It had been one month, and as expected, Atticus sat rooted on his spot on top of the hill.
The seasons had come and gone. Rain, searing heat. But one of the perks of being a god was that he was the world, and the world was him.
No rain dared come close. No heat dared feel hot. To the world, they felt each change, but to Atticus, it remained constant. The same.
Through this month, Atticus had focused on another part of his power. Now that he had absorbed all the cores and had become a god, it was finally time to focus on another aspect of his strength.
To this, Atticus had chosen his elements.
For a long time now, the majority of them, aside from the four basic ones, had been stuck at a level cap.
In the past, he had tried his very best to find the perfect combinations to merge them, but each time, he came up blank. He just hadn't been feeling it.
No matter the combination he tried or the feelings he tried to impose, nothing seemed to work.
