Atticus snapped back to consciousness, his first instinct being to quickly check his limbs one by one, in rapid succession, reassuring himself that they remained intact.
A wave of relief washed over him as he confirmed that his hands and legs were indeed intact.
He couldn't help but let out an audible exhale.
However, the sound of a chuckle from the side drew his attention, and when he turned, he saw Cedric laughing at him. "Hahaha,"
Atticus, feeling the flush of embarrassment, quickly placed his hand over his mouth, letting out an awkward cough before clearing his throat.
He composed himself and said, determination in his voice, "Again!"
After that, what followed was a relentless cycle of Atticus experiencing brutal and repeated deaths. Each time Atticus dared to lay a finger on his katana's hilt, he was inevitably transformed into little more than tiny sliced plantain by the enigmatic foe.
Yet, Atticus was never one to give up easily. He challenged the man repeatedly, his resolve pushing him to the limits.
Cedric, however, reached a point of exasperation. "That's enough!" he exclaimed, abruptly halting Atticus's attempts.
He walked toward Atticus and continued, "You can't learn it like this. You have perished exactly 103 times. Let me ask you, did you even see him draw his sword?" Cedric's query hung in the air.
Atticus, shook his head in response. He began to realize the futility of his relentless efforts, 'He's right, I'm wasting my time doing this. I can't learn it like this.'
Atticus, even with his perception couldn't follow the man's movement. That fact alone was enough to astound him.
He couldn't help but feel a little relieved, 'The more powerful the art, the better,' he thought. He knew there was only one thing he needed to get out of his predicament, he needed power.
With newfound clarity, he stood up and turned to Cedric, expressing his gratitude. "Thank you," he said sincerely. If Cedric hadn't snapped him out of it, he might not have stopped any time soon.
Cedric responded with a reassuring smile. "It's not a problem, Atticus. Time is of the essence. Let's start the training immediately," he advised, guiding Atticus.
"Now let's go into the building," Cedric directed Atticus towards the white building in the middle of the hall.
As they moved, Cedric took the opportunity to explain some crucial details. "Also, more importantly, I don't know if you've noticed, but you can't use your bloodline in this space, especially during the training," he pointed out.
Hearing Cedric mention it, it seemed to dawn on Atticus. He immediately tried to make use of his bloodline and saw he wasn't able to channel it. He couldn't even feel it at all, it was as if he never had it. 'How didn't I notice this before?' He pondered.
After a few seconds, Atticus and Cedric reached the building and entered. Inside, Atticus found himself in a completely white room with sparkling white walls and floors.
Cedric continued to provide essential information. "Here's what you need to know. Firstly, although obvious, your life is safe here. You can die and come back as many times as necessary if you want. Secondly, the training for the 2nd art is divided into three steps. Right now, you would only be learning the first step, which is about the art's movements. Walk to the middle of the room, and you'll understand what to do next." He instructed.
Atticus listened to Cedric and walked to the middle of the room. As he reached the center, he suddenly saw the man he had just fought a minute ago, albeit with a weaker aura, standing 20 meters in front of him. The man stood there as usual, nonchalantly.
Suddenly, a fast projectile zipped through the air toward him. As it got closer, the man swiftly unsheathed and sheathed his katana, cutting the projectile into two swiftly.
Immediately, three more projectiles came from another direction. Unfazed, the man repeated his earlier actions, effectively splitting them into two. Without missing a beat, another four projectiles sped toward him, but the man suddenly, the man dashed to the right.
As Atticus was wondering why the man had moved, as if answering his question, the ground the man had been standing on erupted, and a powerful burst of lava erupted from below.
Atticus watched all of this in understanding. 'This is how I learn the art movement?'
As the display ended, a clock immediately appeared in the air, with the words "10:00:00" frozen.
'Hmm, looks like there's a time limit?' He thought.
As he was pondering the use of the time, suddenly, without warning, a round projectile cut through the air, heading towards Atticus's head at supersonic speed.
He reacted quickly and unsheathed his katana, cutting it into two. The two pieces of the projectile continued onward, hitting the wall heavily.
Atticus couldn't help but gulp; the projectile was hard and heavy! If that thing had hit him at such speed, he doubted he'd survive such a clash. But before he could catch his breath, three projectiles shot at him from three different directions.
Atticus reacted swiftly, turning the sharp edge of the katana upwards. He slashed upwards, cutting the first projectile into two, then used the momentum to swiftly spin and also slash the other projectiles into two. But then another three followed immediately.
Atticus, who was still imbalanced, instinctively tried to use his bloodline but suddenly remembered Cedric's warning. 'Shit!'
Coming out of his shock, Atticus quickly executed the most embarrassing dodge he had ever done since being reincarnated. He ducked and rolled on the floor, but his eyes widened as he saw the projectiles come to an abrupt stop in the air, swiftly quickly changing direction, heading directly toward him on the ground.
On the floor, he swiftly launched himself up using his left arm. 'It's at least better now; they're all in the same direction,' he thought. Just as he was about to slash them, suddenly, the ground under him erupted in a burst of lava.
Atticus couldn't react in time as he was enveloped in searing hot molten lava.
