Atticus was a beacon of light in the world. It seemed as though he alone stood within it.
The pillar of light snapped back into him, converging on his katana. The hilt turned scalding hot. A slow wave of energy traced along his arm, sizzling through his body and etching itself into him until even one side of his face was engulfed. The sleeve it touched turned to ash.
The pain subsided, leaving behind a purple tattoo emblazoned across the length of his arm and the right side of his face.
The markings pulsed. His entire being seemed to pulse with them. With that feeling, every single pressure he felt from Solvath vanished. No matter how much he searched, it was no longer in his mind. However, its power had never felt so profound.
Intense pain still roared through him, mixed with overwhelming power and inexplicable changes occurring to his being, yet Atticus' eyes didn't even so much as tremble as he stared at the Spirit King ahead.
He saw nothing else.
