To Atticus, the view of the world had changed.
The roaring armies, sounds of weapons clashing against one another, the deaths… all of it had fallen away.
The world had turned to a realm of silence.
Here, everything was clear. Correct. His brain no longer filtered information emotionally; perception and decision had become nigh instantaneous.
Through his sights, the world reduced itself to frames and vectors, movement and calculation.
Every sensory input was processed with mathematical clarity; sound, light, motion… all integrated into a predictive model.
In this world, Atticus felt more alive than he'd ever felt before. There were no limitations, no hesitation. Only angles, momentum and probabilities.
He saw what was, and acted with the certainty of a person who knew. A god.
Which was why, as he severed the grotesque arm of the second Sentinel, Atticus already knew what would come next.
The creature's energy rippled unnaturally, spreading downward instead of out.
