By the time night fell, Atticus opened his eyes. His chest rose and fell as he let out a deep breath.
"I'm getting the hang of this," he muttered to himself.
The improvement was clear. While the techniques he had replicated today were less complex compared to what he had observed from other races, the progress was still significant.
Each signature had been locked into his memory, and his replication speed was steadily improving.
Still, it wasn't enough.
"I've got a long way to go," Atticus admitted.
"A long way?" Ozeroth's voice returned, laced with amusement. "I'd say an eternity. You've just figured out how to crawl, yet you dream of running a marathon."
Atticus smirked faintly. "I'll get there. Faster than you think."
"Optimism?" Ozeroth's chuckle was deep and mocking. "Don't worry, I'll be here to remind you when you trip and fall. Someone has to keep you grounded."
