In the minds of many of the onlookers, the situation appeared bleak.
Arya and Freya’s Ravenblade struggled, trying to force their bodies to stand, but to no avail. They had both taken devastating hits to their chests. Blood streamed from their gritted teeth, each of them fighting through the pain.
Their eyes were fixed on their respective ladies, who were struggling for their lives, their hearts pounding. Both felt an intense shame for failing to protect them.
Arya’s hands trembled as she lifted herself off the floor. Her right leg was limp, but she didn’t care as she dragged it behind her.
The thought of Anastasia dying in front of her—it was unthinkable. She moved a few steps but soon collapsed to the ground with a loud thud, her body no longer responding despite her best efforts.
‘No, no, no, no, no.’
A scene many would never have thought possible unfolded. A Ravenblade, a ruthless assassin, was crying. Tears streamed down Arya’s face as her hand stretched forward, as if trying to reach her lady. But reality was cruel.
Elysia’s laughter echoed as she continued siphoning the life force from the duo.
The reality of the situation finally settled deep in Arya’s heart—her lady was going to die. Fear clamped down so tight that she closed her eyes, praying for a miracle.
Then it came.
The sound of two words, so cold it made the temperature plummet, reached her ears.
Her eyes flew open just in time to witness it—a blinding crimson arc cutting through the sky. It cleaved the horizon in two, bathing the entire estate in blood-red light.
‘W-what?’
Arya struggled to make sense of the situation, but she wasn’t the only one. Boman, Gideon, along with the triplets and the Obsidian trio, all paused for a moment, their gazes fixed on the sky.
Everything was happening so fast, yet the world seemed to move in slow motion.
The onlookers were confused, with Anastasia and Freya still battling for their lives. However, Elysia felt something different from the others.
The intense danger she had sensed earlier, the one that had made her panic, had returned—multiplied tenfold.
Elysia felt an overwhelming amount of killing intent directed toward her, so intense she couldn’t believe it was coming from just one person.
Elysia didn’t think—she couldn’t. Her instincts took over, driving her to use almost all the life force she’d just siphoned. Energy surged through her, burning like fire in her veins.
She released her grip on both necks, the ground imploding beneath her as she shot backward faster than thought. But just as she moved, the blinding crimson slash reached its target.
The impact was cataclysmic. The ground split apart like a hot knife slicing through butter, the force of the slash tearing through everything in its path.
Buildings crumbled, and a shockwave of energy rippled outward, obliterating everything within reach.
Smoke and dust filled the air, swallowing the battlefield in chaos.
Through the thick dust, Elysia’s heart skipped a beat as she locked eyes with a pair of glowing, blood-red irises piercing through the haze. A chill gripped her soul, shivers crawling down her spine.
‘W-what the hell…?’
Elysia couldn’t explain it. No, it shouldn’t even be possible in the first place. All that killing intent—could it really be coming from just one person?
As the dust began to clear, Elysia’s gaze landed on the source of it all.
Blood-red eyes, snow-white hair floating back in formless waves, and a face so flawlessly handsome it looked as though it had been carved by the gods themselves. He was clad in a tight black exosuit, his entire body enveloped in a palpable crimson glow.
Atticus Ravenstein.
The hearts of everyone present trembled.
There was no one who didn’t know who this boy was. Alvis had warned them all about him already, and after the capture of Alvis and the death of Ronad, the branch heads had done their research.
They all knew that the reason the tier-one families of the human domain were turning against the Ravensteins was because of this same boy.
He was just 16 years old.
And yet, he was radiating an aura so intense that many found it hard to comprehend.
He was just 16 years old.
And yet, his will was so strong and unyielding that even they felt slightly influenced by it.
He was just 16 years old.
And yet, he exuded a killing intent so overwhelming that many would have believed it to be the collective killing intent of an army.
HE WAS JUST 16 YEARS OLD.
And yet, he had just cut off the right arm of a grandmaster+ rank.
Many forgot to breathe.
Many felt like they were dreaming.
Many simply couldn’t believe their eyes.
What in the living world was happening?
The rapid sound of crimson blood hitting the floor reached Elysia’s mind, and she finally registered that she was the one whose right arm had been severed.
Being a grandmaster didn’t make her immune to pain—she felt everything, an overwhelming pain wracking her entire body.
Elysia’s face twisted with rage, intense anger erupting from her heart. She had used almost all the life force she siphoned just to escape that attack.
Regrowing her arm would take several times that amount! More wrinkles would appear on her flawless face!
Monster or not, she would make that boy pay!
Elysia completely forgot about the overwhelming killing intent directed at her and shot Atticus a vicious glare.
However, Atticus had momentarily turned his gaze away from her. He looked back, his eyes landing on the forms of Anastasia, Freya, and Arya, who were staring at him as though they had seen a ghost.
Atticus’s cold expression softened, and a warm smile spread across his face.
They couldn’t be blamed. It had been almost two years since they had last seen him, and yet he was nothing like the Atticus they remembered.
They had each taken turns raising him, but now he seemed like a completely different person.
However, even if their eyes could deceive them, their hearts could not. There was no doubt about it—it was Atticus.
Anastasia’s first instinct was to grab him and hold him tightly, but in that moment, before she could, Atticus suddenly gave them a single nod.
It was just one nod, but to the people currently on the floor, it felt as though it were an overwhelming assurance.
Leave it all to me.
Anastasia wanted to protest immediately, but she couldn’t move a single muscle. The aura currently surrounding Atticus was something hard to explain, as though it compelled her to believe that everything would truly be okay.
Water enveloped each of them, healing their wounds, as Atticus turned his gaze back towards Elysia, his aura changing.
