Atticus's Odyssey: Reincarnated Into A Playground

Chapter 447 Trouble

Atticus's breathing still sounded labored as he thoroughly searched the corpse of the alien he had just defeated.

His whole body arched badly, and he wanted nothing more than to lay down here and do nothing. But Atticus wouldn't allow that. Not in a thousand years.

'What if we're not at the academy again?' Atticus had no idea if they were still being protected by their artifacts, and he sure as hell didn't plan on testing it on himself. There might be no more protection from real death.

He had made so many assumptions in his head already that many would call him delusional. But this whole situation was just so bizarre that he couldn't help it.

After going through the corpse for a few seconds, Atticus finally found what he was searching for.

He allowed his form to move back, sitting down on the forest floor, and gazed intently at the item in his palm.

It looked completely simple, ancient even. It was a small sack, with a small rope tying it together at the top.

If one looked closer, they would notice small intricate patterns on it that anyone knowledgeable would instantly identify as runes. A lot of them, in fact.

But Atticus didn't even need to notice these runes; his mana sensitivity was still undisturbed, and he could easily feel the mana emanating from the small sack.

'Please don't be imprinted,' Atticus hoped, his thoughts followed by him instantly channeling his mana into the sack. In the next instant—

"Yes!" Atticus was elated! He had hoped that the storage space not be imprinted like his was. The tired family of the human domain always had theirs and their descendants' space storage imprinted with its users' mana signatures.

Although anyone with at least grandmaster rank would be able to get past such defenses, it still served to avoid family possessions, especially secret arts or artifacts, from falling into random people's hands.

Every single grandmaster rank in the human domain was completely accounted for, and their short numbers would help narrow down the search.

This had been a precaution, one that only the influential took, and gazing at the clothing of the alien he had just killed, it was obvious that he was from an influential background.

Atticus went through the space storage and found quite a lot of things, useful things. But Atticus, from the very beginning, had been focused on something, and in under a second, Atticus found it.

A deep green vial suddenly appeared in his palm. But Atticus had always been cautious. Drinking an unknown substance just because he was desperate was something he wouldn't do, especially when it wasn't a life-and-death situation.

Just to be safe, Atticus poured a very small amount onto one of his fingers, his gaze focused and ready to cut it off at the base should he see any signs of poison.

Luckily, the opposite had happened. Atticus could see the wound on his finger healing at a visible pace. He quickly downed the vial the next instant, feeling a surge of relief.

'Good, it's a high-grade potion.'

Potions were classified as low, medium, and high, with the latter obviously being of the highest quality and value. The high potions were more often used by the tier ones. Although the tier twos could still afford the luxury, they usually used them more sparingly.

Atticus could feel the deep slashes on his body healing at a visible pace, the intense headache hammering his head becoming more bearable by the second.

Although his fatigue was still very much present, Atticus's body felt better, way better than before.

Atticus brought out a blue vial next, sniffing it and pouring it into an open wound in a disposable location. After seeing that it was okay, he downed the contents immediately, feeling his fatigue washing away.

It wasn't recommended to drink the same potion twice in one day unless it was very severe, or else Atticus would have loved to consume more healing and stamina recovery potions. There was a significant amount present in the space storage.

Apart from potions, Atticus also found a few high-grade weapons, artifacts, clothes, books, and an… insignia.

Atticus channeled his mana and brought out the insignia, scrutinizing it thoroughly in his hands. It looked exactly like an identity badge of some royal family.

Atticus turned his gaze down towards the body, his thoughts racing.

'Who was he?'

Atticus shook his head in the next instance. 'I don't have time for this.'

He quickly stood up and ran over to the corpses of the assailants he had killed earlier.

With swift movements, Atticus opened each of their helmets, seeing that they each were indeed aliens, with features resembling Zekaron whom he had just killed.

It went without saying that this would be Atticus's inaugural encounter with another race, an event that was supposed to be special and filled with excitement.

But currently, it wasn't even amongst the list of things in Atticus's thoughts.

Atticus also went through each of their belongings, attempting to find anything useful. He also found more space storages but of lower quality and smaller inventory than Zekaron's.

Atticus picked up their space storages plus the guns and suits of each one of them, placing them in Zekaron's space storage.

Unfortunately, he couldn't place a space storage into another, so he had simply decided to tie them at his waist.

After which, he brought out a simple robe amongst Zekaron's belongings. They were mostly filled with elaborate and luxurious clothing, but he had been lucky to find a simple one that wouldn't hinder his movements.

After a few seconds, he was dressed in a simple black robe with five sacks hanging around his waist.

Atticus also found one long sword and two short daggers amongst his belongings, fixing his problem of not having a weapon.

Seeing as he was ready, Atticus turned towards where Aurora had fallen. Just as he was about to move, he suddenly paused, thought passing through his head.

Atticus turned and approached the bodies of the men he had killed, especially Zekaron's, and put them inside one of the smaller space storages.

He had a feeling a whole world of trouble was coming.

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