Atticus gazed at Cedric, his attention fixed on every word coming from the elder’s mouth.
Cedric continued speaking, “Although it wasn’t the sole reason, 90% of us perished while attempting to cross the boundary between Grandmaster and Paragon. The remaining few met their end due to various other causes.”
Atticus furrowed his brow, his voice tinged with suppressed anger, “So does this mean there has never been a Paragon rank wielder of the life weapon before?”
Cedric affirmed with a nod, “Correct, there has never been a wielder who reached Paragon rank in the history of our family.”
Atticus’s internal frustration was palpable. So there was a chance he could die at Grandmaster rank and never reach the Paragon rank? Why was he just hearing of this now? Why didn’t his father tell him? Then what exactly has he been working hard for?
He clenched his fist, his anger simmering.
Cedric, recognizing Atticus’s turmoil, sighed and offered an explanation,
“I’m sorry, kid, but it was part of the rules. Everytime this happens, this same being comes back and change the memories of everyone to forget the real cause of death. Also, the life weapon is an entity of its own, storing a fragment of our souls upon our deaths. I am but a mere tenant here, bound by these rules. I was the last wielder before you, and I was prohibited from speaking with you until you gained the weapon’s acknowledgment. And once that bond was formed, it was unchangeable. I hope you can understand.”
It took Atticus a few seconds to regain his composure. He inhaled deeply, reminding himself not to lose his cool, ‘Calm down, Atticus. You’re not one to lose your composure like this.’ His attempts at calming down seemed to work, as his anger subsided a bit.
‘Let’s take it one step at a time,’
Atticus then turned to Cedric and unleashed a barrage of questions, “Who’s the entity? Why do you all follow its instructions? What exactly caused the deaths of the previous wielders when trying to reach Paragon? You were also brought into this world? Were all the past wielders reincarnated? Why were we brought here?”
Each question held immense importance. Even if Cedric could only answer one, it would still be valuable to him.
Cedric gave a wry smile and shook his head in response. .
Atticus immediately knew what he meant, “I’m not allowed to know for now… Okay then, I want to start learning the second art,” Atticus swiftly requested.
He wasn’t one to waste time on things he couldn’t do anything to affect. Although he was pissed at everything and truly wanted answers, there was still important matters at hand he had to focus on; surviving.
He was determined to make the most of the time he had.
Cedric couldn’t help but applaud how quick Atticus regained his composure. The first time he found out about all this, it took him over 3 hours to get over the fact and calm down.
He wore a pleased smile as he nodded and said, “Follow me,” beckoning Atticus to follow him. Together, they retraced their steps.
After walking for a while, the surroundings transformed, and Atticus found himself standing in a vast hall.
At the center of the hall stood a small white building. As Atticus turned to look behind him, he saw a man seated on a throne at an elevated platform with grand, sweeping stairs leading up to it.
Atticus immediately recognized the man, it was the same man he had previously fought when seeking to gain the katana.
As Atticus observed the man, Cedric began to explain, “That man is the life weapon’s Avatar. It listens to no one and follows only the will of the life weapon.”
Atticus nodded, contemplating his next move. He inquired, “So, do I just fight him like the last time?” He turned to Cedric for guidance.
Cedric let out a brief chuckle and responded, “You could, but I don’t recommend it. The second art can’t be compared to the first. The best chance you have at learning it is to train it step by step,” he advised.
Atticus turned his gaze back to the man on the throne and inquired, “Can I just fight him?” Atticus felt he knew himself best. He believed that learning from battle had been the most effective learning method for him.
With his enhanced perception, he felt he could grasp the second art by observing the man’s movements, just as he had done with the first.
Cedric shook his head with a smile, ‘This should be fun,’ he thought.
“Suit yourself,” he replied before stepping aside, gesturing for Atticus to approach the man.
As Atticus walked toward the steps leading up to the throne, he gaze upwards at the man and declared, “I challenge you.”
The man’s eyes snapped open, and a frigid gaze seemed to immobilize Atticus in his tracks. With regal composure, the man slowly rose from his throne, an ascent fit for a king.
In an almost ethereal move, he gracefully descended from the elevated platform, landing soundlessly a few meters behind Atticus. His attire billowed in the still air, but his expression remained unchanged.
Atticus swiftly turned to face the man. ‘He looks stronger than before,’ he thought. He noticed the aura emanating from the man was more than what he felt the first time he faced him, way way more.
The man simply stood there, his face expressionless. It was obvious Atticus would have to be the one to make the first move.
Atticus took a deep breath, closing his eyes, then his eyes snapped open, in an instant, he reached out for the katana at his left waist.
Just as his hand touched the hilt, a surreal sensation overcame him. It was as if he had lost connection to his arms, and he watched, bewildered, as his vision began to tilt and slide inexplicably.
Much like a plantain peeling from its skin, his hands slid away from his body, and before he could grasp the situation, his legs and head followed suit.
As Atticus struggled to regain control, he sensed his consciousness slipping away. The last thing he heard was the enigmatic words of the man, spoken with an air of nonchalance,
“Katana Series, 2nd Art:
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Endless Blade.
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