Measly

Atticus's perception was working in complete overdrive, his mind processing the battle at speeds only someone who had faced death countless times could ever achieve. 

Each of Carius's attacks was a blur to the majority of the onlookers watching from outside, but Atticus was reading every move, calculating, adjusting. 

He read every single nuance of Carius's movement, his senses completely heightened, and his connection with the space element growing to unimaginable heights.

But as the clashes went on, something felt off.

No matter how perfectly Atticus predicted Carius's strikes or moved to counter them, he was always a fraction of a second behind. 

He had always been the one to read people during battles. However, it seemed now as though Carius was the one reading him— anticipating every action before Atticus could even execute it.