"Seeing you use a forbidden technique leaves a bad taste in my mouth, so much potential burnt in one go," Jiang Shao remarked with a dark smile. Atticus could feel the oppressive presence of Listrea's king closing in, and he knew that he had little time left. "But since you are at the point of death, I guess I can't really fault you."Atticus had long abandoned his sword, for it had proven useless against Jiang Shao's overwhelming power. Body cultivators like Jiang Shao were always a pain to fight, and the Listrea's king had proven to be at a level that was borderline devilish. Atticus assumed a fighting stance as he raised his hands, preparing for a fight he knew he couldn't win."You really think you have a chance now?" Jiang Shao taunted. "Sorry to burst your bubble, kiddo, but I would still end you even if you could enhance your cultivation from what it currently is."But Atticus had other plans. In the face of certain death, he unleashed a technique rarely used in his repertoire
As Atticus stormed through the palace hallways, his blood-soaked appearance drew horrified gasps from anyone who crossed his path. His crimson-stained sword, gleaming with a murderous aura, seemed poised for violence. His determination to confront Emperor Ling Tian knew no bounds.Moving with a murderous aura, his aim was the throne room, along the way he stumbled upon a palace maid, her trembling hands carrying a tray of silverware. "Clang!"The clattering sound of falling dishes echoed through the corridor as her wide eyes locked onto Atticus, frozen with shock and fear. The scene before her was a nightmare - a battle-worn warrior, soaked in blood, holding a menacing sword.Atticus, despite his inner turmoil and the bloodlust his sword emanated, couldn't bear to harm an innocent soul. With a stern but not unkind voice, he demanded, "Where's the king?"The maid's lips quivered, and she pointed a trembling hand down the hallway toward the throne room. Her relief was palpable as Attic
Streams of light flowed along a bright pool, which was ring-shaped, and in each millisecond, a light would divert to the middle of the pool ring. If one looked closely, it would be seen that each light was like an ember that lacked a definite form as they flowed along this cosmic stream. The stream was known as the pool of reincarnation, or by some, the circle of Samara.In the peaceful stream where life was constantly created and renewed, where the embers which represented souls went on their way to a new world with a clean slate and no past memories.A particular soul within the stream showed erratic movement as it seemed to be fighting the flow of the reincarnation stream and constantly colliding with other souls."Riiiip!!"A large smoky hand with claws ripped space and made a large tear. This hand dipped into the stream and grabbed this erratic soul, which turned out to be Atticus's.In a swift motion, the hand pulled out Atticus's soul into the crack, and the space tear mended.
"He's awake!""Atticus! Can you hear me?""Don't shake him around so much, you silly girl!"Atticus heard different feminine voices call out around him. Slowly, he opened his eyes and was met with three ladies standing over him, their deep blue eyes as clear as the ocean."Where in the heavens am I?" Atticus muttered under his breath as he tried to sit up on the bed."Ah~, I don't think you should move around too much!" Liu Meilin exclaimed as she held Atticus's arm in support."Argh! Why does everything hurt?" Atticus felt a sharp pain at his lower ribs. He looked around the room, which had a girlish aesthetic. The walls were painted in shades of lavender, and the bed he lay on bore intricate and pretty floral patterns that resembled the vases of flowers placed at the corners of the room. But amid all this beauty, the three ladies at his bedside stood out.Atticus glanced down at himself, wrapped in several layers of bandages still hinting at bloodstains. Wait! Wasn't he supposed to b
Stats"Name: Atticus BloodhoundBone age: 18 years oldCultivation level: Essence Gathering (8th level)Bloodline: Abyssal Inferno (locked) Unknown ??? Unknown ???Physique: Chaos Immortal (locked) Titan Inferno (locked)Legacy: Mark of Amsodeus Unknown ????Atticus scrutinized his status, which clearly displayed his attributes, but he couldn't help but wonder about the question marks. "Uhh, why are some of these things unknown?" Atticus inquired of the system.[Host doesn't have the proper clearance to view this information, as it might distract you from your path. The system also has limited capabilities to identify some attributes. The stronger you become, the clearer it will all become.]So, it essentially boiled down to becoming stronger, which was Atticus's primary goal anyway. "Do you have a name?" Atticus asked.[I am just known as the Reaper System.]"Well, from now on, I'll refer to you as Rhea, and you can call me Atticus. 'Host' feels a bit odd," Atticus suggested.[Not
Earning points just from people's emotions seemed like an easy way to earn anything. Atticus smiled, just thinking about all the mayhem he would cause. He had no love for anyone in this sect, except maybe the three sisters: Lei Meihua, Lei Meilin, and Lei Meixiu. They were the daughters of one of the sect's inner court Elders, Lei Wei. Even though he wasn't related to any of them, they still treated him better than any of his siblings ever did. His feelings towards them were one of deep appreciation.The memories of Atticus's present life seemed to be influencing his emotions, but he didn't think much of it. After all, this life was still his life. So, the appreciation he felt towards the three sisters was as real as emotions go. Besides, they were among the only ones who had spoken up for him when he got bullied, and he would always remember this fact.The three sisters were all talented inner court disciples, so the cultivation and influential distance between them was massive. The
