Atticus’s Odyssey: Reincarnated Into A Playground - Chapter 822
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Chapter 822: Impaired
Seraphina’s expression was completely serious.
It was an unusual sight. The last time she had looked this way was when she saw a 16-year-old boy form a domain, a moment as absurd as pigs growing wings and flying. Yet, it only served to highlight how serious the current situation was.
Wait. Start all over again,’ Seraphina said inwardly, seemingly speaking to herself. A strange silence followed, but Seraphina didn’t seem to mind. She knew exactly how her spirit was.
She could practically feel the judgmental stare of her spirit, but she was all too used to it.
After a few seconds, an aged voice sounded in her mind.
‘Perhaps if you focused more on developing your intellect rather than flirting with everyone, as I’ve always told you, I wouldn’t have to repeat myself.’
Seraphina’s mouth twitched, but she didn’t bother to refute. She had heard everything her spirit had said earlier, but the shock of it made her want confirmation.
‘I’ll let this matter go for now. But I suggest you listen carefully this time because I won’t be repeating myself again.’
‘Wait!’ Seraphina interrupted, feeling another judgmental stare aimed her way. She ignored it, disappearing from where she stood and reappearing in front of Atticus, who looked a little startled.
“Let’s talk,” she said curtly.
Before Atticus could respond, he found himself standing inside a private room with Seraphina.
Magnus and the other paragons had left after ensuring there was no threat. Since it was simply a spirit that Atticus had summoned, they deemed it a non issue. Rogue spirits were unheard of in history, and the fact that no one was harmed led them to table the matter for the time being.
“Did something happen?” Atticus asked, meeting Seraphina’s gaze. He instantly sensed that something was wrong. ‘Bad news?’ he wondered.
Seraphina stared at him for several moments before letting out a heavy sigh.
“There’s something you should hear,” she said finally.
A blue light radiated from Seraphina’s chest, and from it emerged a petite figure.
The spirit had a slender, ghostly form, draped in a tattered gray cloak. Her presence was calm yet commanding, and her large golden eyes held an intensity that seemed to pierce through one’s soul.
“Her name is Ismara, and she’s my spirit,” Seraphina said.
Atticus turned to Ismara, and an awkward silence ensued. ‘This is uncomfortable,’ he thought.
Ismara hovered silently in the air, her intense golden eyes fixed on him.
Atticus shifted uncomfortably and glanced at Seraphina, who shrugged and mouthed, ‘I’m sorry.’
After what felt like an eternity, Ismara finally spoke.
“You’re the one they call Atticus Ravenstein. Hmm. I honestly thought you’d be… taller.”
She floated around him slowly, speaking as she examined him.
“Your facial structure… passable. Strong jawline, decent symmetry. Nothing exceptional, though. Certainly not enough to warrant the reputation I’ve heard.”
Her gaze lowered, scanning him from head to toe.
“Physique… moderate. You’re well built, I suppose, but lacking refinement. Strength without grace is wasted effort. I’d recommend working on your posture. You stand like someone carrying the weight of the world, but not with enough dignity to make it inspiring.”
Ismara floated closer, her piercing gaze narrowing slightly.
“And your demeanor… ah, yes. Brooding. Cold. Aloof. The classic tortured soul act. I can see why some might find it intriguing, but it borders on predictable, don’t you think? Perhaps you could try smiling once in a while. Or is that too much effort?”
She paused in front of him, crossing her arms as she turned briefly toward Seraphina.
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“Considering the standards of this world, I suppose I can understand why my intellectually impaired bond here would want you to mate with her granddaughter.”
“Ismara!” Seraphina exclaimed, embarrassed.
Ismara glanced at Seraphina, rolled her eyes, and fell silent, keeping her arms crossed.
Atticus was… speechless. He genuinely didn’t know what to say. This was the first time in his life anyone had spoken to him like that, and he had no idea how to react.
Did the words hurt? They stung, a little. But at the same time, he couldn’t help but feel like laughing.
“I apologize for her behavior, sweetie. That’s just how she is,” Seraphina said, turning toward Ismara with a pointed look. “Can you just get to the point and explain why we’re here?”
Ismara shot Seraphina a sharp glance before turning back to Atticus. Clearing her throat, she addressed him.
“Anyway, listen carefully, and I hope I won’t have to repeat myself,” she began.
Atticus nodded, his expression attentive.
“The spirit you summoned is bad news. His name is Ozeroth, and he’s an enemy to every spirit in the spirit realm. He can only bring death and destruction to your land. I strongly advise you to steer clear of him.”
Hearing Ismara’s words, Atticus’s gaze didn’t change. Instead, his curiosity deepened.
“Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why is he an enemy to every spirit?”
Ismara hesitated, clearly uncomfortable. She was trying to avoid revealing too much about the spirit realm and the reasons spirits had come to Eldoralth.
Unlike Lumindra, who was a Primarch, Ismara wasn’t as highly ranked. Speaking on such matters could be considered treasonous and might spell her doom.
She hadn’t even told Seraphina the full truth. Deciding to keep her explanation vague, she finally replied, “He chose not to submit to our king.”
Atticus waited for her to elaborate, but after several moments of silence, it became clear that she had nothing more to add.
“That’s it?” Atticus asked, his brow furrowed.
“Yes. That alone constitutes treason, and because of it, he became an enemy to our king and, by extension, to all spirits under him,” Ismara explained.
Atticus was baffled, and even Ismara could see it in his expression. Her gaze narrowed slightly.
“Ozeroth is the most self centered being I’ve ever met,” she continued. “He cares only about himself. He would only hinder your growth, not help it.”
Atticus tilted his head thoughtfully. “In the entire spirit realm, is there anyone stronger than him?”
“Our king,” Ismara replied without hesitation.
Atticus frowned. “You say he’s an enemy of your king. Why doesn’t your king just take care of him?”
“Because our king cares about us and the spirit realm,” Ismara said sharply. “A battle between them could destroy everything. To protect the realm, he chose to spare him.”
Atticus listened carefully, taking in every word. But the effect of Ismara’s explanation wasn’t what she had likely hoped.
The more he heard about Ozeroth, the more Atticus wanted to bond with him.
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