The Saint scoffed, as though challenged. She looked straight at him, and Atticus met her eyes.
"What is your goal?"
"To reach the peak."
"No matter what?"
"I'll claw my way up if I have to. But I'll only do what is necessary."
"And what if you consider killing me and retrieving the fragment as necessary. Will you do it?"
"It depends."
The Saint's eyes flashed cold. "On what?"
Atticus' eyes didn't so much as flicker. He matched coldness with coldness. "Are you standing in my way, or not?"
"Oh." The Saint smiled, amused. She took a step closer, and her scent almost made Atticus waver.
"You think you can handle me? Are your balls thick enough?"
"They are." Atticus smiled.
"Should we give it a try then?"
A flash, and they both vanished from the balcony, appearing in a vast, endless land.
It was a wasteland, nothing in sight for thousands of kilometers. But Atticus wasn't focused on the landscape.
