The Apocalypse Lance moved with unreal speed, so fast that many Master+ rank crew members in attendance couldn’t catch its movements.
And yet, as it crossed the distance swiftly and was about to make contact with the maelstrom of defensive elements, it was as though time slowed, the lance moving at a snail’s pace. But those watching knew that this was far from the truth; the intensity of the moment was just that high.
Eventually, the lance met the swirling defense, and the resulting impact was nothing short of cataclysmic.
It met the golden arcane shield first. This particular art’s strength had always followed Atticus as he ranked up. Considering the might of the lance, the next event wasn’t a surprise.
The moment the lance’s light touched the shield, it immediately disintegrated into nothingness, evaporating in a blinding flash.
Next, the lance collided with the crimson rune shield. The runes flared brightly, trying to hold back the onslaught, but the sheer force was too much.
The crimson shield crumbled into oblivion, shattered into a million glowing fragments, unable to withstand the overwhelming power.
The lance tore through each barrier with relentless momentum, leaving trails of golden and crimson sparks in its wake and finally reached the swirling elements.
Light and darkness collided, creating a blinding flash that obliterated the surroundings.
Fire and water clashed, steam and flames erupting in a violent blaze.
Earth and air met, the ground shattering and winds howling with ferocious force. Lightning and space intertwined, reality bending and crackling with electric fury.
The maelstrom of elements held, but only for a second. A blinding flash of light ignited, sending a wave of force outwards.
The ground split open, fissures radiating outward from the epicenter. Shockwaves tore through the battlefield, sending debris flying. The sky lit up with the brilliance of a thousand suns, the atmosphere sundering.
Everything within a hundred-meter radius was vaporized, reduced to nothing in the blink of an eye.
In the next second, each of the spectators’ gazes flashed as a figure was sent hurtling backward with the force of a rocket.
He hit the ground akin to a meteorite, each impact like a stone skipping across water. Brutal shockwaves erupted with every collision, the ground cracking and shattering beneath him.
He bounced and crashed, each brutal hit sending debris flying and leaving deep craters in his wake, the sheer force unrelenting until he finally came to a skidding halt, his figure lodged deeply into the ground.
The area still appeared fuzzy, many of the watching eyes unable to properly gain an accurate assessment of the situation and damage.
Apart from Magnus, Ae’zard, Avalon, and Sirius, many still weren’t sure who the figure that had just shot backward was.
However, the smile on Ae’zard’s lips remained undisturbed, an unreadable expression appearing on Magnus’s face.
Avalon and Sirius frowned, their gazes fixed on the figure lodged deep into the earth.
A palpable and formless wave suddenly erupted from where Magnus and Ae’zard were, spreading out in every direction. In the next second, the insane amount of dust obscuring everyone’s vision was cleared.
Each of their gazes settled on the battlefield.
On one side was the crimson figure of Ae’ark standing in a large, deep crater, his light significantly dimmed compared to a few seconds ago.
His breathing was haggard, an overwhelming amount of fatigue engulfing him. The butt of his spear was slightly lodged into the ground as he used it for support.
A wave of smoke steamed from the top of the spear, a silent reminder of the devastation it had just unleashed.
No one needed to be told; the third art had taken a significant amount of power to unleash, if not everything Ae’ark had.
‘Looks like it’s still too much, huh,’
Ae’ark looked at his trembling hand and then clenched his fist, an intense weakness engulfing him.
‘I still haven’t mastered it. Looks like Armageddon isn’t powerful enough yet.’
‘There’s no helping it. Did I get him?’
Ae’ark turned his gaze away from his hand, towards his front to see complete and utter devastation.
An enormous scorching trail snaked from where he was standing, moving forward and stopping at the entrance of an even more massive and deep crater whose surface kept on emitting an intense black smoke, a small cloud already forming around it in the sky.
Ae’ark remembered that that was the spot where Atticus had been standing earlier, the spot where the lance and elements met.
