army of recruits dropped down like ants, swarming the forests.
Without another word, each of the airships took off, leaving the island.
Atticus sighed heavily, opening his eyes and standing up from his cross-legged position.
'Let's get this over with.'
With his body filled with reluctance, his figure blurred, crossing a large distance in an instant and appearing in front of the army of recruits.
The recruits landed in waves, scattering across the landscape like ants swarming a new colony.
Some immediately began murmuring, their gazes sweeping across their surroundings.
"OMG! This place… it's heaven compared to where we were."
"Fresh air? Actual stable ground? And is that… clean water?"
"Damn, we really suffered before coming here, huh?"
Even the Ravensteins at the front, who had been in occasional contact with Atticus, were looking around with intrigue.
The air was the freshest they had inhaled in this training camp, crisp and rich with mana, unlike the oppressive, war-torn landscapes they had endured before.
The forests were lush, the climate balanced, neither too hot nor too cold. Ideal conditions.
In contrast to the brutal training camps many of them had endured for months, this place felt like a paradise.
"Tsk, tsk, tsk…"
Nate, standing near the front, shook his head, shocked beyond belief.
"And here I thought we were all suffering together! But no, our great leader was living the high life!"
He was ignored by most, who were used to his antics. And as the others calmly scanned their surroundings…
Suddenly, a weight unlike anything before descended.
A vast, overwhelming aura crashed down, pressing against the recruits. It was as though gravity itself had shifted, locking them in place.
None could move.
Their gazes shot to the skies.
And there—
A lone figure floated high above them.
Atticus stood in midair, his expression calm.
Akin to a god surveying his domain.
A king gazing upon his subjects.
And in that instant, the entire army fell into utter silence.
'They're all here.'
With a glance, Atticus had already scanned the millions gathered below him.
Their numbers were truly staggering. But this was mostly because of the humans.
'Or at least, the majority of them.'
It seemed like nearly every human division had chosen him.
He noted the smug expression on Aurora's face, the large grin on Kael's, and the intense stare of Zoey.
They each had different reactions, but Atticus didn't dwell on them. Instead, his eyebrow rose slightly as he noticed something that almost made him burst into laughter.
Many of the mid and lower-race Apexes had been killed during the Nexus competition. Because of this, and considering Atticus was basically the only lower-race Apex alive, the majority of the other lower races had decided to join his division. Along with some from the mid-races.
But this wasn't even what baffled him the most.
'Do these people think?'
Dimensari. Vampyros. Nullite.
These three races were already marked in Atticus's mind as active enemies.
Their hatred for him was very much mutual. The hate for Atticus was shared among every member of their race.
And yet…
Yet, some of their members had still dared to show up on his island.