Trouble

Atticus's breathing still sounded labored as he thoroughly searched the corpse of the alien he had just defeated.

His whole body arched badly, and he wanted nothing more than to lay down here and do nothing. But Atticus wouldn't allow that. Not in a thousand years.

'What if we're not at the academy again?' Atticus had no idea if they were still being protected by their artifacts, and he sure as hell didn't plan on testing it on himself. There might be no more protection from real death.

He had made so many assumptions in his head already that many would call him delusional. But this whole situation was just so bizarre that he couldn't help it.

After going through the corpse for a few seconds, Atticus finally found what he was searching for.

He allowed his form to move back, sitting down on the forest floor, and gazed intently at the item in his palm.