ATTICUS’S ODYSSEY: REINCARNATED INTO A PLAYGROUND

Carius and the army of Grandmasters shot toward the banquet building, just as multiple streaks of light converged around the Obsidian Order Paragons that hovered calmly in the air like horsemen of the apocalypse, their gazes impassive, cold, unmoved as they waited.

The first streak reached them, stopping at a significant distance.

Colonel Zenon.

Throughout all the times Atticus had seen the Evolari, he had been calm, jovial, filled with warmth and easy smiles.

But now, there was not a single shred of a smile on Zenon’s face.

There was no welcoming aura.

His expression had hardened, and his figure radiated so much killing intent that it bled into the heavens like an endless storm.

‘How…’

Shock. Disbelief. Confusion.

Every single emotion that said “this is impossible” surged through him.

None of them hid it.

On the open skin of the opposing Paragons, the insignia of the Obsidian Order glowed faintly, and their deranged eyes said the rest.

Multiple things shook Zenon to his core.

The first:

This was the Alliance Military Camp, the most secure location in all of Eldoralth. A dimensional space forged by the combined power of Paragons across the world.

And yet, not one. Not two.

But a freaking army of Grandmasters and Paragons had infiltrated?

How in the living world…?

And among those Paragons, his eyes caught two figures that stunned him even more.

One of them, Jesten.

An elder of the Evolari race.

One of their strongest. A beacon of their power. A pillar of their legacy.

And yet, he now stared at Zenon with a twisted, deranged smile. No remorse. No hesitation. No sanity.

The others were of similar strength, Paragons from other races. But it seemed they had always been working for the Obsidian Order all along.

And then, the last thing, the one that made Zenon’s soul freeze.

Standing at the center… was a Zorvan.

Not just any Zorvan.

‘A colonel…’ From its power alone, Zenon recognized the rank.

‘Shit…’

The Zorvan military hierarchy was vastly different from theirs. Because for them, a Colonel was already one of the highest-ranking officers, just beneath a General.

A Colonel’s strength rivaled the leaders of the Alliance races.

How in the hell did a Zorvan infiltrate the Alliance?

They were screwed.

More streaks of light arrived, stopping beside Zenon.

Each of them radiated the unmistakable aura of a Paragon. Precautions that had been kept hidden in case of any unexpected event. They were veteran Paragons, aged warriors from all corners of Eldoralth, who had now revealed themselves.

With their arrival, the number of Alliance Paragons reached sixteen, each one accounting for each race.

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Yet there was no joy in Zenon’s heart.

Only dread.

One of the Alliance Paragons turned toward him, eyes wide in disbelief.

“Zenon! How is this possible?!”

They all stared at the Obsidian Paragons, especially the Zorvan, with trembling gazes.

Zenon’s voice was cold.

“Why don’t you ask them?”

It wasn’t meant as sarcasm. It wasn’t even an answer.

His face alone showed the gravity of the situation. Even he didn’t know what was happening.

All attempts to communicate with the outside world had already failed. It was like an unseen force was suppressing everything.

Their gazes sharpened. The tension rose to unimaginable heights.

They outnumbered the Obsidian Order. But none of them were smiling.

The future of Eldoralth, their Apexes, their next generation, were below them.

And an all-out war among Paragons was about to begin.

Far below, they could feel the army of Grandmasters charging toward the banquet.

Chaos and carnage were imminent.

One of the Alliance Paragons finally snapped.

“You fiends! Do you even know where you are? This is the Alliance Military Camp! You—”

But he was cut off by a deep, rumbling vibration that silenced the air.

The Zorvan spoke.

Its voice was flat, mechanical, and cold, detached from any emotion, like a programmed executioner.

“I am Colonel Xal’zereth. I have come here for a mission. You are all obstacles to this mission. I understand you are not here by choice. So I offer you an alternative…”

“Kill yourselves. Now.”

Its voice rumbled like metal grinding against metal, unnatural and terrifying.

At that moment, the auras of the Obsidian Order Paragons exploded outward, drowning the sky in a suffocating weight.

The expressions of the Alliance Paragons darkened.

Just then, Zenon’s voice boomed.

“Warriors of Eldoralth!!”

His voice thundered through the skies, reaching every floating island, every building, every soldier.

“We are under attack by the Obsidian Order! All attempts to reach the outside world have failed!

“An army of Grandmasters is attacking the main island as we speak! But we will not fall! We are the defenders of this world! We stand at the gate between peace and annihilation!”

“Every one of you was born for this moment. If you run, you die. If you hide, you die. But if you fight, then at least you fall with your head held high! Let them feel the strength of Eldoralth!”

“Sergeants, protect our future!”

“Recruits, ARM YOURSELVES! FIGHT FOR YOUR WORLD!”

His voice roared across the skies, blasting through every floating island.

In the banquet hall, the music stopped. Eyes narrowed. The Apexes and Sergeants immediately turned cold.

Across the entire camp, recruits rushed from their buildings, some gripping their weapons, others donning their battle gear.

The years of simulations had forged their minds, and now it was time to put it to use, however possible.

Sergeants sprinted toward airships, boarding alongside the volunteer recruits.

Armored vessels burst from hangars. Defensive systems activated.

Cannons turned. Mana turrets lit up.

A hail of energy rained toward Carius and the Grandmaster army, light flashing across the sky in blinding radiance.

The battle had begun.

Sergeants and recruits converged from all sides, racing toward the main island to intercept the Grandmaster army.

Through it all, the Obsidian Order Paragons didn’t move.

Yet, their auras thundered louder than ever before.

And then:

“Attack,” Xal’zereth said.

Just one word. Cold. Final.

The expressions of the Alliance Paragons shifted violently.

Auras exploded.

Speed ignited.

And in the next instant, a clash erupted, so intense that it birthed a shockwave powerful enough to shake the heavens.

The skies tore.

The main island trembled.

The battle for the military training camp had begun.

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