Atticus’s Odyssey: Reincarnated Into A Playground - Chapter 1462

Chapter 1462: Center

(AN: Don’t forget to read the previous chapter)

Atticus moved through the city in a blur of speed.

‘This city’s very large.’

About three minutes had passed since he killed the four warriors that ambushed him, and he’d been running toward the centre since but still hadn’t reached it.

Three minutes seemed small, but considering his speed and power, it wasn’t.

‘It’s too bad.’

He’d been faced with a conundrum earlier and had been forced to make a choice.

Absorbing the four warriors would shoot him straight into the viscount rank and enable him to ascend, but that would be bad news for his teammates.

‘Every champion ascends with their god.’

Should Atticus ascend, the others would also ascend. But one couldn’t compare the strength of baron rank subordinates to viscount rank. There, even the weakest of the weakest would end Magnus.

‘We have to ascend when we’re together.’

It was the safest option. Though that meant Atticus would have to put a brief pause on his power up, he wasn’t regretful.

‘But it’s just a pause. Status.’

Atticus focused on the number of worlds he had now.

‘One hundred and forty.’

Though he couldn’t ascend right now, he could still absorb their wills. However, his will strength had been capped at fifty minor worlds.

A sudden mechanical voice snapped him out of his thoughts.

“Esteemed gods and champions. Five minutes left until the territorial games begin. Anyone not at the square by then will be teleported out of the territory.”

Atticus narrowed his eyes.

‘Territorial games.’

According to the rules, this was how they claimed their territories. When the time was up, a game would be announced and the present gods forced to play for the territory. The winner would claim it.

‘Only five minutes.’

There was barely any time left. He couldn’t afford to be teleported out.

‘I have to move. Enhance.’

Mana surged through every muscle. His next step was so forceful that it cratered the floor. He blasted forward in a streak of light, zipping through the city.

Aside from the four, more gods unsurprisingly still came after him.

But now with fifty minor worlds, coupled with his true will, Atticus’s will was unparalleled.

Any clash with the other gods’ wills resulted in theirs instantly shattering. He kept piling up more worlds until he got to one hundred and sixty.

But soon, he noticed that the deeper he went, the stronger the opponents he fought. It irked Atticus that he couldn’t immediately use the power he gained, but he gritted his teeth and kept moving.

After some minutes, he noticed another problem.

‘They’re slowing me down.’

From individuals to groups, the gods appeared endless. It didn’t seem like they cared about the territory as much as killing him.

‘I can’t make it to the centre this way.’

Atticus came to an abrupt stop.

“Finally! There he is.”

Another group had found and surrounded him.

‘I have to change my approach.’

Simply running wasn’t going to cut it anymore. From the announcement, there were only two minutes left. Atticus fixed his eyes past the group toward the centre of the city.

‘A single movement.’

He gripped his katana just as the group began nearing him.

“We attack together.”

They were about to move when Atticus entered into a stance. Will and mana flared violently around him, turning the air heavy.

“Transcendence Slash: Godspeed Grace.”

He vanished.

“Huh? Where did he go?”

“I—”

They were about to turn their heads when crimson lines appeared across their necks. Their heads fell and rolled across the ground, blood pooling.

Far away, Atticus had blurred into a streak of light that tore through the city.

Every god he met on the way saw nothing, just a gust of wind, a disconnect, then their severed heads hitting the ground.

In an instant, he burst into the city square, skidding to a stop just as a mechanical voice echoed.

“The countdown is over. Gods and champions who failed to reach the centre will be teleported out.”

As bright light ignited across the city, Atticus swept his eyes around.

He gripped his katana tight.

‘They’re all staring at me.’

Countless gods and champions littered the square. Hands gripped weapons as they stared at him with varying expressions: excitement, glee, anticipation.

‘They’re different.’

He could tell from a glance. But it was to be expected. The gods who made it to the centre would have survived the ambushes and gathered kills.

‘At least forty minor worlds.’

The majority had gone beyond that, and some had even capped at fifty.

‘They’re after the bounty.’

He tightened his hold on his katana just as he felt a burning gaze on him. He turned and saw a red haired man staring at him coldly.

‘Redflame.’

But it wasn’t just him; he could feel multiple heavy gazes directed at him. Atticus quickly identified them.

‘Nature and iron faction.’

There were three major factions present, and from their gazes it was clear they were far from friendly.

‘They’ll all come for me.’

All eyes on him, Atticus calmly moved toward a building and stood by it.

No one was behind him or even close. Everyone stood watching in front of him.

His eyes flashed cold as his katana trembled.

‘Let them come.’

“The unqualified participants have successfully been teleported. Welcome, esteemed gods and champions, to the territorial games. Here are the rules.”

The square turned dead silent.

“Only god and god can battle. Champions can only face other champions. Each participant will be taken by respective worlds, not factions. Only a sole god and his champions can win the territory. The theme of this game is battle royale. Use whatever means necessary, the last one standing wins. The territorial games begin now.”

“He’s mine!”

The words had barely dropped when a god brandished his weapon and it exploded toward Atticus.

The others’ eyes flashed cold. The bounty would be theirs.

With blurring speed, they shot toward Atticus, weapons bared.

Lasnot smiled.

‘You’re dead.’

But as the hundreds of gods screamed toward Atticus, he only uttered one word.

“Logoth.”

The world turned silent.