"Manifest."

His irises split between white and gold. As the king’s massive hammer plummeted, Atticus erupted.

The force slammed into the king and hurled him back. He regained his footing and immediately looked ahead.

A massive flaming silhouette clawed into the heavens. The temperature skyrocketed, the ground across the wasteland fusing into glass. Then the enormous figure rapidly shrank.

The king’s eyes narrowed grimly.

The haze around Atticus gradually cleared, revealing his new form. Whitish flames burned across one half of his body, golden flames across the other.

The sheer power radiating from him froze every soul present.

A faint intrigued smile touched the Pride Queen’s lips. Freya’s eyes shone like twin suns. This... this was Atticus at full power.

Behind them, the queen’s guards went rigid. To think the child they had once looked down upon possessed such terrifying strength. Many slowly turned toward Unive, who trembled subtly. Now they understood.

The others stared at Atticus with varying emotions. Yet none could deny the awe flickering within their eyes.

"You... you can use Manifest?"

The king’s eyes trembled. Manifest was a power centered around the kings and queens of the Second Crown.

Monsters who had spent millennia refining themselves through endless battle and meditation. It was definitely not something a boy barely over a century old should possess.

And even more frightening... that control. This was not newly awakened power.

The king grit his teeth, his armor blazing brighter.

"This changes noth—"

A silver blade filled his vision.

A shield flashed before him. Atticus’ katana tore straight through it, but the brief delay gave the king enough time to tilt his head aside. The blade tore past him.

Blood trickled down his cheek. The king’s eyes narrowed. He hadn’t even seen the attack.

A thin sword flashed into his grasp as he lunged forward and thrust with all his might.

But Atticus vanished.

The blade pierced empty air.

The king’s eyes darted rapidly, searching.

’Behind me.’

He spun instantly and attacked. Blade met blade in a flash of roaring light and force. White and gold clashing violently, their eyes locked midair.

Then they vanished.

Flashes of white and gold erupted across the wasteland. The king’s armor radiated brilliantly, weapons continuously cycling through his grasp as he attacked from every direction.

Yet Atticus had become a phantom. Whitish flames engulfed his body entirely now. No longer blade and shield. Only blade. His speed soared beyond anything he had displayed before.

Clashing.

Clashing.

Clashing.

Every collision unleashed violent force that drowned the wasteland in suffocating pressure.

No one moved. Not because they didn’t want to... but because the pressure pouring from the battle rooted them in place.

Seconds passed. The wasteland became ruin. Massive craters scarred the earth, yet neither stopped. They surged into the heavens, colliding endlessly until the skies themselves were engulfed in white and gold.

Through the chaos, the king grit his teeth.

’I can’t keep this up.’

His manifestation granted him an enormous arsenal of ancient weapons, but not an infinite one. He had intended to overwhelm Atticus through sheer volume, yet he was burning through his arsenal at a terrifying rate.

’And besides...’

Constantly clashing against Atticus’ will... it was affecting his own. Corroding it. Gradually weakening it.

The king’s expression paled.

Was he... going to lose?

Blade collided with blade in another violent burst of light. Yet this time, shockingly, the king’s weapon held. His eyes narrowed. What changed?

Then Atticus’ fist filled his vision.

’He let g—!’

BOOM!

The punch crashed into his face, snapping his head back. For a brief moment, his body hung suspended in the air...

Then he tore downward across the sky.

BOOM!

He crashed into the wasteland in a violent explosion that sent choking dust and debris billowing.

The king slowly touched his face. His hand came away slick with golden blood.

His teeth clenched. Pain radiated through every part of him, yet he could not stay down. He could not lose.

His will blazed as he darted aside. A streak of white crashed into where he had stood moments earlier.

The king’s gaze briefly sharpened on the whitish figure of Atticus.

Then Atticus vanished.

The king barely had time to turn before a sweeping kick slammed into him. He tore back, skipping violently across the ruined ground.

His vision swam. His brain ricocheted inside his skull like a pinball as he struggled to regain control.

His sight had barely begun clearing when another strike slammed into his midsection. The king folded at the waist before launching up violently.

Another blow crashed into the side of his face.

Then another.

Then another.

He shot across the wasteland from one end to the other as countless attacks hammered into him relentlessly.

Eventually, a final kick sent him crashing into the ruined earth.

As the haze gradually cleared, the king’s battered form became visible. Blood poured from his swollen face, dripping onto the fractured ground below.

Atticus landed several meters away, his gaze calm.

The king slowly turned, stretching an arm desperately toward his people as he dragged himself across the ground.

"H-he’s... a-a monster..."

The people of Ether Kingdom stared with darkened faces.

This... this was their king. Their ruler. Their supreme existence. Reduced to this.

Eyes gradually turned furious. Hands moved toward weapons.

Then froze.

Atticus wasn’t even looking at them. It was as though he had never acknowledged their existence at all. Yet the bloodlust rolling off him pinned them in place.

No one moved.

"A-attack..." the king trembled. "I-it’s an order..."

Step.

Step.

Step.

Under the suffocating silence blanketing the battlefield, Atticus calmly approached.

"Y-you... a-are you deaf?! I-I said fu-fucking attack! N-now!"

Silence answered him.

As Atticus drew closer, the king slowly turned, staring up at him with an ashen expression.

Atticus’ eyes were calm. Still. Like silent lakes.

"Y-you win..." the king whispered weakly. "I- I forfeit... j-just... spare m—"

A silver flash cut through the air.

In the oppressive silence, the king’s severed head fell.