The grand hall of the Bloodhound Sect was a sight to behold. Enormous crimson banners adorned with golden dragons hung from the high ceilings, casting a warm, fiery glow upon the gathered disciples. Elaborate tapestries depicting legendary battles and celestial landscapes adorned the walls, adding to the aura of majesty.Atticus, dressed in his finest Sect robes, entered the hall with a mix of excitement and apprehension. He could see his fellow outer sect disciples already assembled, their haughty expressions and condescending glances cutting through the festive atmosphere. Atticus had always been an outsider among them, and his recent injuries had only given them more reason to belittle him.The banquet was also a chance for disciples to flaunt their achievements, and Atticus had none to speak of. He had a weak cultivation base, no favor from any of the elders, and certainly no notable contributions to the Sect. He was an anomaly, a stain on the reputation of the outer sect, and the
" I will referee the spar, and not to waste time, each winner of a spar will be challenged. If no challenges are made, they will be directly crowned the winner," Outer Court Elder Liang Chen explained as he prepared to oversee the sparring matches. This event was primarily focused on the outer court disciples, and it was only proper that Elder Liang Chen took charge."This is a friendly spar, so death isn't allowed, and if this rule is broken, severe punishment awaits. The first to bleed or go unconscious loses; surrendering also means a loss," Liang Chen further clarified the rules as he addressed the eager outer disciples.The first match was quickly decided, as two random Essence Gathering disciples stepped forward. Lu Xian, a disciple known for his control over wind techniques, faced off against Chen Wei, who specialized in earth-based martial arts.The fight was fierce and fast-paced. Lu Xian utilized his wind affinity to move with incredible speed, launching swift and unpredicta
As Atticus left the underground ring, the cheers and bloodthirsty roars of the crowd still echoed in his ears. His steps were steady, his expression calm, but beneath the surface, his body thrummed with a strange energy. The soul essence of the Bone Crusher, the life force of his defeated opponent, lingered within him, fueling his every step. The system was doing its work, absorbing the essence and converting it into raw power. His mind was flooded with the sensation of strength—a heavy, suffocating weight that both thrilled and disturbed him. The Reaper Points tally flashed in his vision, now at a staggering 50,000."All that from one fight," Atticus muttered to himself as he crossed through the dark, winding corridors. The weight of the negative emotions he had absorbed—the fear, the hatred, the malice of the crowd and the Bone Crusher—pressed down on him like a suffocating cloak. It had fueled his victory, his current profit. It was a dark, addictive power, one that came at the co
The next day came by with a flash and tonight was the night his request would be answered. He spent the days leading up to this moment in a haze of fights, each victory further solidifying his dominance in the Bloodfist Arena. But it wasn’t enough. The thrill of victory, once intoxicating, had dulled. He craved more—something darker, more dangerous. He needed it...he needed to kill.That desire led him here, to the bowels of the Bloodfist Arena, where Grimlock had agreed to take him to the underground ring. The hidden arena was a myth whispered among fighters—a place where death was certain, but the rewards were even greater.As the evening began, Grimlock appeared in the training hall, his face grim and set as always. "You ready, kid?" he asked, his voice rough with experience.Atticus wiped the sweat from his brow and gave a curt nod. "Lead the way."Without another word, Grimlock motioned for Atticus to follow. They descended into the depths of the arena, passing through dimly lit
Atticus could barely feel the thrum of his pulse through the haze of exhaustion as he emerged from the arena. The demon’s death had bought him the Reaper Points he needed, but it had also left him with a gnawing emptiness. The shadows of the arena’s blood-soaked ground seemed to cling to him as he made his way through the labyrinthine corridors to Grimlock’s office.The arena manager’s quarters were a stark contrast to the brutal spectacle of the arena. Lined with opulent furnishings and trinkets from across the realms, the room was a testament to Grimlock’s status. It was here that Atticus found him, hunched over a desk cluttered with papers and gambling receipts.“Grimlock,” Atticus began, his voice steady despite the turmoil within.Grimlock looked up, his eyes narrowing. “Atticus. You look like hell. But that's the point uhn. Gunning for more fights?”“Actually,” Atticus said, leaning against the doorframe, “I’m here to talk about something similar.”Grimlock’s interest piqued. He
