Getting to the camp Atticus went straight to the beast division to turn in his hunt.
“Hey, Little genius. You came back quick,” Belle greeted Atticus with a smile as he approached the counter.
Atticus noticed she seemed a bit more cheerful today, and it didn’t take him long to figure out why. “No paperwork today?” Atticus inquired as he handed over his kills.
“No! It’s like the heavens listened to my prayers!” Belle replied cheerfully as she inspected the carcasses, and Atticus couldn’t help but chuckle.
While examining the carcass, Belle’s eyes widened. “You killed an adult Horned Lupinor!” she exclaimed, but then realizing her mistake, she quickly closed her mouth. However, it was too late; the trainees in the vicinity had heard her, and hushed whispers began to ripple through the hall.
Atticus noticed most of them staring at him with shocked expressions, but he simply glanced at them before returning his attention to Belle, who was already giving him an apologetic look.
“I’m sorry. But you’re a first-year! How?” she whispered, leaning in and using one hand to cover her mouth, as if that would prevent others from overhearing.
Atticus just shrugged casually. “It just happened.”
Betty stared at Atticus incredulously for a moment, then shook her head. ‘Don’t bother yourself, Belle. Understanding geniuses is impossible,’ she thought to herself. She quickly entered a few things on her holographic screen, and Atticus immediately received 1000 Raven points
Atticus’s eyes widened at the number of points he received. ‘To think I wasted a whole month!’ he thought. In the past, each squad member had to divide the points among themselves, but now that he was hunting alone, all the points were his to keep. Atticus couldn’t help but imagine how many points he could have amassed if he had been hunting solo from the beginning.
He thanked Belle for her assistance and left the Beast Division.
A few hours later, the camp was shrouded in darkness, with most trainees either training in their rooms or resting. The silence of the night hung heavy in the air as a young boy made his way through the camp. This boy had white hair and an unmistakable look of a bully – who else but Helodor.
Helodor had been feeling increasingly frustrated over the past two days. Since the incident involving Atticus, he had been desperately trying to beg his master, Rowan, to take him back. But Rowan was not listening, and this fear gnawed at Helodor. He worried that Atticus might use his power to come after him once camp was over. With Rowan no longer offering protection, Helodor felt vulnerable.
Walking back to his room, Helodor decided to take a shortcut, cutting through a narrow alleyway-like space between the buildings. As he entered, an eerie feeling washed over him, and he felt a presence behind him. Reacting quickly, he turned and came face-to-face with the source of his fears: Atticus.
Atticus, with his piercing blue eyes and spiky white hair, regarded Helodor with a cold gaze.
Terrified, Helodor started backing away, stammering, “Wh-what do you want? Haven’t you beaten me enough?” His voice trembled with fear.
Atticus remained silent, his eyes fixed on Helodor. He took a step closer, causing Helodor to retreat even faster. “Please,” Helodor pleaded, his voice shaking, “I’m begging you! I won’t do it again!” He clasped his hands together in desperation as he backed up and eventually lost his balance and fell onto the ground.
Atticus continued his advance without uttering a word. Helodor found himself unable to move, frozen in fear. As Atticus closed in, Helodor shut his eyes tightly and started crying, tears streaming down his face. “Please,” he sobbed, his voice barely audible between sobs.
And then, to Helodor’s utter humiliation, he wet his pants, hot stream of liquid drenching his pants.
Atticus finally stopped in front of him at a safe distance from the pool of urine forming and spoke, his tone icy. “I’m going to ask you only once. Who asked you to do it?”
Hearing the question, Helodor’s eyes widened, and his teeth began to chatter uncontrollably.
As Atticus observed the terrified Helodor, his thoughts churned. He knew that someone had been plotting against him. The intensity of a 13-year-old’s hatred was not enough to warrant an attempt on his life, especially when Atticus hadn’t done anything significant to provoke such extreme actions.
On that day, Atticus had been enraged, and he had gone too far with Helodor, rendering the boy’s mouth practically unusable. That was why he had decided to have a more private “conversation” with him later, after he had calmed down.
As Atticus maintained his cold gaze, Helodor trembled on the ground, the involuntary stream of urine showing no signs of stopping. Atticus crouched down, positioning himself at eye level with Helodor. The mere act caused Helodor to flinch and shut his eyes tightly, as if bracing for something terrible.
In a tone that demanded compliance, Atticus spoke, “Open them.”
Helodor obeyed instantly, not daring to find out what might happen if he refused. His eyes met Atticus’s piercing blue gaze, and his lips quivered as tears flowed freely, mucus clogging his nose and mouth.
Atticus spoke again, his voice unwavering, “I won’t repeat myself.” Helodor stuttered in response, his voice high-pitched and choked, “Please, I can’t.” It sounded as if he was struggling to speak, with mucus obstructing his words.
Frustrated by Helodor’s hesitation, Atticus sighed and raised his arm. Helodor, terrified, began to speak, “Mana co-” But before he could finish, blood started seeping from his eyes and ears. Atticus, seeing this, quickly struck the back of Helodor’s head, causing the boy to lose consciousness.
Although Helodor hadn’t been able to finish his sentence, anyone with at least two brain cells would have discerned his intent: “Mana contract,” Atticus muttered.
As Atticus’s mind raced, he tried to piece together the puzzle of who might be plotting against him.
“It has to be someone high,” he surmised. While he couldn’t be certain, Atticus was aware that obtaining a mana contract was not something anyone could do. He knew that the camp must have stringent checks and regulations in place to monitor everything coming in and out of the facility, especially given that it was a place dedicated to the development of the family’s youth.
Only someone high enough could acquire something like that. What Atticus didn’t know was that the mana contract every staff member took was extremely thorough. No staff member could, at any time, try to harm or hire or command someone to harm the trainees.
In fact, Rowan hadn’t directly asked Helodor to harm Atticus; it was Helodor who had taken it upon himself to do so.
As he was thinking, Atticus’s thoughts suddenly shifted to a certain red-eyed girl, ‘Rowan,’ he thought.
‘He’s high enough to let that happen, and that would explain why he’s training Aurora so hard. Does he have some kind of feud with the main family?’ he pondered.
It was all about timing. The first time he had met Aurora, she looked vibrant and full of life; the second time, after he got the first rank, she still looked okay the next day. But then he got first in the morning training, and Aurora started showing up weak and beaten. It was odd.
‘But this assumption isn’t foolproof. It might just be his nature; maybe he simply wants his daughter to be the strongest. There are too many unknowns; I need more information.’
Atticus had recently discovered that Aurora’s father was Rowan. With limited information about Rowan, he couldn’t jump to conclusions, and he understood that everyone in the camp was a potential suspect. He decided to gather more information the next day.
Leaving Helodor behind in the alley, Atticus made his way back to his room. Along the way, he couldn’t help but think about how annoying the situation was becoming.
Atticus was no stranger to the idea that, due to his position as the heir to the family, he would face many people attempting to harm or exploit him. This was an expected part of his life.
Back on Earth, he had been a normal person. Although ten years had passed since his reincarnation, his knowledge and experience were primarily derived from books he had read since childhood. His intelligence played a significant role in helping him acquire knowledge rapidly. However, he wasn’t well-versed in dealing with situations like this.
He entered his room with a cold look on his face and muttered, “Well, nothing changes. They mess with me, I mess them up.” Regardless, Atticus had always been vengeful and always repays his enemies tenfold, no matter the circumstances.
