A small frown appeared on Atticus’ face. Just as he had been about to kill Elomot, something within the man’s heart had reacted.

A Will Art.

If Atticus hadn’t been strong enough, it would have blasted him back.

Yet he could tell that wasn’t its true effect. He had felt it clearly, a spatial shift in the air. Slowly, his gaze fixed ahead.

The haze cleared.

Standing before Elomot was a large, broad man with an imposing stature. He was barely clothed, a thin loincloth covering his waist while leaving his massive, muscled frame exposed.

A small mustache rested beneath a face that looked as though it had been carved by the Greek gods themselves.

"F-fwada..."

The man was none other than Dunot True Mosan, the current patriarch of the Mosan family. A powerhouse

A slight frown rested on Dunot’s face. But the moment he turned and saw the battered, bloodied state of his son, an intense coldness flickered through his eyes.

"Who dares do this to my son?"

An oppressive aura poured from him, flooding the entire area.

Buildings shook, then crumbled. The entire city trembling beneath his might. Yet, Atticus’ expression barely changed.

Dunot slowly turned, fixing his glacial eyes on Atticus.

"Was it you?"

His voice came out as a growl.

Elomot was the child he valued most among all his descendants. The one he had been grooming to inherit the family when the time came. To think someone had dared reduce him to this state within their own city no less...

There was no doubt about it.

Someone was going to die today.

Unfiltered killing intent bled from him. However, as he took a proper look at Atticus, Dunot suddenly stilled.

First was the fact that this man was using Primal Will despite its impossibility. And second... the gems embedded in the crowns above Atticus’ head.

"F-five?"

Unlike before, Dunot actually stuttered.

He was a man who ruled one of the three major strongholds of the First Crown. A living legend. For him to stutter...

Yet Dunot didn’t seem to care in the slightest. Instead, only one question echoed through his mind.

Just who the hell stood before him?

Even he, a patriarch, was only at peak Level Four.

"Who are—"

Atticus stretched out his arm, cutting him off.

"Come."

Dunot vanished.

His eyes tore wide open instantly. One moment he had been standing there, and the next, Atticus’ grip had already clamped tightly around his throat.

As the grip tightened, Dunot’s eyes flashed fiercely.

"Don’t be cocky!"

His monstrous aura erupted outward, engulfing Atticus in a violent surge.

Atticus’ Will flared in response, snuffing it out as though it were nothing more than insignificant air.

Dunot paled.

"What!?"

But Atticus gave no reply.

Instead, his Will engulfed Dunot completely, ravaging his body from within. Despite himself, a piercing scream tore from his throat as overwhelming pain wracked every inch of his body.

"AAAAAGHHHHHH!"

Elomot watched the brutal scene with trembling eyes.

"N-no... fa-father..."

His father’s arrival had been his hope. Without him... how was he supposed to survive?

As the torture continued, a blinding light suddenly erupted from Dunot’s chest, blasting toward Atticus. Yet just like before, Atticus merely brushed it aside.

Instead, Dunot was blasted backward, crashing heavily beside his son. His body had been charred black, while his eyes still trembled faintly from the lingering agony.

"Hm, what’s going on here?"

Atticus fixed his eyes on the aged man now standing before Elomot and Dunot.

The man looked like a perfect replica of the two, only far older, with thick beards covering most of his face.

"G-grandfather!"

"F-father!"

Elomot and Dunot stared at the man with visible relief. To them, his arrival meant the crisis was finally over.

Tiban True Mosan’s gaze darkened the moment he saw the state of his son and grandson.

As the former patriarch, he had made certain the family would be left in capable hands. Dunot had been the greatest talent among all his siblings, reaching peak Level Four at such a young age of twelve centuries.

Just who had reduced not only him, but even his son, to such a pitiful state?

"You..." Tiban’s eyes narrowed coldly onto Atticus. "Are you responsible for this?"

His eyes ignited with golden light as he scanned Atticus from head to toe.

Primal Will and...

Tiban paused.

’Level Five?’

There was a slight shock in his eyes. Every Level Five within the First Crown could be counted on one hand.

Beyond that, each of them was an old monster who had long withdrawn from worldly affairs in pursuit of greater ascension. More importantly... every single one of them was well known.

Yet the figure before him defied all of that logic.

He was certain. This child wasn’t even a century old. And yet... there was no denying the threat he posed.

"You’ve made a terrible mistake here, child."

Tiban’s eyes flashed coldly as his aura steadily began to rise.

"I’ll show you that."

He stretched out a palm. Golden Will condensed furiously into a violently pulsing orb. The pressure radiating from it alone caused an oppressive force to seep into the bodies of everyone present.

Anorah and the others gritted their teeth just to remain standing.

This was the power of a lower Level Five. A true powerhouse of the First Crown.

Tiban fixed his glowing golden eyes on Atticus’ unmoving figure and scoffed.

"You’re dead."

The orb blasted forward, crashing into Atticus before erupting into a violent explosion that tore through the city, razing buildings and annihilating everything in its path.

Even the warriors rushing toward the scene were caught in the blast and reduced to nothingness instantly.

Tiban’s gaze remained cold as he slowly exhaled.

Level Five or not, he had poured a significant portion of his power into that attack. Not even a Reverent of equal strength could withstand it. If Atticus wasn’t dead, then he was at least grievously wounded.

The haze slowly cleared.

"!!!"

Tiban’s eyes tore wide open.

A crimson dome had formed around Atticus and the people behind him.

The attack had landed directly... yet there wasn’t even a single crack across its surface.

Tiban’s gaze was trembling.

"...You withstood it?"

How was that possible?