Atticus's Odyssey: Reincarnated Into A Playground

Chapter 852  Restoration

Ismara was a Tier 6 spirit, and because of her bond with Seraphina, her established strength had unlocked the power of a paragon. In simple terms, she possessed the might of a paragon.

Seraphina called but Ismara did not listen.

The air grew still.

The spirits roared, their faces filled with hatred. One by one, they surged forward, their ethereal forms blazing with wrath.

The paragons of humanity tensed.

Magnus's gaze snapped to the falling Atticus. His lightning flared, and thunder roared.

Then, the air exploded.

A bolt of lightning struck down from the heavens with a deafening crack, bathing the entire battlefield in electric blue light.

In the wake of the lightning, Magnus appeared, his figure radiating raw power.

In one hand, he held his lightning-forged spear, crackling with volatile energy. In the other, he cradled Atticus's unconscious body, his grip careful but firm.

The air trembled under his presence. His cold, piercing gaze locked onto the charging spirits.

Ismara stopped abruptly, her golden eyes narrowing. The other spirits froze mid-air, their blazing rage flickering like dying flames.

Magnus swept his spear to the side, the motion alone creating a shockwave so powerful it made the ground tremble.

His voice boomed, deep and unrelenting, like thunder rolling across the sky.

"You have five seconds."

Four words. That was all.

But those words carried absolute authority, a warning that left no room for misunderstanding.

The spirits' auras faltered. Ismara's golden eyes trembled.

The meaning behind those words was clear.

Attack, and he will destroy you.

Hesitate, and he will destroy you.

Stay, and he will destroy you.

There was no reasoning with him. There was no bending him.

Boom.

Before anyone could react, three figures descended beside him.

The air grew heavier.

Oberon, Luminos, and Thorne landed with resounding force, their combined auras shaking the ruined battlefield.

Their expressions were cold, their gazes sharp as they faced the spirits.

One by one, the other paragons descended, forming a protective wall around Magnus and Atticus.

No words were exchanged.

Their intentions were clear.

This was a warning.

The tension was suffocating.

Ismara's golden gaze trembled as a figure stepped gently forward, landing in front of the paragons and facing the spirit directly.

"Seraphina," Ismara's voice was cold, her gaze sharp. "Are you choosing to betray the spirits? After everything we've done for you?"

Seraphina's expression was firm, a stark change from earlier. It was clear she had reached a decision in her mind. n/ô/vel/b//in dot c//om

She shook her head. "I will always be grateful to the spirits. But my race takes priority. Stop this madness, Ismara. You know this is not his fault."

Ismara's golden eyes narrowed, her translucent form glowing brighter as she faced Seraphina.

Seraphina was right. The only reason all this destruction had happened in the first place was because Blackgate had infiltrated the sector. What was Atticus supposed to do? Allow himself to be captured?

She knew this, but that wasn't why she was acting this way. Atticus had bonded with Ozeroth. The former was a human with immeasurable potential, and the latter? A loose cannon and an enemy to their king. Atticus could become an enemy to their king, and worse, he actually had the potential to be a threat.

Atticus was dangerous, too dangerous.

"Enough, Seraphina. If you will not act, then I will. The spirits will not forgive—"

"One second."

Magnus's deep voice cut through Ismara's words, thunder rumbling in the background.

The air went still.

Every gaze turned to Magnus, his towering figure radiating oppressive power. His spear crackled with lightning, and the entire battlefield seemed to hold its breath.

Just as it seemed like everything was about to erupt, like the world itself had paused, a purple light descended from the heavens.

It pierced through the sky like divine judgment, its brilliance flooding the entire sector. Every eye turned upward, stunned by the overwhelming presence they felt.

The light descended slowly, meeting the falling Eternal Canopy just as it was about to crash into the ground.

The moment they touched, a radiant glow enveloped the tree.

The wound in the trunk sealed itself, glowing with a soft purple hue. The broken branches mended, and the gaping scar left by Atticus's katana vanished entirely.

In mere seconds, the Eternal Canopy was whole again, its massive form more imposing than ever. Waves of spiritual energy poured from it, blanketing the battlefield in a soothing, vibrant aura.

But the atmosphere didn't calm.

Magnus, Oberon, and the other paragons froze, their gazes darkening. They could feel it, the sheer, expansive power.

It wasn't just spiritual energy. It was something far greater.

Ismara's blazing form dimmed. She lowered her head, and one by one, every spirit bowed deeply in reverence.

"My king…" Ismara whispered.

Magnus's fists clenched. The oppressive aura was suffocating, an unseen weight pressing down on all of them. He gritted his teeth, his body trembling slightly.

The other paragons glanced at one another with unease. Each of them felt the presence that had arrived with the light. It was as though this being was everywhere and nowhere, watching them from every direction.

And then, the gaze shifted.

The presence focused on Atticus.

The spiritual energy around them thickened, pressing heavily against the air. Slowly, Atticus's unconscious body floated out of Magnus's arms, rising toward the tree.

Magnus's eyes widened. His thunderous aura erupted, lightning crackling violently around him as he forced his body to move.

With a roar, he broke free of the unseen bindings, lunging forward and grabbing Atticus mid-air. Instantly, he pointed the tip of his spear high, a silent warning.

The oppressive gaze lingered. It seemed to study Magnus and Atticus for a long moment, almost as though it were amused.

After a few seconds, the tree glowed brighter.

A wave of spiritual energy exploded outward from its massive trunk, washing over Sector 8.

The ground trembled, but this time, it wasn't destruction, it was restoration.

The crumbled buildings rebuilt themselves, brick by brick. The shattered roads fused back together. Entire communities that had been reduced to ruins were restored as though they had never been touched by chaos.

Sector 8, once devastated, now stood whole again, vibrant and untouched.

And after a brief, piercing stare at Atticus, the oppressive presence disappeared.