Atticus's Odyssey: Reincarnated Into A Playground - Chapter 1493 Two Streaks
Chapter 1493 Two Streaks
“Where’s Merek?”
Atticus fixed his eyes on the Redflame god before him. He was a slender man with shifty eyes. His hair was spiky, his attire brazen. His battered face showed signs of age, but Atticus got the feel of an old man desperately trying to look younger, and failing splendidly.
To his question, the man scoffed, then smirked, revealing his toothless mouth. Anorah’s earlier blow had shattered his chin and teeth.
“Save your breath… I am a Redflame. Our fire does not bow! Never! I am a Redflame! I am a Redflame!”
‘Of course.’
Atticus wasn’t surprised. The Redflames were too pompous. Too proud. Making one bow or surrender was to attempt the impossible. A Viscount Redflame, even more so.
Atticus glanced at Anorah, who simply shrugged.
“It doesn’t look like he plans to talk. We should kill him.”
He didn’t miss the killing intent laced in her voice. Atticus gave her a long stare. The more time he spent with this woman, the more he learned about her.
He had no idea there was this vengeful side to her. But he was one to talk. Atticus knew exactly how far he could go when it came to revenge. He turned back to the Redflame, who was still chanting their doctrine.
‘We need information.’
“Oh, I don’t know…” Atticus murmured, tilting his head slightly. “I’ve been thinking about something lately. When a body burns, the first thing to go is the skin. But that’s too easy, don’t you think?” Anorah furrowed her brows, clearly confused. But he gave her a knowing look. ‘Trust me.’
Anorah nodded. “Yes. You’re right, it’s too easy.” “Right? I thought so too.” Atticus nodded, then fixed his eyes on the red flame who was still chanting.
“But if I start small, really small, I can make the fire worthwhile.”
He raised a finger.
“I can heat a single cell. Just one. Warm it until it pops. You wouldn’t even feel it. Well, not at first at least. But then I’d do the next one. And the next. And the next. Eventually, the nerves will catch on, and you’ll feel a slight tingle. A slow crawl. Like insects moving under your skin.”
Atticus made a casual gesture, as if describing weather.
“After about a thousand cells, the tingling becomes itching. After five thousand, the itching becomes burning. But the real pain starts around ten thousand. That’s when your body begins to panic. You’ll feel your own flesh trying to tear itself off just to escape the sensation.”
The Redflame’s chanting wavered as the temperature began to climb.
“Then I move inward. Your tongue first. I’ve always wondered how much ache it takes before someone bites it off voluntarily. Then the soft tissue behind your eyes. Your nose… your ears… the lining of your throat…”
His voice lowered.
“And after that, your bones.”
The Redflame stiffened.
“See, marrow wouldn’t burn like flesh. It’ll boil. Slowly. The pressure builds inside your skeleton, and you’ll feel your own bones vibrate as if something inside is trying to claw its way out. But the funny thing is, it never does. It just cooks.”
Atticus’ expression didn’t change. But that clearly made it worse. The Redflame had fallen into a tense silence, but he didn’t stop.
“And while that’s happening… I can stop the heat from reaching your heart. I wouldn’t want you dying early. You’ll stay very alive. Very aware. Feeling everything. Even when your joints soften. Even when your ribs start bending like melted wax.”
He stared straight at the Redflame god.
“By the time I’m done, you won’t remember your useless doctrine. You won’t remember your name. Just pain. Endless, suffocating pain.”
The Redflame stared silently at Atticus, instinctively wiping the beads of sweat forming on his forehead.
“I-I am a r-redflame…”
The next chant came with much hesitation, and Atticus nodded.
“That you are,” he said softly, turning towards Anorah. “What do you think?” “If he still doesn’t talk, we can move to the other parts of him you haven’t mentioned yet.” “You’re right. Organs, nerves, veins…” The Redflame gulped, gritting his gums. Sweat trailed down his temple as the temperature inside Atticus’ cocoon began to climb.
“I-I am a r-redflame…”
This one came even more fragmented than before. Atticus could see the tremble in the man’s eyes. Anyone could have a strong will, but even the mightiest wavered before a painful end.
‘Let’s hope he breaks.’
Atticus raised his hand slowly, and the Redflame’s body began to sizzle. He trembled violently, but gritted his gums and stared at Atticus with pure hatred.
“I-i am a R-Redflame! I-I will not bend! I will not bow! I am eternal!”
Atticus inwardly sighed.
‘He didn’t break.’
They were more stubborn than he’d thought.
‘There’s no use keeping him alive anymore. We’ve wasted too much time.’
He looked at Anorah, who instantly understood. She glared at the Redflame and nodded.
With a thought, Atticus’ boiling will engulfed the man. The Redflame thrashed in pure agony.
“There’s no hope for you! You’re going to die!” he screamed, glaring at Atticus. “The entire Redflame army is coming for you! You think you can mess with the Redflames!? You’ll die a horrible death! Viscount Merek will…he will… ark!”
Atticus’ will surged into his mouth and other orifices, burning him from the inside out until he was reduced to drifting ash.
“What do you think?” Atticus turned to Anorah.
“We still got something useful.”
Atticus nodded. The Redflame hadn’t meant to be helpful, but he revealed something important.
‘The entire Redflame army.’
That meant every single Redflame in the Viscount layer was coming for them. Atticus’ eyes grew cold.
“Their numbers?”
“Too many to count.”
“Does the resistance stand a chance?”
“What do you think?”
Anorah’s expression had hardened. And Atticus could see she was calculating too.
‘The numbers wouldn’t be a problem if it weren’t for him…’
An army of ants was still an army of ants. A bigger foot could crush them. But a gigantic head at the front changed everything.
‘I need more power.’
He looked at Anorah. The only gods he could absorb right now were the resistance gods. To Atticus, it was a necessary action. If it were up to him, he would slaughter the resistance gods and absorb their wills to protect his loved ones.
‘But will she accept that?’
He’d seen how she reacted to the deaths of her people. She’d never accept it. It didn’t feel right killing her people just to protect his own. If they were strangers, yes. But Anorah wasn’t a stranger.
‘I can’t do that to her. I need another way.’
Atticus exhaled.
“We should head back first and rally the resistance. We need to prepare.”
Anorah nodded. But just before they shot into the sky, a feeling gripped him.
‘Who…?’
His will churned suddenly, as if something familiar was calling to him.
His gaze snapped toward the forest, where two streaks of glow shot toward them.
“Wait.” He raised his hand, stopping Anorah from drawing her sword.
“Friend of yours?” she asked.
“Yes.”
She nodded.
As the streaks grew closer, Atticus confirmed his suspicion.
He smiled.
“Where the hell have you both been…”
The lights reached them, revealing a tall man with crimson eyes and azure hair, grinning. Hovering beside him was a small furry creature, white as snow.
“Noctis. Whisker.”
