In the middle of a lightly bustling camp, the ground surrounding an imposing large terminal suddenly lit up in a golden glow, illuminating the surroundings and attracting the gazes of the students walking in the area.
As soon as the golden light dimmed, the form of a white-haired boy with his left hand stretched outward as though gripping something appeared in view.
"Hmm, that felt different," Atticus muttered. He could recall the weird and surreal feeling he always got anytime he got transported. The same thing had happened now, but he was able to properly identify the cause of the feeling.
It was because the space element forcefully acted on him in order to teleport him.
Atticus gazed at his stretched hand, which was supposed to be holding a particular orange-haired boy, with narrowed eyes.
The unfolding events had taken too much of his attention that Atticus hadn't paid close attention to the time he had left.
