Atticus was the sort of person who would watch a beast devour someone and do absolutely nothing about it, especially if it would compromise his safety.
He wouldn’t feel sad or guilty—he wouldn’t feel anything at all. However, he was currently experiencing a lot of emotions as he stared at the mother and daughter pair.
Deep down, Atticus knew exactly why he was feeling this way.
It wasn’t because it was a young girl; Atticus had never cared about gender. Instead, it was something different. If not for today, even he wouldn’t have expected that he had a soft spot for something like this.
Why was Atticus feeling this way? Simply put, seeing a mother protect and put her child first despite the situation reminded him of his own mother, Anastasia. He couldn’t help but feel pity for the woman.
It also made him realize something else: his earlier thinking had been flawed. He had planned on killing everyone in this space and hadn’t actually considered the fact that many might be here unwillingly, captured and enslaved.
Humans were naturally complex beings, and Atticus was just beginning to understand that.
However, there was no doubt about it—he was very clear about his next course of action.
His eyes, ice-cold, turned and landed on the hunters laughing and drinking in the hall without any care in the world.
Just as the two women continued serving the food and drinks in the kitchen, the lights in the building flickered, the roaring fire in the middle of the room snuffed out.
The hunters, caught up in the boisterous atmosphere, didn’t notice at first. But when the lights suddenly went out, plunging the hall into darkness, the laughter died instantly.
“What the hell?” one of the hunters growled, fumbling for a weapon. The others reacted on instinct, and at that moment, they knew something was wrong.
They were hunters who had honed their senses over the years. They were used to being the hunters, but they also knew how it felt to be the prey.
Before anyone could react, flashes of blue and red light suddenly erupted through the hall, illuminating the room in a chaotic strobe effect.
The flashes were accompanied by the sounds of deadly, precise strikes—followed by sudden shouts and then the sickening thud of bodies hitting the floor.
“We’re under attack!”
“Someone get to the lights!”
“Ultor! Use your bloodline and let us see this piece of shit!”
Despite being thoroughly drunk, the intensity of the moment sobered them quickly.
Screams filled the air as the hunters scrambled to defend themselves, but it was futile.
The only thing they saw was a streak of red before heads were severed and rolled on the ground.
Atticus moved like a phantom through the darkness, his blade cutting through the hunters with brutal efficiency and ease. Not a single one of them was able to activate their bloodline or abilities.
It seemed as though Atticus knew exactly who was about to utilize mana or any powers and dispatched them before they could do anything.
One by one, they fell, unable to see their attacker or understand what was happening.
“It’s okay, it’s okay,” the older woman pulled her daughter into a tight hug, both of them huddling together on the kitchen floor as the chaos unfolded.
Her voice was steady, but her trembling body betrayed her fear. The attacker was most definitely brutal and seemed to have every intention of killing everyone in the room.
The screams echoed continuously, filling the hall with an eerie, unrelenting sound. After a few intense seconds, the lights in the hall suddenly flickered back on, revealing a deafening silence.
Neither the mother nor the daughter dared to stand up and check the situation, but soon, the sound of someone being choked reached their ears.
The mother clenched her fists, regaining a modicum of composure. She patted her daughter on the head before cautiously peeking through the kitchen window. Her eyes trembled at the scene she witnessed.
A figure clad in a tight black suit with a red shroud covering his face stood in the middle of the hall, holding the same man who had just slapped her across the face in a vice grip.
The man, Jeff, was undoubtedly bigger and more muscular than this figure, but it didn’t matter. Jeff struggled to breathe, his face turning an intense shade of blue.
All around this figure, the hall was drenched in crimson blood. More than 200 hunters lay with their heads severed, their lifeless bodies strewn about.
A devil.
This was the first word that came to her mind.
Jeff clawed and thrashed, desperately trying to escape Atticus’s grip, but it was futile. The grip tightened, and a resounding crack echoed across the hall.
Jeff’s lifeless body fell to the floor with a sickening thud.
The mother couldn’t move, her figure completely frozen in shock. The teenage girl, noticing her mother’s reaction, slowly looked up, her eyes widening with disbelief. The hunters were gone—every last one of them.
Atticus stood at the center of the devastation. His expression was as cold and calculated as ever. He turned and looked at the two women, causing them to flinch.
Atticus suddenly began to approach, prompting them to back away in absolute horror. Just as they were about to scream, Atticus disappeared, and they suddenly heard a voice from behind them.
“Do not scream.”
The voice was cold and calm, and they immediately obeyed, covering their mouths with their hands instinctively, their bodies trembling.
“Listen to me carefully. The Obsidian Order is my enemy, and I plan to eradicate every single one of them. I have no intention of killing you two; however, do not mistake me for a hero. Your safety is entirely in your own hands, and I will likely not interfere if you go out and get captured. I suggest you find a safe place to hide.”
Atticus’s aura suddenly turned icy and engulfed the two women, causing them to shake even more violently.
“Believe me when I say this: if I find out that either of you has betrayed me somehow, I will go to the ends of the earth to ensure your existence ends.”
As soon as Atticus finished speaking, without another word, he turned and vanished into the night, leaving the trembling mother and daughter behind.
