Atticus's Odyssey: Reincarnated Into A Playground

Chapter 650  Flow

"Follow me."

Atticus followed Cedric to the middle of the hall where a small white building was situated. He could still remember his experience inside this building; it was where he had learned the second katana art.

Upon entering, Atticus was greeted by a completely pristine white room with nothing inside.

"I'm sure you know how this goes by now. Walk to the middle and begin your training," Cedric instructed.

Atticus nodded seriously at Cedric's instructions and began walking toward the middle of the hall. The process was still fresh in his mind from the last time he trained here, and, just as before, the same thing happened.

A man that Atticus knew all too well appeared in the middle of the hall before Atticus could reach there, a katana sheathed at his left waist. It was the katana's avatar, though it wasn't radiating an aura as intense as the one seated on the throne.

The sound of a chime echoed, and suddenly, the man descended into a stance, gripping his katana's hilt tightly. In the next instant, multiple projectiles shot towards him at supersonic speed, fanning out in a 180-degree angle in front of him.

The man's katana erupted from its sheath, unleashing slash after slash at blinding speed, with multiple silver streaks filling the air. In a second, each projectile had been cut down. However, more projectiles simply shot towards him, prompting him to continue cutting them down.

Afterwards, the simulation soon stopped, and Atticus approached the center of the room, taking his position.

'Alright, looks like it's just like last time. I just have to do as the simulation did and cut down the projectiles,' Atticus thought to himself.

He heard a loud chime and instantly descended into a stance. The sound of multiple projectiles cutting through the air reached his ears, and Atticus circulated mana throughout his body in preparation.

However, just as he was about to move, the entire pristine white room turned red, and each projectile disappeared.

"What happened?" Atticus looked around, puzzled.

"You're not supposed to use mana," Cedric responded.

Hearing Cedric's response, Atticus's gaze widened before he nodded in understanding.

'He did all that without using mana?' Atticus wondered. The man's movements had been so fast and intense—practically a blur. It hadn't even occurred to him that the man hadn't utilized mana.

'Right, his katana wasn't glowing either,' Atticus realized.

Reaching this conclusion, Atticus got into a stance once again after settling down his mana. A loud chime resounded, followed by the sound of multiple projectiles cutting through the air. Just like in the simulation, they appeared in a 180-degree angle in front of him, coming from the front and two sides.

Atticus mapped out each projectile and found his first target, drawing his katana to cut it down.

However—

'What the hell!'

Atticus's shock was palpable. Despite trying his best to cut it down, his katana had only managed to slice a few inches into the round ball. What was worse, he found it difficult to withstand the force of the projectile.

Atticus quickly snapped out of his shock as the reality of the situation set in. He redirected the projectile, diverting its path slightly before moving rapidly to evade and redirect the hundreds of other projectiles.

It was a complete mess, with his movements all over the place, and Cedric couldn't help but chuckle as he watched the young monster struggle so much.

However, soon enough, Atticus's luck ran out as multiple projectiles hit him with force, and he died.

Reappearing, Atticus breathed heavily, holding his knees. "What the fuck," he muttered, hearing the sound of Cedric laughing from one side of the room.

Atticus's mouth twitched. "I'm about to get squashed by a grandmaster. Can you spare me the laughter and just tell me what I'm doing wrong?"

Cedric chuckled, "I'm about to turn to nothingness soon, and you want to take away my source of happiness?"

Atticus's expression softened slightly, becoming tinged with sadness, and he fell silent.

Cedric, still amused, continued, "You're too straightforward, child. Anyway, try to remember the simulation properly. It's all in the movements and the way he cut each projectile."

'The way he moved,' Atticus replayed the simulation in his mind, focusing on the man's movements.

'I see,'

Figuring something out, he moved and stood in the middle of the room, hand gripping his katana's hilt. A loud chime sounded, and Atticus unsheathed his katana and moved.

However, there was a significant difference this time around. Atticus's movements were gentle yet forceful. He didn't focus on speed; instead, he went with the flow.

The most crucial difference was in how he cut the projectiles. Earlier, he had simply slashed against their momentum, but just like in the simulation, he now discovered the perfect spot where the opposing force wasn't as strong—just to the side.

This was why, as soon as Atticus moved, it wasn't surprising that projectiles upon projectiles kept falling from the air.

There was no pause; more projectiles hurtled towards him, and Atticus moved swiftly, cutting each of them from the air.

Soon enough, Atticus noticed the projectiles increasing in speed and number, making it harder for him to keep up. He felt the strain as he continued for hours, and just as he thought he would collapse, another chime sounded, and the projectiles disappeared.

Atticus immediately slumped to the floor, breathing heavily. Without the use of mana, he had lost the passive recovery it usually provided.

This was why, as Atticus circulated his mana while lying on the floor, he was almost forced to let out a moan of relief. It felt so good.

This moment of peace didn't last long, and Atticus was forced to stand when he heard the loud chime again.

He moved to the middle of the room, and the rain of projectiles continued in full force.

As Atticus continued this process, he noticed a timer had appeared, marking the time he took to cut down a wave of projectiles. This led Atticus to believe that this would be how he progressed. The less time he spent, the better. n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om

And so, Atticus resolved to do just that. Days passed with this routine, and he now stood in the room, staring at the next simulation.