Two Hope

Atticus gazed calmly at the screen in front of him.

'Even though I broke the rules and sent him out, it still counts as my win,' he thought. He had expected some sort of backlash for helping Draktharion, but everything had continued as though it didn't matter.

'Hmm.'

His thoughts shifted to the arena and the fight that had just ensued. The molten glow had faded, leaving behind many areas of devastation.

'He was weaker than I thought he would be,' Atticus reflected.

A reincarnator, combined with being born into a mid-tier race—those two factors had led Atticus to expect a far tougher opponent. He had thought he was facing a version of himself on another level today.

'Have I grown that strong?' He thought about the draw he had with Ae'ark during their battle.

Back then, the major reason for the draw was his lack of preparation. But after a year of extensive training, his growth had been remarkable.

But that wasn't the only factor.