Atticus’ fists moved in an unending torrent; he seemed frenzied, yet his actions were incredibly controlled. If not, considering the brutality of each punch, how could Sonorous survive for so long?
Sonorous was amongst the four people Atticus planned on teaching a ‘lesson’ to today. Atticus had never been one to care about the reasons for people’s actions, especially when it was against him.
But he had never once felt any hostility from Sonorous, even today when they faced each other.
He wasn’t going to lie, it got him thinking a bit. He just couldn’t understand why Sonorous had decided to fight him. Was it really about his friendship with Gerald? He didn’t think so.
This thought only lasted for half a second before Atticus deadened the thought. At the end of the day, it didn’t matter.
Actions beget consequences, and that small fact wasn’t going to change.
Sonorous’ cries of pain and horror were unceasing. Seconds ticked by continuously without Atticus showing any signs of letting up. Even as crimson blood began to rain from the skies, his fists continued to fly forward.
As the seconds passed, Atticus’s assault finally slowed.
He was still gripping Sonorous’s head tightly, having pummeled him with such intensity that his battered body lay limp.
The entire students and instructors alike watching this unfolding scene felt their scalps go numb, the hairs on their backs rising. In many locations, there was only utter silence.
Atticus’s grip suddenly tightened, a resounding crack echoing across the space, reaching the ears of the audiences watching.
Sonorous was still able to let out a pained sound before a golden light encompassed him, and he disappeared.
For the briefest of moments, the world turned silent. The gazes of those watching subtly cleaned their eyes, wondering if what they had just watched was real.
In the coliseum, the sounds of cheers sounded, but only in two areas.
The Ravenstein cheered loudly, their voices booming and their mirth resounding. They each stood up from their seats, cheering at the top of their lungs.
The same could be said for the area where the members of the White Omen division were seated. The screams and cheers of more than one thousand students echoed along with the Ravensteins.
Both groups had one thing in common apart from the current cheering: they had witnessed Atticus’s mind-boggling display of power. This much was truly nothing.
Apart from these two areas, the remaining students, numbering in the millions, were utterly quiet. Many leaned back in their seats, trying to comprehend the events that just occurred.
He had defeated them in seconds? No one could truly explain how they were currently feeling; it was completely surreal.
Each student had myriad thoughts running through their heads, but if one should listen to them, they would note that they were all boiling down to one question: what the heck just happened?
Aside from them, only the expression of one particular commentator was completely different from the students, Gon.
He held the mic so tightly that the whites of his hands were visible. If not for the fact that the mic itself was an artifact designed to withstand the might of a master rank, considering the fact that the commentators might have to maintain a vibrant atmosphere which would require them to be jubilant, it would have already been crushed into oblivion already.
‘I’m rich,’ those words resounded in Gon’s head constantly, his gaze fixed on the screen.
A myriad of bets had been placed by the operators, some more or less favoring Atticus, others the rest of the third years.
Gon had made a very simple bet, one that no one amongst the other operators dared and attempted to make: the battle between Atticus and the third years would end in at most 20 seconds.
The instructors were already well aware of the rules of the leaders summit and knew that they would each be restricted. They even somewhat knew about the alliance that had formed between them. Considering all of this, many had seen Gon as a fool for making such a bet.
But now, he was the one with a wide, excited grin and the rest of the instructors had darkened expressions.
He was rich!
The booth where the instructors were gathered was utterly silent, an awkward tension enveloping the room.
However, this was abruptly broken by the crazy loud sound of Jared laughing at the top of his lungs while hitting his fist on his chest. He had long since finished his cart of food; the events had been far too interesting for him not to.
Jared suddenly stood up from his seat. Gerald and the other Stellaris family youths might have been defeated, but he didn’t seem to care about that fact.
So what if they were the young masters of the Stellaris family? He was far too excited about the presence of this monster in the human domain to care about such trivialities.
He walked towards the front where the large screen was being displayed as though he wanted to enter the screen, his laughter showing no signs of stopping.
The other instructors were silent, their disbelieving gazes fixed on the screen. Many of them had somehow stood up from their seats in shock during the battle.
Despite Atticus’s rampage, one third-year student still remained unscathed. It was none other than Dante Starhaven, the first rank of the third years.
However, there was no single hint of hope in their gazes. Considering everything Atticus had done, wouldn’t they have to be insanely brainless to believe any sort of miracle would happen?
A small smile spread on Isabella’s face, her left leg crossed over her right. Compared to Jared, her reaction was a bit more subtle. She was happy about the development, but she knew well enough that it wasn’t over.
Isabella turned her gaze backward, her eyes narrowing as she saw her father’s empty seat. ‘Is he planning something?’ She thought worriedly.
The entire area was silent; every single one of the third year students that came to attack Atticus defeated well… except one.
Atticus suddenly turned, his cold gaze landing on the figure of Dante.
