Atticus’s Odyssey: Reincarnated Into A Playground - Chapter 983

Chapter 983: Friend
Atticus’s eyes were sharp as he stared at the faceless machine standing like a death sentence in front of him.

‘The data of previous katana wielders…’

Atticus was a bit curious about that part. After the fourth trial of the katana, he had absorbed his spirit guide following his overwhelming victory against him.

Because of this, he had gained everything the spirit had achieved in his lifetime, including his skills with the katana.

They had been expansive and eye-opening. But now, Atticus was curious, would this thing show him something new?

Viktor reached the edge of the island before bringing out a tab-like device. As he turned it on, a live image of Atticus and the robot suddenly appeared.

“Begin.”

At his words, the air around the large island seemed to change, a still breeze blowing.

The still breeze swept through the clearing, carrying with it the dry leaves that had gathered across the field.

For a moment, the space between Atticus and the faceless robot felt suspended in time.

The leaves drifted, caught between them like a thin veil, a fragile, fleeting barrier.

The moment the last leaf passed by, Atticus’s vision emptied.

The robot disappeared.

A sharp whistle cut through the air.

Like a phantom strike, a blade descended towards Atticus.

Air sliced apart, a dangerous intent saturating the space, pressing down with the weight of a seasoned executioner.

Yet, Atticus remained impassive.

His katana stayed sheathed. His form was rigid, straight, unshaken. Then—

He moved.

A slight blur. A mere shift.

His body swayed to the side, graceful, unhurried, as though he were merely stepping out of the way of an oncoming breeze.

The blade crashed down.

BOOOOM!

The shockwave split the earth, a jagged line ripping through the ground for dozens of meters. Debris launched skyward.

Atticus barely spared it a glance.

‘A normal swing, but with technique… stronger than a standard strike.’

His eyes flickered. He watched, not just the attack, but the subtle details within it.

The foot positioning. The weight distribution. The angle of descent.

The machine had twisted its entire body into the strike, shifting its center of gravity at the last moment for maximum force.

‘Refined. But simple.’

The machine didn’t pause.

It pivoted off its planted foot, its katana snapping upward in a controlled arc, aiming straight for his ribs.

But Atticus merely leaned back.

The blade skimmed past his chest, missing him by a breath.

Yet, before the swing could complete, the robot’s wrist rotated, reversing the motion, the katana flicking back toward his throat in a whiplash-like movement.

‘A feint within a reversal. Impressive.’

But not enough.

Atticus’s hand rose, two fingers pressing against the blade’s flat side, stopping its momentum completely.

With a gentle push, he redirected it away before stepping back.

The machine adjusted instantly.

Its movements had no hesitation. No unnecessary motion. Every attack seamlessly flowed into the next.

It shifted into a new stance the blade lowered, held at an angled guard, its tip barely pointed toward Atticus.

A fast-draw technique.

Then—

It vanished again.

A gust of wind exploded outward, but Atticus had already read it.

‘Iaido-style. Utilizing draw speed for instant strikes.’ Atticus instantly identified. He personally hadn’t studied all these styles, but the spirit he absorbed had.

He didn’t move.

Not until the faintest glint of steel appeared in the corner of his vision.

The robot unsheathed the blade, a single razor-thin line of silver cutting through the air faster than sound.

Atticus sidestepped.

The katana sang past his ear, grazing a few strands of his white hair.

But the robot had already accounted for his evasion.

The second slash came before the first had even finished, an upward arc aiming to bisect him from hip to shoulder.

Atticus twisted mid-step, his body lowering as the edge sliced past where his chest had been.

The ground behind him split apart, as though an invisible scythe had just reaped through it.

‘The data of countless masters, huh…’ Atticus’s mind worked quickly. The robot’s movements were simple yet elite. Every single one of its motions was grounded in technique, and Atticus could finally understand its purpose.

‘No extra arts or flashy powers, only the katana.’

It was a weapon training lesson. Its purpose was to improve the combat proficiency and efficiency at which the recruits used their weapons.

The machine shifted stances again, changing styles instantly.

This time, it adopted a fluid, almost formless posture.

Atticus’s eyes glinted.

“Hmm…”

A style that didn’t follow any strict form.

An adaptive stance.

It wasn’t just using recorded swordplay, it was also adjusting to him.

Atticus’s movements were simple, faint, and evasive. He didn’t unsheathe his katana, nor did he try to counter any attack.

He simply evaded and observed. Their movements were nothing but blurs, yet the aftermath of their battle was cataclysmic.

The entire island quaked.

Fissures split open, jagged and relentless, snaking across the terrain like cracks on shattered glass.

Yet, despite this destruction, Atticus remained untouched.

His movements were simple. Subtle. Efficient.

