Winner

Atticus had buried every single feeling that wouldn't help with ending the existence of Cerron deep down inside him.

He knew it was wrong. It was only an insult, one that wouldn't really justify ending the life of a person, but Atticus didn't care. He had never really been the moral high-type of person.

Cerron had insulted his mother, and he wanted him dead. That was all there was to it.

But unfortunately, he was too weak to decide something like that. He couldn't ever dream of facing a grandmaster rank, not with his current power.

The powerful make the rules.

Atticus knew and believed in that phrase, which was why he hadn't said anything when Dekai had stopped him from killing Cerron. It wasn't his place to; he was weak.

Regardless, he would never let it slide. It wasn't in his nature.

Atticus suddenly raised his arm, and his construct responded in kind.

Its faceless head turned toward Cerron with unsettling speed.