Atticus's Odyssey: Reincarnated Into A Playground novel Chapter 832

Chapter 832 Blame

The sound of water splashing echoed across the quiet underground world.

Elder Lorthan stared at the ripples on the spiritual lake, his expression frozen in disbelief.

He had just explained the dangers and pain that awaited Atticus in the lake, yet the boy hadn't shown the slightest hint of hesitation. It hadn't fazed him at all.

Lorthan had never seen a 17-year-old so fearless in his life. It should have been a moment to make any elder smile with pride. However, coldness filled Lorthan's face instead.

It was as though, the moment Atticus entered the lake, a switch had been flipped. Every trace of the sagely calm aura Lorthan carried vanished, replaced by an icy gaze fixed firmly on the lake.

'Such a shame,' he thought bitterly.

Atticus Ravenstein, the greatest genius humanity had ever seen. A boy foretold to raise humanity to unprecedented heights. A boy whose potential was immeasurable, destined to stand at the top.

Yet, to Lorthan, it was now all meaningless.

'This will be where he meets his end,' he thought grimly.

Lorthan had devoted his entire life to the spirits. After bonding with one, he had chosen to forsake everything to live in the underground world with them.

To him, his very existence was meant to serve them. His devotion ran that deep. This was why, upon learning that Atticus had summoned an enemy of the spirits and still intended to bond with it, he immediately saw him as an enemy.

'It can't be helped. He chose this…'

His thoughts were interrupted as the air around him suddenly shifted.

'They're here,' Lorthan realized, his gaze sharpening.

The spiritual energy in the area thickened, becoming so dense it was almost suffocating. The ground trembled faintly beneath his feet as gravity seemed to press down like an invisible weight.

In the blink of an eye, they appeared.

Dozens of figures, over thirty in number, materialized near the twisted roots of the eternal canopy.

Each one wore dark purple robes etched with intricate, ethereal patterns that glowed faintly, resembling the spirits hovering in the air.

They all exuded a suffocating aura, unmistakably grandmaster-level power. Despite the calming presence of the eternal canopy, their bloodlust was staggering, saturating the air with an almost unbearable intensity.

Each had the signature purple hair of the Starhaven bloodline, and their cold, piercing eyes locked onto Lorthan with an iciness that made the temperature plummet.

"Lorthan," a deep, resonant voice broke through the oppressive silence.

Lorthan turned sharply, his cold gaze locking onto the man who had spoken. At the center of the group stood a towering figure who was undoubtedly their leader.

'He came here himself?' Lorthan's brow furrowed in surprise. There wasn't a soul in Sector 8 who didn't know this man.

His features were sharp as a blade, his jawline angular, and his eyes radiated danger. Though he wore the same purple robes as the others, the patterns on his robes were darker, almost like veins pulsing with spiritual energy.

Veylor Starhaven, leader of the Crimson Vow.

The Crimson Vow was a notorious terrorist group within the Starhaven sector, infamous for their extremism. They worshipped the spirits as divine beings and saw themselves as their enforcers.

To them, any perceived threat to the spirits had to be eradicated without mercy. Their devotion was absolute, and their methods brutally unforgiving.