The tension in the hall was intense.
The Vampyros paragon, Jezenet, had dropped all pretense and spoken directly. From her words, there was no mistaking it—this was not a request but an order.
The lightning crackling around Atticus grew fiercer, though he had no control over it. Seraphina and Thorne, seated to the left and right of Magnus, turned their heads sharply toward him.
“Be calm, Magnus,” Seraphina’s serene voice echoed in his mind, but nothing seemed to change as his aura continued to build.
Thorne cursed inwardly. If Magnus started a fight here, he would have no choice but to join the madman. He understood what Seraphina was trying to do and could only hope it worked.
Azakarn cleared his throat, breaking the silence in the hall.
“I think what Paragon Jezenet is trying to say is, think about the bigger picture. We have resources that could benefit you, and it’s to your own advantage. Don’t you want to see your potential fully realized?”
“Will you sign a mana contract that guarantees my life and freedom?”
Azakarn’s expression froze.
A mana contract…
Even to the superior races, a mana contract was absolute. Once signed, nothing could break it.
Azakarn’s smile strained, and his voice took on a sharper edge. “You’re making it seem as if our intentions are malicious. We’re all on the same side, Apex Atticus.” It was clear he didn’t like where this conversation was heading.
“Yes, you’re absolutely right, Paragon Azakarn. But I want you to consider things from my perspective. No matter how much you try to sugarcoat it, our races are far from friendly.”
“You might hold certain views about the human race, but I, a human, defeated your apex. I, a human, won the Verietega Nexus.” Atticus gestured to Azakarn and Youn, instantly feeling cold glares from both Youn and Carius. Yet he ignored them and continued.
“You claim to see change in me, so sign a mana contract that guarantees my safety and that I won’t be forced or coerced into anything against my will. I will participate in the training and and fulfill my duties.”
The expressions of many in the hall shifted. Jezenet’s face grew colder, as did Azakarn’s.
However, a small smile appeared on the face of the Evolari paragon, Jenera Flux.
‘What a smart child,’ she thought.
She watched the frowns that had formed on both Jezenet and Azakarn’s faces. Atticus had used their own tactics against them. His words targeted both.
Jezenet had pushed the “fulfill your duties” approach, and Azakarn had done the same, though in a less direct manner.
While their words sounded harsh, it didn’t change the fact that they were right. They were fighting a war, and everyone was expected to contribute. There was no argument there. Atticus had recognized and acknowledged this.
So instead of arguing or refusing outright, he had devised a way forward— he was seeking assurance for his safety.
‘I thought only Kynara was special, but it seems this human apex is something else,’ Jenera pondered.
The fact that someone as young as Atticus had taken such a firm stand was shocking.
“Pathetic,” came a low, disdainful scoff from Youn, the Nullite paragon.
“Expecting us to bend to a child’s terms… it’s like asking a predator to submit to its prey.”
“I believe this one is a waste of time. He’d be more useful as a test subject for the Nullite.”
The air grew electrified as a powerful killing intent flooded the hall. The lightning surrounding Atticus crackled with even greater intensity, and in the next instant, Magnus appeared in front of Atticus, his aura cold and imposing.
Magnus didn’t say anything; his presence alone made his position clear—an unmistakable, irrefutable no. Youn’s gaze remained steady, but his aura turned colder.
“No,”
Just as Youn was about to respond, his expression flickered with surprise as Karn suddenly stepped forward, standing beside Atticus and looking directly at Youn.
“What are you doing?” Youn’s voice was icy.
“Test subject… no,” Karn said simply.
“What makes you think you have a voice in this? You couldn’t even defeat a human.” Though the Nullite typically showed little emotion, Youn’s disgust was evident.
But Karn didn’t respond further. He had made his choice. Along with Magnus, the other human paragons had also positioned themselves in front of Atticus. Thorne and Luminous had little choice, but Seraphina’s decision to stand by him spoke volumes.
“Now, now, I don’t believe we need to take things this far,” Azrakan attempted to diffuse the situation. The air in the hall had become so heavy that even the apexes standing on the sides were feeling it. The gazes of Magnus, Seraphina, Thorne, and, surprisingly, Luminous were cold.
For Luminous, while he truly had no choice but to protect Atticus, the fact that they were disregarded, with them wanting to take one of theirs without consideration for their views, was infuriating. He hated being seen as weak.
The other paragons had not paid attention to Youn’s words. They understood what he wanted.
Atticus had a unique will, a strength that was a bane to the Nullite race. It was clear that Youn either wanted to eliminate Atticus or, as he’d said, use him as a test subject to neutralize this weakness.
“Looks like you’ve all made your choice,”
The bloodthirsty aura surrounding Jezenet grew more intense, increasing with each passing second. Her eyes had turned blood-red, and fangs began to sprout from her mouth. She was on the verge of erupting.
Azrakan could clearly see this, but it was the last thing he wanted. If a fight broke out, the Dimensari would be obligated to protect the humans due to the mana contract—it would be a loss for them.
“Let’s all calm down, shall we? I understand where you’re coming from, Apex Atticus, but I ask that you see things from our perspective. The humans are at the bottom of the power scale for a reason. We’re concerned that your talent may not be fully utilized and developed. We need more game-changers among the ranks, and we believe your abilities would be best cultivated here. I’d advise you to reconsider and think this through—”
“My answer remains unchanged,” Atticus interrupted without hesitation, not even waiting for him to finish.
At this point, it was pointless.
