Atticus moved towards the east side of the forest at a fast speed. Although his body was filled with crimson blood, already showing signs of drying, he was more or less healed.
But regardless of how many healing or stamina recovery potions he wanted to take, it would do little to recover his will.
Atticus was still battling with an inner turmoil, one that questioned his every move. Every action or thought he took or planned to take was always done with multiple times the effort.
However, despite the setback, Atticus's movements were swift and agile. His body felt as though he was as light as a feather, his feet barely touching the ground before he had already moved a few meters away.
Atticus hadn't encountered any more enemies on his way, an occurrence that he should be happy about and thanking his stars for, but a deep frown found its way to Atticus's face, his hands clenching slightly.
