Atticus's Odyssey: Reincarnated Into A Playground C.684 No Survivors

Play Speak

Boom.

It was just one syllable. One word that, depending on the situation, could mean total destruction or surprise.

However, considering the current circumstances, none of the Alverians felt even the slightest bit of excitement.

First, the situation—this was war. The mere mention of that word could cause many hearts to skip a beat.

The second, and most important factor, was the person who spoke the word. If it had been an individual known as a joker, the fear that enveloped the Alverian fleet wouldn't have been as intense.

But the one who uttered the word was none other than the infamous witch, Lyanna Ravenstein. There wasn't a single Alverian soldier who didn't shudder, their hairs standing on end.

"WAIT—"

Councilor Ferro screamed at the top of his lungs, but it was too late.

It started from one tiny spot among the swarm of wyrms surrounding the large airship, a blinding orange light replacing it.

And then, like a supersonic reaction, the orange dot began radiating outward around the airships, followed by the powerful sound of explosions rocking the space.

It only took a second for the division heads to understand, but Councilor Ferro had already figured it out. As soon as he saw the orange dot, he knew exactly what was happening.

The wyrms were exploding!

"BREAK FORMATION NOW!! GET THE WYRMS AWAY FROM EACH AIRSHIP!"

Councilor Ferro lost his composure, screaming orders at the top of his lungs, both fists slamming into the display table with intense force.

The division heads snapped out of their shock and rushed out of the control room, intent on carrying out Ferro's orders.

"SHIT!"

BAM!

Ferro slammed his fists on the display table once more, causing a staggering number of cracks to form.

"THAT WITCH, THAT WITCH!"

Ferro frantically pounded his fists on the table, his once calm gaze now completely bloodshot.

He was beyond angry—he was seething. He had known he would face that cruel woman and had taken every precaution he thought possible. He had been so careful. So why? Why was this happening?!

The thousands of wyrms—ships meant to be their trump card against the Ravensteins—were exploding, each one turning into nothing but scraps.

But that wasn't even what enraged him the most. No, it was something far worse. Through the display in front of him, Ferro could see everything. He could see exactly what was causing the explosions.

On the numerous split screens in front of him, each one showed the same horrifying scene playing out on the wyrms. A scene that made his heart wrench.

Multiple members of the Alverian family—his own blood—would suddenly leave their stations, move toward the engine rooms, and then, without warning, they would implode.

Ferro didn't know how. He didn't even know when it had started. But he knew exactly who was responsible.

Lyanna Ravenstein.

"That witch… so cruel… so cruel," Ferro muttered, his usual calm demeanor shattered. He was one of the elders of the Alverian family, someone who had watched many grow and who wished for the prosperity of his family.

His time was coming to an end, with the next generation ready to take over where he left off.

They were all under him—thousands of Alverians who were supposed to be focused on the art of alchemy and advancing their knowledge and abilities.

However, they had bitten off more than they could chew. By now, even a toddler could guess what had happened, and it wasn't a surprise that Councilor Ferro had come to the same conclusion.

Lyanna had anticipated this day could come and had taken extreme measures. Intense, almost insane measures that had taken years, if not decades, to put in place.

She had utilized infiltration cells to their fullest extent.

The Alverians had always been a family of alchemy; no matter how hard they tried, they could never match the Ravensteins, a warrior family through and through.

The infiltration had been easy, and from there, they had begun their work, embedding themselves deep into the Alverian family.

Unfortunately, despite how skilled her spies were, it would be easy to identify them as outsiders. That's when she decided on another approach.

She targeted their youths—young minds still weak and easily manipulated. She broke them, tortured them, twisted them into doing whatever she desired.

Once they were aboard, all that was left was time. And time had passed. These weren't youths anymore.

This was the cruelty that was Lyanna Ravenstein.

"So cruel… so cruel. HAAAAA!"

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Councilor Ferro's aura exploded from his body, causing the entire control room to quake.

"FIRE EVERYTHING! KILL THOSE WHITE-HAIRED BASTARDS! ERASE THAT WITCH FROM THE FACE OF THIS PLANET!!"

A small smile crept onto Lyanna's face as she watched the chaos unfold. An intense orange glow flashed across her face, coming from the staggering number of explosions from the Alverian fleet.

Because of the close proximity of the Wyrms to the large airships, many ships had fallen victim, their massive forms ablaze as they plummeted from the sky.

Ferro had been fast enough to issue orders, separating the Wyrms from the airships. This maneuver had saved many, leaving 14 out of the original 30 airships still in action.

However, the large airships had now lost their advantage, no longer resistant to elemental attacks.

Ferro's furious scream suddenly rocked the battlefield, followed by the repositioning of the remaining airships. Crimson glows ignited from their massive cannons, preparing to fire.

Lyanna's smile widened. The air around her remained serene. Fourteen large airships were about to bombard her forces, and yet, she didn't seem to care.

Once again, her lips parted, and a single word resounded across the entire battlefield.

"Attack."

As Lyanna's command echoed across the battlefield, everything froze for a split second, the tension in the air reaching its peak.

The battalion commanders snapped out of their shock, their auras turning icy.

Suddenly, their power erupted like a storm across the battlefield, blanketing the area with an overwhelming force.

In perfect unison, the commanders roared the same word, their voices shaking the earth:

"No survivors."

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