Atticus's Odyssey: Reincarnated Into A Playground novel Chapter 527

Chapter 527 Transitions

Those who had been observing Atticus from the very beginning would consider him to be a very simple individual. And truly, he was.

Atticus had never believed in conscious mistakes.

Your brain was perfectly functioning, you weren't unconscious, you knew exactly what you were doing.

So why then, why the hell would you call it a mistake?

It was utter bullshit. Bullshit he had no intention of entertaining.

Zephyr's screams went on deaf ears. The sound of water bubbling and the smell of meat cooking filled the space.

Despite the intense pain, only his head moved, jerking backwards and forward. An incredible amount of spittle flailed around as he kept on screaming.

His whole body was still being restrained by the searing hot water, however, he could feel every inch of the pain.

The last time Atticus had done this was on Dell, but then, he had boiled him from the outside. It went without saying that they were both truly terrible, but if one had to choose the most brutal, it would be what was currently happening to Zephyr.

The feeling of water boiling you from the inside was not pleasant, truly. However, what happened next was the cherry on top that completely intensified Zephyr's pain.

The temperature around Zephyr abruptly dropped, the air growing frigid in an instant. A dense mist materialized, swirling around him like a ghostly shroud.

The water within his body, already restricting his movements, began to freeze. His skin took on a pallid, almost translucent whiteness, as frost crept across its surface. _{fгeewebnovёl.com}

Zephyr's luminous hair, once flowing like liquid light, became rigid and firm, each strand encased in a delicate sheath of ice.

The transformation was swift and merciless; from the searing heat that had tormented him moments before, Zephyr was now plunged into a bitter, bone-chilling cold.

His muscles, already stiff from the internal water pressure, now felt like stone, immobilized by the sudden freeze.

Every breath he drew was a struggle, the cold air burning his lungs and crystallizing the moisture within. His joints, swollen and immobile, were now locked in place by the ice that encased them, turning his limbs into lifeless appendages.

The pain Zephyr felt was immense, but he couldn't even scream. His chest heaved with labored breaths, the cold air slicing through his throat and lungs like shards of glass.

Each inhale brought a sharp, stabbing pain, as if his insides were being cut apart. His heart pounded against the icy cage of his ribs, struggling to pump blood that felt sluggish and cold.

The frigid air infiltrated his bones, making them ache with a deep, marrow-deep pain that seemed to resonate through his entire being.

Even his face wasn't spared; the cold gripped his jaw, making it hard to open his mouth, while ice crystals formed on his eyelashes and brows, blurring his vision.

Atticus's expression as he gazed at Zephyr was tranquil.

Even as the intense cold suddenly melted, the temperature increasing and turning searing hot once more, his expression remained unchanged.

It felt endless and was timed to the last nanosecond.

One minute. Sixty seconds. That was the exact amount of time that would pass during each transition before they abruptly changed to icy cold or searing hot.

Zephyr had lost count of the number of times the switches happened. There was only one constant and redundant thought in his head: the counting of one to sixty.

It was only for a brief moment, just less than a second, but the switching of hot to cold or vice versa brought about a nanosecond of relief before the overwhelming pain would set in.