Chapter 543 Touched

The number of thoughts flashing in Atticus's head at this moment was staggering. It was so numerous that many wouldn't even try to count them.

And yet, despite the staggering number of scenarios playing in his head, at the end of the day, only a single one remained.

As soon as it popped up, Atticus held on to it as though it were his last hope. The thought was immediately brought forward, scrutinized thoroughly, bit by bit and inch by inch until what was once a small thought at the far back of his mind blossomed into something remarkable.

Atticus had absolutely no idea what the boy in front of him was. Magnus had made it a point to ensure he had no knowledge about his opponent. He didn't even know the boy's race!

He did not know their behavior, their culture, how they lived, how they reacted to things. Nor did he know their structure of government and how they were led. Most importantly, Atticus had no idea about their abilities.

'Always expect the unexpected' Magnus's words couldn't help but pop into his head despite the dire situation.

What did Magnus mean? The meaning of those words was incredibly simple, so simple that Atticus had long since known.

He shouldn't rely on pre-made information despite their truths. He should take everything with a grain of salt, and whenever he was in battle, he should only act based on information that he had seen, felt, and confirmed.

Atticus had analyzed, analyzed, and analyzed: why were his attacks phasing through the boy's body as though it were an illusion? Why were some of his attacks hitting his hard fist? Was his body made of mist? Why were none of his elements working, not even space?

There were many possibilities, and Atticus could say with certainty that he had gone through most, if not all, of them.

Atticus had tuned in completely to his sense of feel and tried to sense every single nuance when his hand phased through. He had focused his every attention on the boy as his attack phased through him.

It took him a minute—a time that sounded short but, considering the current situation, was truly incredibly long.

Atticus had felt it.

Each movement was fluid yet precise, his body undulating with the grace of a dancer and the power of a storm surge.

Ae'ark's attacks met nothing but unfeeling air, their fury crashing harmlessly around Atticus as he weaved and twirled, an embodiment of water's fluidity.

Atticus's eyes, focused and calm, became icy as he closed the distance, appearing inches away from Ae'ark with finesse.

The crimson aura enveloping his right arm exploded, his fist rocketing forward with intense momentum.

For the first time since the battle began, Ae'ark's face showed slight emotion, his gaze narrowing in slight shock. His arm shot upward to block the blow, but it was too late.

The punch connected with Ae'ark's left cheek like a meteor crashing into the earth, the impact thunderous and cataclysmic.

A shockwave rippled outward, shattering the air around them as Ae'ark's head snapped violently to the side. The sheer force sent him hurtling backward with blinding speed, his body becoming a blur as it smashed onto the hard platform for many meters.

The ground quaked beneath the might of the blow, dust and rubble exploding into the air in his wake.

Blood sprayed from Ae'ark's mouth, his expression turning firm as he performed a mid-air spin, skidding to an abrupt stop, all fours on the hard ground.

The whole area went silent, but that was the last thing every single one of the humans watching the battle wanted to do.

They each wanted nothing more than to shout and cheer at the top of their lungs.

The apexes of the other races were untouchable.

This small fact had been ingrained in every single one of the humans who had encountered the people of the other races before.

They were so overwhelmingly powerful compared to their peers that even dreaming of touching a strand of hair on their body was impossible.