Atticus’s Odyssey: Reincarnated Into A Playground

The intense sound of people cheering abruptly stopped, and the entire human domain fell into a state of silence.

However, unlike their counterparts, the people of the Dragon race only roared louder.

Geysers of flames erupted upward as the multitude of volcanoes in the Dragon race's domain reacted to their excitement.

There was one thing the Dragon race of Eldoralth was known for—their pride.

They were prideful to their very bones. This was a trait they were well aware of and took very seriously.

Among the mid-level races, the Dragon race stood at the top.

In fact, if not for the overwhelming difference between the mid and superior races, they would have long since crowned themselves the overlords of Eldoralth.

Their excitement lit up their entire domain in crimson flames, but the humans remained quiet.

They all knew: the Dragon race was strong. Overwhelmingly so. Their bodies, their power—everything.

Atticus Ravenstein, this 16-year-old boy, might just show them a miracle.

The other apexes had already been paired and were ready to battle. However, Whisker von Pounce tuned out every other screen and focused on just one—Atticus's.

'There may be 15 other variables, but he's still my star actor,' Whisker smiled as he fixed his gaze on the screen.

The expressions of the paragons in the coliseum changed as each apex appeared on the screens.

Unlike the general public, they were aware of the true nature of this event: death was coming.

However, Valkarion Ignisyth, the grandfather of the Dragon race apex, and the other dragon race paragons attending the event couldn't help but let out sighs of relief.

It would take time for Eletrantron to regain control over the dimension, and once he did, the death match would be over. This meant each apex only needed to survive until that time.

All would have been lost if Draktharion, the dragon apex, had been paired with one of the superior race apexes.

Having his grandson face the human apex, one from a lower race, Valkarion couldn't help but feel relieved.

'At the very least, he will survive this round,' he thought to himself.

With that, all eyes were fixed on the screen.

The entire human domain watched in tense anticipation, as did the people of the Dragon race.

None of them would miss this for anything.

---

Atticus landed calmly on the peak of the fiery mountain, his gaze steady.

Unlike the other parts of the mountain, the summit was surprisingly simple. The ground was scorching hot, yet there was no fiery lake or geysers around—just an expansive, flat peak.

Despite the simplicity of the sight, the atmosphere was far from calm.

The tension in the air was thick and seemed to grow heavier by the second as the two figures studied each other in silence.

Their muscles were coiled like springs, and every shift in the wind, every flicker of light, was observed without fail.

Though only seconds had passed, their auras clashed invisibly, sending sparks flying through the atmosphere.

Draktharion looked like most of the Dragon race. He was massive, his humanoid form towering and muscular, covered in dark scales. His fiery eyes were slit like a predator's.

Two sharp horns curved back from his forehead, and his claws were long and razor-sharp, with his wings folded behind him.

Atticus had secured the white flag, something useless in battle. Draktharion's flag, however, remained unknown.

The battle hadn't yet begun, but the energy hovering between them was primal, the kind that promised a fight that would reshape the world around them.

Then, in a voice that rumbled the earth, the Dragon Apex, Draktharion, finally broke the silence, his eyes narrowing into fiery slits.

"Do you feel that?"

During his study days, Atticus had taken the liberty of learning each race's language. While he understood them, speaking them was another matter entirely.

Regardless, he offered no response.

Draktharion continued.

"The distant sound of volcanoes erupting. The roar of molten lava streaming down the mountainsides. The earth trembling beneath us, the intense heat in the air."

He stopped, his gaze locked on Atticus, waiting for the response that wouldn't come.

Without taking his eyes off Atticus, Draktharion slowly raised his hand.

The ground quivered, and in the distance, one of the volcanoes erupted with a violent roar, spewing molten lava into the sky.

Draktharion's hand remained raised, and then, with a snap of his fingers, the entire landscape around them erupted. One after another, volcanoes miles away detonated in violent bursts of fire, their fiery veins carving through the earth, turning the ground into a molten sea of hellfire.

"This," Draktharion's voice boomed, a crazed smile forming on his face, "is a dragon's domain!"

The domain of the Dragon race trembled as its members roared loudly into the sky, their pride palpable. Draktharion had just embodied everything they stood for: pride!

The air shimmered with unbearable heat, the ground now a chaotic battlefield of searing lava, ash swirling like a storm.

Draktharion's voice lowered.

"Human Apex. We both know what we are. But I've seen men... crushed by their own arrogance, too blind to see the truth staring back at them."

He lowered his hand, the volcanoes still churning behind him as if they obeyed only his will. His fiery slits narrowed as he spoke, each word cutting through the heavy, ash-laden air.

"Give up now."

Everyone watched with rapt attention, the humans on the edge of their seats, curious to see what Atticus would do. Would he really give up?

However, those who knew Atticus knew what his response would be: absolute silence.

Atticus stood unmoving, his eyes steady on Draktharion.

His heartbeat was slow and deliberate, matching the calm rhythm of his breath. His gaze was cold, calculating.

The earth groaned beneath their feet, but Atticus's stance remained unshaken. The heat seared the air, but he barely noticed it.

All he saw was Draktharion—his opponent, his target.

At that moment, to Atticus, everything else was just noise—beneath his feet, around him, inconsequential. His gaze embodied three heavy things:

Calm. Cold. Unyielding.

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