Chapter 1730: Awake
"Ahem..." Atticus coughed awkwardly before quickly changing the topic. "What about you?"
Anorah blinked before falling silent, her lips slowly scrunching into a small pout. A moment later, she answered softly.
"I want kids."
"...Kids?"
"Yes." A soft smile spread across her face. "At least twenty of them. Like a tiny army."
"T-twenty?" Both of Atticus’ brows shot upward.
Twenty kids...?
Even one already sounded overwhelming. Atticus immediately imagined twenty tiny versions of himself and Anorah sprinting around destroying everything in sight.
"Yes." Anorah looked at him with a slightly nervous yet expectant gaze. "Is that too much?"
From a single glance, Atticus could already tell this answer could either completely make her day... or destroy it.
The memory of holding Freya in his arms flashed through his mind. Then, Atticus smiled warmly.
"No." He answered gently. "It’s perfect."
Wind swept past them, brushing through Anorah’s hair as a soft smile slowly spread across her face. She turned back toward the horizon.
This moment... she loved every bit of it.
Anorah exhaled slowly, allowing the peaceful atmosphere to wash away the heavy weight lingering in her chest.
Then, a moment later, she added casually—
"...Thirty doesn’t sound bad either."
"T-thirty?" Atticus snapped toward her.
Anorah looked back innocently.
"Problem?"
Atticus could practically hear the threat hidden inside that single word.
"...Thirty’s perfect."
"Good."
Several moments passed quietly.
Then the atmosphere changed.
A suffocating oppressiveness swept across the land, seeping into bone and making hearts pound violently. Countless cracks raced across the flatlands below, carving deep trenches through the earth.
The ground trembled.
Again.
Then once more.
Atticus’ eyes sharpened instantly.
"They’re here."
Before Anorah could respond, both of them vanished. The next moment, they appeared in the middle of the camp.
An oppressive aura erupted from Atticus, spreading across the millions of pitched tents like a tidal wave.
Ozeroth, the others, and Zenon rushed over immediately.
"Bond?"
"What happened? Why’re you leaking aura all of a sudden?"
Ozeroth and Zenon asked with serious expressions.
"They’re here."
Expressions darkened instantly.
Zenon immediately gestured toward one of the generals, whose will exploded outward as he roared—
"PREPARE FOR BATTLE!"
The voice tore across the entire campsite. The once orderly camp instantly descended into focused chaos as countless soldiers scrambled into formation.
Atticus turned toward the Pride Queen.
"How are we moving?"
She waved her hand, causing a map of the entire region to materialize before the group.
"We’re here." She pointed toward the entrance of a mountainous region sprawled behind them. "They’re here."
Next, she pointed toward the opposite side, a vast flatland scattered with small hills, before gesturing toward both sides.
One side was covered in endless forest.
The other bordered a massive sea.
"They’ll use both sides to cut off any chance of escape. I’m anticipating the Spirit Faction here... and Nature here."
Atticus nodded immediately, understanding the logic behind it.
The Spirit Faction could traverse the sea with ease, while the endless forest was practically the Nature Faction’s home ground.
"Then we’re splitting up."
"...I’ll have to object." Zenon stepped forward with a frown. "We already decided the Chosen army won’t divide itself."
Like passing wind, Atticus ignored him completely and turned toward his people instead.
"The Pride Queen, Ozeroth, and I will face the Spirit King."
Ozerra instinctively opened her mouth to object, but a single glance from the Pride Queen silenced her immediately.
Atticus then turned toward Anorah, Azeron, Thora, Zion, and the Apexes.
"I want the rest of you to hold off the Nature King until we’re done."
Each of them nodded seriously.
"Alri—"
"Oh, don’t forget old Whisker."
Atticus froze. He turned sharply and found Whisker standing beside him, fully awake and practically radiating vigor.
Everyone stared at him in utter shock.
"Damn..." Whisker formed a mirror and stared at himself approvingly. "I somehow got even more fucking handsome. That’s actually impressive."
"You’re awake." Atticus muttered.
"Of course I am!" Whisker scoffed, proudly flexing his slender muscles. "Old Whisker was merely resting. Recuperating. Preserving this beautiful body for the decisive battle."
"Tch." Ozeroth sneered. "You were one breath away from dying, you useless bastard! Don’t act like you planned that shit!"
Though his words were harsh, there was a faint smile on at Ozeroth’s face. Clearly, he was genuinely relieved Whisker had recovered.
"Hm..." Whisker narrowed his eyes at him. "I must really be dead. There’s no way this golden peacock made it into heaven."
"You lazy fo—"
"Not now." Atticus interrupted, his gaze fixed carefully on Whisker.
Something about him had changed. His existence felt... freer. Atticus’ eyes shifted toward Whisker’s crown.
It still possessed the same nine levels he had gained from the slaughter across the First and Second Crowns. If he had truly awakened his True Will, shouldn’t he have restarted from scratch?
Unless...
’He absorbed his gathered Nature’s Will?’
Atticus quickly pushed the thought aside, deciding to leave it for later.
"Let me guess. Nature King?"
Whisker’s smile slowly turned cold.
"Of course."
Atticus pondered briefly before making his decision.
"Change of plans." Atticus turned toward the others. "Whisker and I will take the Nature King. The rest of you handle the Spirit King."
He looked toward the Pride Queen, Ozeroth, and Anorah.
"Hold him if you have to... until I get there."
Each of them nodded seriously.
"Alright." Atticus gave a single nod. "Move."
"Wait, you can’t just—"
Before Zenon could finish, Atticus and Whisker vanished instantly.
Zenon let out a frustrated breath before turning an almost pleading look toward Anorah.
"Norah, wait. You can’t seriously leave too."
Anorah gave no response. Instead, she gestured toward the others before leaving alongside them the next moment.
Grit!
"Dammit!"
Zenon gritted his teeth furiously, glaring at the spot where Atticus had stood moments earlier.
At first, he had believed he could use Anorah to get closer to Atticus. But now it seemed the opposite was true.
The reality was painfully obvious. Anorah trusted Atticus more than him... her own father.
"THEY’RE MARCHING!"
Zenon snapped his head downward.
The ground had begun trembling violently.
After one week...
...the war had finally begun.