He looked further, squinting his eyes until it settled on the spot where Atticus had been lodged.
Ae’ark wasn’t the only one focused on that location. Every single one of the spectators, even Ae’zard, gazed at that location, each with different expressions on their faces.
Yotad was trying hard to stop himself from jumping down and helping his new master while Dario remained surprisingly calm.
To him, there was no need to panic. Even if Atticus lost here, it didn’t matter in any way.
No human had been able to land a punch on an Apex before. It had been like this for generations. And yet, Atticus had not only broken that record, he had completely shattered it.
It hadn’t just been a spar, nor had it been a one-sided beat down. It had been a battle. One that was as intense as it was great. It had been epic! A battle between two warriors!
Atticus had matched an apex and not only punched him but had pushed said Apex to the limit! The feats Atticus had just performed, every single one of them had been mind-boggling.
They had both reached Master+ rank battle strength! Didn’t that mean that that little boy could battle with anyone on this ship? It was really insane that there was not a single one of them that felt any hint of sadness. What he had accomplished here had been way more than enough.
Amara couldn’t help but suck in a cold breath. She knew that this current generation of the main family were a family of monsters; everyone knew this very fact. But everything that had just happened was out of this world.
They had been wondering why a first-year had been able to leave the academy in such a short time frame. But that had been incredibly wrong! They had been asking the wrong questions entirely.
It wasn’t about how he had left; what they were supposed to be wondering was why the hell was he enrolled in the academy in the first place!?
She couldn’t help but thank her stars that she and the other crew members had been completely polite to him when they had met. They would have earned the ire of the next leader of the Ravenstein family.
None of them seemed to care about the fact that Atticus had just lost the exchange, each with different thoughts in their heads.
The gazes of the spectators and Ae’ark alike couldn’t help but narrow into pinpricks in unison as they all saw a single hand burst out from the hole Atticus had been lodged in.
The hand trembled with intensity but its determination was true.
It bent down and landed on the ground as support.
Slowly, and with immense effort, Atticus pulled his whole body out of the ground, dust and debris falling from him.
The sound of intense breathing rocked the space as Atticus’s chest heaved up and down rapidly. His breath was heavy, his whole body completely battered, blood mixing with smoldering remains of ashes and debris.
However, despite all of this, despite his pitiful state, as each of them met his eyes, the hearts of every single person watching couldn’t help but tremble.
Both of Atticus’s fists clenched hard and, despite the overwhelming pain racking his whole body, he forced himself to move, his legs trembling as he stood tall.
Throughout the entire scene, both his eyes, burning with an unyielding fire, were fixed directly on Ae’ark’s figure.
A rush of emotion erupted from the heart of the Ravenstein family, making each of their blood boil. The frowns on Avalon and Sirius’s faces morphed into huge grins.
Each of the crew members clenched their fists hard, their gazes directly fixated on the battlefield.
The Apocalypse Lance had been nothing short of a Master+ rank full power attack. In fact, most if not all of them on the ship couldn’t survive that attack.
Ae’ark’s attack had been that powerful.
And yet, somehow, their young master had survived it. It hadn’t been without consequences, but he had survived it and was still standing with his head held high!
No one needed to be told; there was no one present who didn’t know what Atticus’s gaze represented.
It was the unwillingness to give up, the relentless determination to fight no matter what.
A feeling that, even if he lost an arm and a leg, even if he lost all his limbs, he would still find a way to win
this fight.
There was not a single person present who didn’t feel their fighting intent ignite. This boy was too much!
Atticus’s breathing was haggard, his body completely and utterly weak. And yet, there was no single hesitation in his gaze.
His eyes were calm, his aura peaceful. He had already made peace with the kind of person he was.
Atticus’s right hand moved slowly, shaking slightly.
The hearts of many watching the scene trembled as they each realized the implications of his actions.
Regardless, the movements of his arm remained true, touching the small mass lodged in his chest.
It happened in an instant, the air changing.
