Chapter 1361: Realization

"Your father won’t be happy about this," Janem said, chuckling. "He could even go as far as cutting you into pieces to sell."

Niacin glared at his cousin, but couldn’t deny there was truth in his words. The Collector, his father and head of House Aureline, wouldn’t take it lightly if he jeopardized their chances. The man was as brutal as he was shrewd.

But... something in him told Niacin this god was not one to become an enemy of. An instinct that had never failed him before. He didn’t want to ignore that feeling.

"We play it neutral," Niacin finally said, eyes firm. "We don’t openly help him, but we don’t become his enemies either."

"Sounds like a pussy move," Janem chuckled.

"We become anything as long as it benefits us."

"And your father?"

Niacin shrugged. "Doesn’t have to know anything. For now."

Janem gave him a look that screamed this is a mistake, but exhaled and raised his arms in resignation. "You’re the boss."

Niacin wasn’t just the overseer of this branch of the Gilded Debt. He oversaw all their branches in the willess world. He was basically, his boss.

"Speaking of puss," Janem suddenly grinned. "I seem to remember you promising me some."

"After this game." Niacin clicked his tongue.

"Hot damn." Janem stood and walked over to the screen, eyes glued to the woman standing across from Atticus. "Who the hell is she? She’s crazy hot..."

"She’s his opponent. And also another great talent I found. Now shut up, we’re about to begin."

Though Janem kept quiet, his eyes never left the woman. He didn’t even seem to care about Atticus.

Suddenly, a knock resounded on the door, followed by a figure bursting in. Niacin narrowed his eyes at his subordinate.

"We have a problem, Great Overseer." The man bowed.

"What happened?"

"The Willguard is almost upon us."

Niacin’s expression shifted. How did they find out?

"Yikes." Janem winced. "Looks like we have to call it, huh? Shit, it was about to get good too." He had already begun walking out when he caught sight of Niacin’s serious expression.

"Ah, shit." Janem cursed. He had known his cousin too long not to recognize this look.

"You’re about to do something stupid."

Niacin gave him a look. "It’s just one clash. I’m curious. We’ll clear out as soon as it’s over."

Despite the deep scowl on Janem’s face, Niacin ignored it and approached the screen.

...

"Welcome."

The familiar voice momentarily pulled Atticus out of his thoughts.

’It’s that man. Niacin.’ Atticus realized.

"Can I take it," Niacin’s voice reverberated across the room, "that your presence here means you’ve accepted the rules?"

Both nodded.

"Good." Niacin’s tone deepened. "The rules are simple. One clash. Whoever is forced back, loses. Whoever stands, wins. Begin."

Atticus erupted into a wave of searing crimson before the last word dropped. And he didn’t have to focus to realize that his opponent hadn’t wasted even a single moment.

A wave of overwhelming yellow rose from her shrouded form.

’Light.’ Atticus realized.

For a moment, it illuminated the entire space, dwarfing even Atticus’ crimson glow.

Then, they moved.

Crimson and yellow slammed into one another, the impact shaking the air. Pressure roared outward in violent waves, tearing through the endless space. Light drowned everything, half crimson, half yellow, searing into the eyes of all who watched.

The two forces ground against each other, neither yielding, the center where they met a seething mix of crimson and yellow light.

But while Niacin and the others marveled at the clash, Atticus was undergoing something else entirely.

’What... what is this?’

He had been right, she was strong, undoubtedly strong. And her will was a perfect reflection of that. A true will.

But that wasn’t what consumed his focus. The moment they clashed, Atticus felt something he had never felt before. Something beyond him. Something... unreal. It was as if something within him had just awoken.

Atticus’ vision blurred, then darkened.

’Did I lose consciousness?’

He appeared in endless darkness. Nothingness, stretching as far as he could see.

The darkness receded as fast as it came, and Atticus witnessed an unfathomable bang that shattered the void.

He saw light. Endless, searing light that devoured the dark. From it, six radiant lights erupted into being, vast, boundless.

They each let out beams that converged on one point, then another bang rocked the universe. In the wake of the blinding light, galaxies bloomed, worlds spun from dust, oceans foamed, skies split, and in the torrent of creation, life stirred.

The six radiant lights stood above it all, watching the newborn expanse like a mother would a child. Each was different, yet together they were everything.

Then, just as quickly, the scene changed.

Atticus watched, without warning, as the five lights turned on the sixth that glowed blinding purple, brighter than the rest.

Beams of searing light tore from the five, converging on the sixth with crushing force. The purple light resisted, but eventually it fell.

Its fragments scattered, falling across all of creation.

The scene narrowed on one shard tearing into a planet. It landed in the middle of a vast courtyard, glowing faintly against the stone.

A young boy training there stopped, lowering his wooden blade.

Atticus couldn’t help but notice the uncanny resemblance. Except the boy looked every bit a prince.

’It’s me.’ Atticus realized. He somehow knew.

Drawn by the shard, the boy walked forward and reached out. The moment he touched it, the shard dissolved and vanished into his body.

A moment later a regal man burst into the courtyard, his steps heavy, his face pale as he stared at his son.

One of the guards behind him whispered:

"God of Man... the Primordial Stars will not allow it. They’ll kill him."

The man’s eyes darkened.

"I will not allow him to be killed."

The vision shifted once more. The courtyard dissolved, and Atticus found himself as a baby, gazing up at a woman whose face he could never forget. His Earth mother.

She smiled through tears, her hand brushing his cheek.

"My beautiful boy."

As Atticus reached out, the vision faded away, and he returned to the present.

He was still clashing with his opponent.

Atticus barely noticed the wet streaks on his face when the realization slammed into him.

’She’s also a Marked.’