He never retaliated.

Never clashed blades.

Never even unsheathed his katana.

He merely weaved through the chaos, his form a ghostly blur, his gaze sharp, watching. Understanding.

It was a scene that sent a jolt of shock through Drill Sergeant Viktor.

‘What?…’ He was baffled.

This training robot had been created by the best minds of the alliance and was programmed to mimic the best of the best that Eldoralth had ever had to offer.

It wasn’t designed to just throw out attacks, it was made to adapt to anything, utilizing the experience of masters.

Atticus was, without a doubt, talented and powerful for his age, but what Viktor believed the child would lack, what anyone would believe, was experience.

Compared to the robot, Atticus should have been an infant facing a thousand-year-old being.

And yet, it was the robot that was being played.

‘Where did all of this experience come from?’

Atticus moved as though he was a seasoned soldier, elite and knowing.

It appeared as though he was the one teaching the robot a lesson.

‘One week…’ Viktor repeated in his head.

This had been his assumption earlier, but now, the result was obvious.

Blades whistled through the air, each strike sharper, faster, more refined.

It was using everything, precise footwork, calculated feints, unpredictable transitions, a culmination of centuries of expertise, compressed into a single, faceless warrior.

And yet, it hit nothing.

Atticus suddenly sidestepped a barrage of rapid strikes, his gaze sharpening.

‘I guess this is it.’ He felt like the robot had nothing else to teach.

Then, finally, he moved.

A single blow.

His fist smashed into the robot’s chest.

BOOM!

The machine flew back, skidding across the hard ground, its impact shattering the earth beneath it.

It lifted its head, its faceless form expressionless, yet the air changed.

Because now, Atticus reached for his katana.

His thumb gently pushed the blade from its sheath, just slightly.

The air trembled.

And then—

A flash.

A streak of light.

The robot remained still.

For a moment, it looked as though nothing had happened.

Then, it fell apart.

Silent. Seamless. Absolute.

The island fell silent.

‘The katana arts remains the best,’ Atticus concluded, gazing at the pieces of the faceless robot with indifference. He didn’t appear to have done anything.

‘I told you it was a waste of time.’

He sighed as he heard Ozeroth’s words.

‘I know. Don’t worry, I’ll speed-run the rest of the tests so he’ll let us train alone.’

Just as Atticus was about to call for Viktor, his gaze sharpened as he sensed a presence approaching the island.

Turning to the skies, Atticus’s gaze landed on the figure of a man hovering above with an excited smile.

He was clad in the midnight blue uniform of the military and bore all the features of the Evolari race.

He clapped, a sound so loud it resounded across the island.

“Spectacular! Your battle instinct and observational capabilities are exceptional. General Atticus Ravenstein, you have my praise.”

Atticus stared at the man with a narrowed gaze. The man’s aura enveloped the entire island.

A paragon.

‘A strong one.’

Atticus maintained his silence, causing the man’s smile to widen.

“My apologies, I didn’t introduce myself.” He lowered himself to the ground, landing gently.

“My name is Colonel Zenon, and I am in charge of the military camp.”

“…”

Atticus still didn’t say anything, only tilting his head slightly, unmoved. He didn’t sense any ill intent from this man, so he maintained his calm aura.

However, he still wondered just what the Evolari wanted with him. He couldn’t imagine himself having any business with this man.

Zenon’s fingers brushed against his uniform as he let out a low chuckle.

“You know,” he said, looking around, “that mountain you just destroyed….”

“It was a monument. Every generation of recruits was tested on that mountain. It stood as proof of their endurance, their willpower, their ranking.”

He turned his gaze back to Atticus.

“And yet, in all our history, never once has a recruit destroyed it.”

Zenon took a slow step forward, hands behind his back.

“So tell me, General Atticus Ravenstein…”

His voice dipped slightly.

“Why?”

Atticus’s mismatched eyes remained calm as he responded.

“To send a message.”

He tilted his head slightly.

“Did you receive it?”

For a moment, there was only silence.

Then—

Zenon laughed.

Loud.

It echoed across the island as if he had just heard the most entertaining thing in the world.

“Received it? Oh, I received it very well.”

He smiled even wider, completely amused.

“You’re not just a brute-force anomaly, are you? You’re something else entirely.”

His gaze sharpened, intrigued.

“Now, let me be serious for a moment.”

His aura calmed, but his expression remained intense.

“I find you… very interesting.”

He took another step forward, studying Atticus.

“You’re an oddity.”

“An unmatched talent.”

“And your mind…” His smile deepened.

“Now that is spectacular. Curious. Dangerous.”

Then, he extended a hand.

“General Atticus Ravenstein, I’d like to be your friend.”

His golden eyes gleamed.

“What do you say?”