Atticus’s gaze flashed. Draktharion didn’t need to finish his words; he had already comprehended the deeper meaning and quickly formed multiple assumptions as soon as Draktharion mentioned the age of all the apexes.
‘I was sent here a year after them. Why?’
There was no way to know the correct answer, but Atticus could still glean some insights from this revelation.
‘My reincarnation wasn’t random. I was targeted from the beginning.’
From the start, Atticus had never considered himself special. In his past life, nothing stood out about him that would warrant anyone specifically wanting to reincarnate him. He had assumed it was all by chance.
But now, it was clear it wasn’t. He knew the true purpose behind their reincarnation—entertainment.
Eighteen years ago, someone or some entity had reincarnated exactly 15 individuals, each from different worlds, into Eldoralth.
Why? Atticus didn’t know. But the most baffling part was that the entire game had seemingly begun with the summoning of those 15 individuals. So why had they summoned him too, especially after an entire year had passed?
Someone had gone to great lengths to bring him here.
‘But why?’ Atticus pondered. He had always found it odd from the very beginning. Everything about his powers seemed too grand, too unexplainable.
He possessed the Primordial Elemental bloodline, which Atticus had initially assumed was connected solely to the Ravenstein family’s control over elements.
When he awakened it, he had believed that, at best, he would learn to control all the Ravenstein elements. However, he had gone beyond that. He had learned to manipulate space and now, even the spirit element.
Not only that, but his profound connection to these elements was also troubling. Compared to the other Ravensteins, his connection was far too advanced, too intricate.
‘My intelligence too,’ he thought.
This had been the first thing he had noticed upon his reincarnation. He had been smart in his past life, no doubt about that. But even as a baby, Atticus could feel how staggering his intelligence had become in this new life.
It wasn’t just about being born into a powerful family—his very mind seemed sharper, more capable. Because of this, his willpower had also been affected.
Yes, he had faced many life-and-death challenges, but that alone couldn’t account for the intensity of his will.
If it were that simple, many warriors would have developed wills far stronger than his by now.
Atticus focused his gaze on Draktharion.
‘From his shocked expression when I mentioned my past life earlier, he must have been a significant and powerful figure in his previous life,’ Atticus thought.
To confirm his suspicion, Atticus directly asked Draktharion. Despite being beaten and exhausted, the dragon surprisingly opened up, going on and on about how great and mighty he had been in his past life.
Atticus quickly had to cut him short before he could continue his rant. It felt brutal to do this to someone on their last legs, but now wasn’t the time for long stories.
‘Since they were all summoned at the same time, it’s very likely the others were also powerful figures in their past lives. There are two possible scenarios,’ Atticus reasoned.
‘This could be some sick test, a last minute challenge to see how an ordinary person would fare against monsters. Or, I was targeted and sent to this world for a particular reason. But if that’s the case, there must be something about me that warranted such attention. What could it be?’
He couldn’t know the right answer now, but the possibilities made him cautious.
As Atticus came to his conclusion, Draktharion sighed, then smiled. “I guess it’s time. It has been a pleasure fighting you, human… at least tell me your name before I go?”
“Atticus,” he replied.
Draktharion was surprised at Atticus’s immediate response but chuckled at the sight of his unchanging, cold expression.
“Atticus, huh,” Draktharion muttered, gathering all his resolve for what came next.
There was only one reason Atticus hadn’t immediately cut off Draktharion’s head—the massive implications it would bring.
Yes, it was a competition, and yes, Atticus had little choice. But the dragon race wouldn’t care about that. All that would matter was that Atticus had killed their apex.
The target on his back would be too much, and the pressure on the human domain would be enormous. That was why Atticus sought a different solution.
From the rule change, he knew that losing or giving up meant death.
So, if Draktharion willingly gave up, he would die without Atticus needing to get his hands dirty, potentially softening the aftermath.
“I give up,” Draktharion said.
For a brief moment, the world seemed to freeze. Then an intense pressure suddenly pressed down on Draktharion, as though his body was about to explode from the inside out.
He closed his eyes, a wistful smile appearing on his face as he pictured his wife and children once more.
But as the seconds passed, death didn’t come. The pain vanished, and the pressure acting on him disappeared.
‘Huh?’
Draktharion opened his eyes, confused by what was happening, only to be shocked by the scene before him.
“Human… Atticus, what are you doing?” he asked, baffled.
Atticus’s eyes glowed with an intense crimson light, his whole body engulfed in the same glow. But it wasn’t just him—Draktharion’s battered body was also wrapped in the same crimson aura.
‘Looks like it actually works…’ Atticus thought, his fists clenched. He had fully activated his will, using it to stop the world from killing Draktharion.
It was utterly draining.
Atticus hadn’t planned on doing something like this. It had been a passing thought, an idea he decided to test after seeing Draktharion’s final look of defeat—a look of deep regret.
It wasn’t just any regret; it was the kind related to family. Atticus knew that look all too well, and before he could stop himself, his body had acted on its own.
“How are you doing this?” Draktharion asked, still in disbelief. But Atticus didn’t answer. Instead, he focused entirely on maintaining the power, pushing himself to the limit.
