To Atticus, the world had dissolved into a blur. His speed was so extreme it bordered on teleportation. One moment he stood at the western edge of the territory, hundreds of thousands of miles from the nearest city, and the next, he snapped into existence deep within the territory, just at the outskirts of the city.
His eyes narrowed at the sight ahead. A man in the midnight purple uniform of the abyss army tore across the terrain, limbs flailing as he laughed hysterically, teeth flashing like a crazed animal.
Atticus didn't waste a thought on what he was seeing. A silver streak cut through the air as his blade left its sheath. The man's torso peeled away from his lower half. The legs kept running for a moment due to the momentum before the body finally collapsed.
Atticus was already gone.
He reappeared elsewhere, gaze locking on another abyss soldier sprinting madly toward the city. Another streak, another corpse. Then he vanished again.