Atticus stood alone in his quarters, the heavy silence pressing in around him. His thoughts churned as the system’s cold voice echoed in his mind. 'Two choices. Both deadly.'Facing Xar'gath, a 'Nascent Soul-level demon', was as good as a death sentence. The demon lord’s power was unrivaled in this realm, and Atticus knew he wasn’t strong enough to take him on. But the alternative was just as dangerous. The **Gate of Oblivion**—a forbidden technique that could tear open space itself, allowing him to escape. Yet the system’s demand for more death, more souls, was a price Atticus wasn’t sure he could pay.His chest felt tight as the weight of the decision bore down on him. The system was relentless, pushing him to act. But what would be left of him after? His chaos meridian was already fragile, weakened by the demonic qi that coursed through him. If he used the Reaper System too much, if he harvested too many souls, he risked losing control—risked losing everythingBut he couldn’t stay
Days turned into weeks, each one bleeding into the next as Atticus fought battle after battle in the Blood Fist Arena. Every day, the same routine: wake, fight, survive. The dim corridors and oppressive heat had become his world, and the echoes of the roaring crowd were a constant reminder of his captivity. For Atticus, time had lost all meaning, every fight just another step in a seemingly endless cycle of violence.Each day felt heavier, his muscles aching more as the constant combat began to take its toll. But it wasn’t just his body that suffered—the stagnant energy in his cultivation gnawed at him. He was stuck, unable to break through to the next realm, and the weight of his situation began to settle in like an immovable burden.Weeks had passed since he last thought of his purpose, of the Reaper System and the mission that had brought him here. His days had become a haze of blood and battle, and his nights were haunted by restless dreams of a life he barely remembered. It was a
Atticus returned to the arena lodge with Kraul's words still echoing in his mind. 'I will just have to find an alternative I guess'Tomorrow's fight loomed ahead, but his thoughts were consumed by the plan Kraul had laid out. Allowing Xar'gath to breach the veil and invade his world was a prospect that gnawed at him, yet he knew he had to stay focused. His mind swirled with conflicting emotions as he entered the lodge. The familiar scent of sweat, blood, and metal filled his senses, grounding him in the reality of the moment. The arena was where he had honed his skills, where he had survived against all odds. But now, it felt like a distraction from the larger conflict, a cruel reminder that his true battle lay far beyond these walls.A few fellow fighters nodded in acknowledgment as he passed, their respect for him evident. He had earned his place among them through sheer dominance in the arena, his reputation growing with each victory. But there was no camaraderie here, only a sha
As night fell over the Bloodfist Arena, Atticus felt a tension building within him. The day had been grueling, with hours spent preparing for tomorrow's fight, but his thoughts were elsewhere. He couldn't shake the feeling that something pivotal was about to happen, something that would change the course of his journey in this cursed realm. As the shadows deepened, he heard a familiar rustling outside his quarters. Before he could react, Vex slipped into the room like a wraith. The wiry man’s sharp eyes glinted in the dim light, his usual cautious demeanor even more pronounced."It’s time," Vex whispered, his voice barely audible over the sounds of the arena. "The meeting's happening tonight. We need to leave now."Atticus nodded, already prepared. He had been expecting this, though he hadn’t anticipated the urgency in Vex’s voice. They left the arena under the cover of darkness, navigating the winding streets of the demon city with practiced ease. The tension in the air was palpabl
Atticus pressed onward, the towering monolith before him radiating an ominous energy. As he approached, the pressure around him intensified, like invisible hands gripping at his very essence, trying to squeeze the life from him. He gritted his teeth, every step becoming harder as the weight on his soul grew unbearable.When he reached the base of the monolith, a deep vibration coursed through the ground, and the ancient runes etched into the stone glowed a fierce crimson. Without warning, a pulse of energy shot out from the monolith, slamming into Atticus and sending him staggering backward.His breath came in ragged gasps as he fought to remain on his feet. The pressure was no longer just physical—it was attacking his soul, probing for weaknesses, for any crack in his resolve. His vision blurred, and his knees buckled as the crushing force intensified, threatening to tear his spirit apart.But Atticus was no stranger to pain. Gritting his teeth, he forced himself upright, defying the
The air was heavy with anticipation as Atticus stepped into the heart of the forest, the shadows deepening around him as if the very trees were conspiring to trap him. The memory of the voice still echoed in his mind, a grim reminder that Haven was far from finished with him. He knew that another trial awaited, one that would test the very core of his being.As he walked, the forest seemed to close in around him, the trees twisting and gnarling into unnatural shapes. The path beneath his feet became uneven, roots curling up to trip him, forcing him to remain vigilant with every step. The melody in his mind had grown softer, a distant hum that was barely perceptible over the rustle of leaves and the occasional creak of branches.Ahead, the trees parted to reveal a narrow pathway, lined with stones that glowed faintly in the dim light. There was something deliberate about the path, as if it had been placed there for him, guiding him deeper into the heart of Haven. He hesitated for a mom