The world was engulfed in a radiant gold.
An unending number of golden beams swallowed the skies, raining down upon the land. In the midst of this chaos, Atticus was a blur.
His perception had spread across the entire battlefield, mapping out every single attack with absolute clarity.
He weaved through them, flickering through the storm of light before appearing before the High Judicator in an instant.
"You…!"
His earlier blow had shattered the aged man's mask, revealing a face scarred and deformed, matted with thick golden blood.
His expression twisted with shock as Atticus drove his katana forward in an absolute thrust.
The High Judicator's pupils shrank. He gritted his bloodied teeth and wrenched his head to the side, the blade grazing past his cheek by the smallest margin.
"Touch him."
The words had barely left Atticus' lips when his fist crashed into the High Judicator's face.
