Chapter 833 Calm

Chapter 833 Calm

Darkness.

This was all Atticus could see.

Elder Lorthan had assumed that Atticus had jumped into the spiritual lake without thinking about the consequences, but he couldn't have been more wrong.

Yes, the elder had mentioned that Atticus would experience an unimaginable amount of pain, a fact that would have terrified most people. But Atticus was not like most people.

Atticus was no stranger to pain. He had endured it countless times, pain so severe that it would have broken others. However, that didn't mean he sought it out. If pain could be avoided, he would prefer it that way.

But now, things were different.

Having won a set of incredibly powerful techniques during the Nexus Event, abilities that could only be described as unfair for one person to possess, Atticus had gained something invaluable. Among these techniques was a skill from the Regenerari race that would forever change how he approached training.

...

Pain Resistance (Regenerari Race)

Effect: The user's pain threshold is elevated, making them nearly immune to distractions caused by physical discomfort or injury. They can continue fighting through severe injuries without hesitation.

...

The technique was described as a battle ability, but Atticus saw its potential beyond the battlefield. It would have been a waste to limit its use to combat alone. To Atticus, it was a tool to push himself further in training, a way to overcome the limits pain imposed.

The moment he plunged into the lake, an unbearable wave of pain engulfed his body. The spiritual energy clashed violently with the mana coursing through him, causing the mana to feel scalding hot, like molten metal searing his veins.

But Atticus didn't flinch. He immediately activated the Pain Resistance technique.

Over the weeks of mastering the abilities of various races, Atticus had uncovered something extraordinary, a revelation that explained why the different races of Eldoralth had such unique traits and powers.

They all used mana, so why could one race regenerate from a drop of blood while others couldn't? Why could some traverse dimensions while others couldn't? Why could one race absorb life force while others couldn't? n/ô/vel/b//in dot c//om

Atticus had always pondered these questions, and when he discovered the answer, it exhilarated him.

It all came down to mana signatures.

The concept wasn't entirely new to Atticus. His first encounter with mana signatures was back at the academy when he had altered the mana signature of his cloak to match that of a barrier blocking his way. Through focused effort, he had been able to phase through the barrier by perfectly mimicking its signature.

His second encounter had been during his battle with Ae'ark of the Aeonian race. The Aeonians were so attuned to mana that they could change their body's mana signature to match their opponent's, rendering most attacks ineffective.

To counter this, Atticus had rapidly altered the mana signature of his strikes, giving Ae'ark no time to adapt.

The final and most groundbreaking discovery came as Atticus explored the innate abilities of Eldoralth's races. He realized that each race possessed a unique mana signature that defined their powers.

Unlike the signatures he had manipulated in the past, these were innate, an intrinsic part of their being. Mimicking them wasn't simply difficult; it was almost impossible without a precise reference.

They weren't merging to form a new energy but were instead learning to coexist.

Although Atticus couldn't feel the pain, he instinctively knew that his body was under tremendous pressure and stress. But he also understood his body's limits better than anyone.

'I'll make it through this, but by the end of it, I might not be able to lift a finger,' he concluded.

Even as this thought crossed his mind, his concerns shifted to a new realization. Atticus had no idea what was happening outside the lake. The intense energy surrounding him had completely blocked his senses.

The thought of being left weak and vulnerable in a sector that could turn on him at any moment left him feeling uneasy.

'I can't let that happen,' he thought.

As he thought, a realization suddenly struck him:

'The elder hadn't warned me about the effects.'

While others might dismiss it, claiming that he simply forgot, Atticus wasn't one to overlook such things. In the first place, he never trusted anyone fully. A detail like that, especially in such a critical situation, couldn't simply be ignored.

'I can't take any chances,' he decided. Atticus would always choose to be cautious.

As this thought solidified, the stomp embedded on his chest suddenly throbbed. In the next instant, his exosuit enveloped his entire body.

Atticus's exosuit was nothing if not adaptable. It was designed to evolve alongside its user, it had never been solely reliant on mana. For the suit, energy was energy, and if its user could harness it, so could it.

The moment the exosuit deployed, the tingling sensation in Atticus's body disappeared entirely. The suit began utilizing the spiritual energy to mitigate the damage and strain his body was enduring.

It worked seamlessly, continuously healing every trace of damage his body sustained.

In essence, by the time the process concluded, Atticus wouldn't just be as good as new, he would be even better, with fully synchronized mana and spiritual energy.

With this assurance, Atticus let the process continue uninterrupted, and time passed like a blip.

Ultimately, it didn't take long. After exactly one hour, Atticus felt the mana in his body fully synchronize with the spiritual energy of the lake.

The moment it happened, he manipulated the water of the lake, rising gracefully from the depths to the surface.

His gaze swept across the area, landing on the figures waiting silently.

Over thirty individuals in the grandmaster ranks surrounded the lake, their auras surging like raging storms.

The pressure they exuded blanketed the surroundings, making the air feel dense and suffocating.

The ground beneath their feet cracked under the weight of their combined presence, and their killing intent locked onto Atticus like an iron vice.

The world seemed to pause. Time slowed. Even the ripples of the lake abruptly froze in place. Silence descended, deafening. The stillness almost maddening. No one spoke a single word.

However, despite the crushing weight of their combined aura pressing down on him, despite the suffocating killing intent that made the air tremble and vibrate, Atticus stood tall.

His entire being radiated an unshakable calm, an aura so composed it was terrifying in its entirety.