Atticus’s Odyssey: Reincarnated Into A Playground

Chapter 1764: Worry

"My poor baby... how much of this have you been carrying all by yourself?"

Her voice was soft. Unbearably sad. He didn’t understand. He’d anticipated many reactions. Anger. Disbelief. He’d even expected some of them to look at him with horror.

Yet Anastasia and Grace also stepped forward, silently joining the embrace.

Attimax and Avalon had both turned away, fists clenched and jaws tight. Aurora and Caldor couldn’t meet his eyes. Ember simply stared at him, tears flowing freely down her face. So did his grandmother, Freya. Holding her close, Magnus looked at Atticus with an indescribably complicated expression.

His sister Freya wasn’t sure how to react, only staring at him in silence. Ozeroth’s eyes were dark, yet he never looked away. Even Whisker watched him with a wry smile.

Even Anorah, who had been avoiding his gaze all this while, now had tears streaming down her face.

All of them. His family. They all looked at him with the same emotion.

Sadness.

Atticus was confused. Why were they sad? He’d worked hard. So hard. After so many twists and turns, after so much pain, he’d finally achieved his goal.

Now they could all live in peace. It was something to celebrate. It should be. So why were they sad?

The next few hours were strange to Atticus. His mothers refused to leave his side. Aurora and Ember quietly joined them, sitting beside him without saying much. Whisker tried to lighten the mood with jokes. At one point, he’d become so desperate that he intentionally tripped over his own feet.

Yet no one laughed.

Atticus still didn’t understand. They constantly asked him how he felt. Whether he was okay. Why wouldn’t he be okay? He’d made peace with himself a long time ago. Right now, he’d merely achieved his goal.

That was all.

The meeting ended on a sour note, at least from Atticus’ perspective. His family’s reaction left him more confused than anything else. He refused to let anyone follow him, yet Anorah insisted. After everything he’d done to her, he couldn’t bring himself to refuse.

The two wandered through the grassland in silence. She held his hand tightly. He could feel the warmth of her hand against his. Tear stains still marked her face.

It felt wrong. He’d brought everyone back. Her father. Her grandfather. Her mother. Her family. This should have been a moment of happiness. Not... this.

Eventually, the silence became too much for him.

"I brought back your family," he said quietly. "Shouldn’t you be with them?"

Anorah’s fingers tightened around his hand.

"I want to be with you."

Atticus turned to look at her.

"I’m sorry... for leaving you like that. I know it was wrong, but I just needed to—"

"Shh..." Anorah smiled softly. "It’s okay, Atticus. That’s already behind us. And... I understand now. So don’t worry."

Atticus didn’t know what to say. He was certain she’d been pissed earlier. What changed?

He exhaled.

He knew what had changed. It wasn’t every day your partner annihilated the entire universe, after all.

"...Are you scared of me?" he asked quietly, somehow afraid of the answer. Relief washed through him when Anorah shook her head.

"No."

"Then why... why is everyone looking at me like this? I don’t understand."

He held the power of the universe, yet he restrained himself from reading his family’s thoughts. He wanted to live peacefully, and that meant respecting them. The paranoia... he wanted to leave it behind. Yet this situation unsettled him.

Anorah fell silent, as though carefully choosing her words.

"...We’re just... worried about you."

"...Worried?"

She gently squeezed his hand.

"...Yes."

Worried. Why would they be worried? Atticus turned everything over in his mind again and again, only to arrive at the same conclusion.

He didn’t understand.

Why would they be worried?

The thought refused to leave him. It lingered, growing heavier and heavier until he could no longer bear it. He slipped his hand from Anorah’s before vanishing without another word.

He appeared at the edge of a tall cliff, watching the sun slowly sink beyond the horizon, painting the world in pale light. Once again, he turned everything over in his mind, desperately trying to understand.

They were worried about him.

Yet he’d done nothing that should make them feel that way. He’d done everything... everything... for the sake of his family.

He’d slaughtered. He’d killed. And now, after so much pain and suffering, he’d finally succeeded. He had achieved his goal. Right now, he felt thrilled. Happy. Excited.

He’d given his family peace. Now he could finally cast aside the paranoia, the rage, the pain... and simply live.

He could live in peace. He felt overjoyed. So boundlessly overjoyed.

"Huh?"

Atticus blinked. His arms... they were trembling.

Why?

Was it because he was so overwhelmed with joy that even his body couldn’t contain it? He was a Primordial. What could his body possibly fail to contain?

Atticus stared at his arms. Then he froze. Blood. Crimson, sticky blood drenched his arms.

Wh-where did it come from?

He looked around. All he saw was red. He no longer stood atop the cliff. Instead, he was drowning. Everywhere he looked, there was only blood. An endless sea of it.

It engulfed him. Swallowed him. Flooded into his throat. He couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t see. His heart hammered against his chest.

What was going on?

Then, within the sea of blood, countless figures began to emerge. Men. Women. Children. Each one bloodied, battered, agony etched across their faces.

They were endless. Hundreds of thousands of trillions. Every one of them stared at him. Their hollow eyes accused him. They were... they were the people he’d killed.

He had truly ended that many lives... simply for his goal.

A gust of wind brushed against him, and he realized he was back at the edge of the cliff. He slowly lowered himself to the ground, staring at the setting sun on the horizon.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

He wiped at his eyes. Again. Then again. Yet the tears refused to stop.

He raised an arm to hide them, but it soon became soaked. He wiped at them again, only for another sob to escape him. Then another.

So... this was why they were worried. He’d ended so many lives...

How the hell had he thought he could simply live with himself? In peace. How could there ever be peace after what he’d done? He was... he was a monster.

His sobs echoed through the wind as he curled into himself.

High above, Attimax held Ilyshkara back from going to him. She turned toward him, tears filling her eyes, but Attimax only shook his head. His own eyes were bloodshot, his fists clenched so tightly that blood trickled down his palms.

Beside them, Avalon gently held Anastasia back. Whisker had quietly taken it upon himself to stop Grace. Every one of them watched Atticus weep, their eyes either bloodshot or filled with tears.

Of them all... only Grandma Freya stepped forward. Magnus quietly stopped the others from following.

She didn’t say a word. She simply rested a gentle hand on Atticus’ shoulder. He looked up. The moment he saw Freya’s gentle smile, he threw himself into her embrace.

"Grandma... Grandma."

"It’s alright, my baby boy." She held him a little tighter. "Let it out. You don’t have to carry it anymore. We’re here. All of us."

Across countless kilometers, only the sound of Atticus weeping echoed through the world.