After chatting and catching up with Aurora for a while, she left the room, leaving Atticus alone.
He decided to get the well deserved sleep he had missed for the past 3 weeks. Soon enough, he entered the realm of dreams as his head sank into the soft, fluffy pillow.
After a few hours, Atticus woke up feeling energized. After washing his face in the bath room sink, he stepped out of his room and started making his way down the hall.
Checking the time on his artifact, Atticus saw that it was just after 4 PM. Many of the youths would have been given breaks to eat and rest for a while, which wasn’t surprising that he was seeing a crowd of youths in front of him.
“Hm?” Atticus narrowed his eyes at the crowd of youths in the middle of the hallway.
Despite the narrowness of the hallway, all the youths were gathered in a semicircle, surrounding something or someone.
The air was filled with their collective shouts and cheers,
“Get him!”
“Fight! Fight! Fight!”
It was obvious; there was a brawl taking place in the center of the crowd.
Atticus’s gaze turned icy as he started walking towards the crowd.
The youths were packed so tightly that it seemed impossible for anyone to navigate through the mass to reach the center.
One could only wonder how Atticus planned on getting past it to the middle.
But just as Atticus was making his way closer to the crowd,
“Get him!” one of the boys shouting from the back of the crowd exclaimed. Just as he was about to shout again, the sound of foot steps approaching him from behind caught his attention.
It was surprising, especially given how loud the crowd was, it shouldn’t have been possible for him hear something as faint as a footstep.
But he could hear it clearly.
Something about those footsteps was calling to him, as though his body was begging him to look back. And look back he did.
Turning his gaze backward, his eyes widened almost to the point of bulging out of their sockets as he immediately froze in shock.
And as if it were the most natural thing to do, he rapidly tapped the youth in front of him and swiftly moved to the side.
The youth he had tapped turned back in annoyance, but his heart skipped a beat as he saw Atticus rapidly approaching.
He immediately tapped the two youths in front of him, and then swiftly moved out of the way.
This process repeated itself as each youth turned their gazes backward and saw Atticus approaching.
They all immediately quieted down and moved out of the way after tapping the person in front of them until a clear path to the unfolding fight was made, the youths parting to make way for Atticus.
No words were spoken, not even a single gesture was made, but the current chilling expression on Atticus was more than enough for each of the youths to understand: he was angry.
The rest of the crowd on the other side initially wondered what was happening, but as soon as they saw Atticus, they instantly fell silent.
As Atticus reached the center, his gaze instantly landed on the cause of all this commotion.
It was two male youths, as one might have expected.
On one side stood the battered figure of Hen, blood stains marking the otherwise pristine white floor beneath him.
On the opposing side was a light skinned, muscular youth who wore a broad grin on his face, currently facing Hen.
“Ho, come on Hen, I was just kidding. I didn’t mean to call your degenerate father a lowlife. Oh! Oops, made a mistake again,” he laughed while taunting.
“You bastard!” Hen screamed through gritted teeth, attempting to steady his trembling legs. He knew he was no match for him; he was a non-combatant while the other was part of the units.
During the past 3 weeks, a hierarchy was already beginning to form.
And this was especially so between the unit members and non combatants. The unit members were always bullying the non combatants, and they always had to take it because they didn’t have the strength to fight back.
But this time, he had insulted his father! There was no way he was going to let that go.
The other youth chuckled at Hen, but then he suddenly noticed an oddity. He had been so focused on Hen that he hadn’t noticed when the crowd went silent.
His eyes suddenly turned to the side and landed on Atticus, who was walking towards them with an icy expression on his face.
He immediately froze in his tracks, his face morphing into fear. Despite the fact that Atticus hadn’t shown himself that often these past 3 weeks, none of the youths ever, for even one second, forgot how much of a monster he was.
Hen, seeing him standing frozen, seized this chance as he quickly unsheathed a knife from under his robe, lunging at the youth who stood frozen.
‘Shit!’ The youth thought; it was too late for him to react. He closed his eyes, expecting the artifact to protect him, but nothing happened.
Opening his eyes, he saw Atticus, who had suddenly appeared in front of him, holding Hen’s hand by the wrist.
“Let go, you bastard!” Hen immediately screamed, squirming and trying to free his hand from Atticus’s hold, but Atticus didn’t even budge an inch.
But despite this, Hen didn’t relent; he was too lost in anger. He immediately brought out another knife from his robe and suddenly attacked Atticus with his free hand.
Atticus fixed his icy gaze on Hen as he spoke, “I told you,” he said, his words cutting through the air, sounding in the ears of every single one of the youths watching silently.
Even in the face of the blade inching closer to him, Atticus’s expression remained unchanged as he continued,
“I meant every single word,”
