ATTICUS’S ODYSSEY: REINCARNATED INTO A PLAYGROUND

Scorching heat clashed with radiant purple, sending hair and flame rippling outward in a violent tide.

But then, the Dragon Paragon’s eyes widened.

He had been mid-transformation, and his body was cloaked in hardened dragon scales, denser than steel, tougher than most metals known on Eldoralth.

A dragon’s flesh was near unmatched, even among the superior races, only a few of them could rival their raw physical durability.

Yet… a shudder traveled through his bones.

‘Such strength!’

His trembling gaze snapped to Ozeroth, only to find him grinning even wider, as if the real fight hadn’t even begun.

Then came a scoff.

“Save your puny anger, who cares for something like that?” Ozeroth said with pure disdain.

And then he pushed.

A blast of force erupted, blowing the Dragon’s arms aside in a flash. He barely had time to register the shock before—

CRACK.

Ozeroth’s hammer slammed into the side of his head.

Dragon scales, scales that even paragons struggled to damage, shattered like brittle glass. The impact snapped his head sideways with abrupt force, his neck twisting violently before his massive frame followed suit, hurled through the air like a ragdoll.

The grin on Ozeroth’s face widened.

“Ah, I’ve missed this!” he bellowed, voice rumbling across the skies with elation. “There’s nothing better than the battlefield!”

But then, the sound of air tearing apart exploded behind him, bloodlust thick enough to choke the sky.

Jezeneth appeared, spear engulfed in a swirling storm of black and blood-red energy, thrusting forward with the force of a collapsing star.

But Ozeroth’s excitement only peaked.

He didn’t even turn.

His body shifted, small, precise, effortless, evading the spear by a margin so slim it was almost arrogant, like he already knew where it would land.

“Ah yes, this bitch,” he muttered with a sneer, “the one who dared to run her mouth.”

His voice turned cold, dangerous.

“We should bend the knee? I’ll show you what it means to feel regret.”

Jezeneth’s eyes widened, but it was too late.

Ozeroth dropped one hammer, and in a blink, his hand shot forward, grabbing her face in a vice-like grip.

Before she could react, the world flipped.

With a thunderous roar, Ozeroth plunged from the skies, dragging her down like a meteor. The wind screamed. The ground rushed up.

And then—

BOOM!

He slammed her head into the earth, the impact ripping open a crater, the shockwave flattening everything around for hundreds of meters.

But he wasn’t done.

Ozeroth was already on her, straddling her half-buried body, fists raised high.

And then the onslaught began.

Punch. Punch. Punch. Punch.

Each strike was a seismic event, the ground quaking, mountains trembling, cracks spiderwebbing across the terrain. Dust flew, debris scattered, the air shattered with each hit as the world groaned beneath his fury.

The battlefield thundered with chaos.

And Ozeroth?

He laughed, wild, proud, uncaring.

The other paragons that chose to steer clear away from the fight had fallen utterly silent. Not only them, the entire survivors, the recruits, the sergeants, the apexes, Zenon, were all quiet.

They were each being protected inside a dome that had been formed by Zenon, far away from the devastation that was the ongoing battle.

One would think the dome was a grave. No one spoke, not even a gasp or whisper. To the recruits, to the sergeants, what was occurring was beyond comprehension.

A recruit just like them, one they had spent one year with, was currently matching the overlords of Eldoralth.

Not just one. Not two. But four freaking Paragons. Of the superior fucking races.

The apexes didn’t know how to feel. Many of their heads spun with speed. At this point, even the protection they had from the leaders of their races had turned almost obsolete now. If Atticus could match them in strength, then what would stop him from coming after them?

But the leaders of the races had different thoughts. They had thought they only had to deal with one monster, but it was in fact two.

Two beings that were currently thrashing four of their equals.

‘He hadn’t even used his full power.’ Zenon’s eyes widened. To think he had kept someone of this strength hidden even while fighting a Zorvan colonel, it was insane.

But his eyes narrowed in the next instant. ‘What…’

He had just felt something forming in his space. As he turned, he saw them, multiple echoes of Atticus, glowing with blue luminosity, slipping stealthily through the crowd like wraiths.

‘What’s happening?’ Zenon wondered, and then his eyes followed their trajectory.

‘The humans?’

His gaze flicked upward, scanning the other paragons. ‘They haven’t noticed anything.’

They were far too engrossed in the chaos of the battle to sense the shift. In fact, the only reason Zenon had caught on was because everyone was under his protection, and therefore, under his aura.

‘He’s going after his close ones…’ Zenon realized, and he said nothing. He simply turned his head back to the battlefield, pretending like nothing had happened.

He understood what Atticus was doing. And he allowed it.

While all eyes were fixed on destruction, Atticus was planning their escape.

Meanwhile, the skies had turned to chaos, firestorms tearing through clouds, purple and crimson light dancing like warring titans. Ash and smoke formed walls in the sky.

Ozeroth’s barrage of punches and booming laughter had finally made Jezeneth snap.

Her Crimson Blood Army surged to life, rising from the blood-soaked earth, millions of constructs forged from the blood of the dead, screaming toward Ozeroth like a crimson tsunami.

But he only kept punching and laughing, as if nothing else existed.

As they neared, his eyes flickered, and he grinned wider, locking gazes with Jezeneth.

“Blood Construct,” he said, voice reverberating across the battlefield.

And then, the remnants of blood scattered across the field surged toward him, forming into millions of radiant purple constructs, mirror images of Ozeroth, each grinning, each wielding a hammer.

Jezeneth’s eyes widened.

“Attack,” Ozeroth commanded.

Blood construct clashed with blood construct, the sky erupting into a cacophony of explosions, crimson and purple tearing each other apart in an unending storm.

Ozeroth’s punches didn’t stop, they intensified, thunderous and vicious, each one sending tremors across the realm.

And then, a roar shook the heavens.

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