Grim Reaper in the Apocalypse: Reaping Immortals

Atlan liked the idea of increasing his base speed permanently. If he could harness a fraction of his speed when he used his Angel Wings, then he'd be able to catch Lizzie in a matter of seconds. She wouldn't even see a blur.

The problem lay in the fact that it was easier said than done. He understood the concept of pushing something past its limits.

It was just like pushing a very heavy box up a hill. Sure, it's hard to move the box and it would only get harder and harder as he went up, but at least he would know that he was progressing.

The task presented to him by Lizzie was like pushing a very heavy box up a hill, but he didn't even know where the box was. How could he start the arduous task of pushing the box up, when he couldn't even lay his eyes on it?

"I don't know how to do that," admitted Atlan.

Lizzie smiled. "It's fine. This is what the training session is for. If you can't get a grasp of your hidden mutation, then I will be the one to push you to your limits instead. Get ready for a beating."

Her words turned out to be prophetic as she continued her barrage of clawed attacks at Atlan's body.

Atlan defended his side using his already injured arm and tried to catch her limb with his other arm, but she was already gone to target his legs before he could even extend his hand towards her.

This pattern would continue, with Atlan completely helpless as his entire body got filled with cuts and reddened claw marks.

She was relentless and gave him no chance to rest.

It started to get on his nerves. Her attacks didn't even hurt him physically. Her claws were as light as a love tap and only cost him a few minutes of his SoulTime in total, but the fact that he couldn't even do anything from her continuous attacks got him riled up.

With every move he had, she anticipated it. With every attack he tried to dodge, she would target another part. Every time he tried to catch her, she would always slip past him by a very slim margin.

Atlan ran along the walls to prevent any more attacks from her, but she clawed the walls and ran along the walls above him.

The martial arts he learned from previous fights were of no use against her. His kicking ability, which was his most confident strength, was rendered useless because of her slipperiness.

What was frustrating for him was the fact that he already knew her moves. With his memory, he was able to grasp what sort of movements she made.

She was like a cat. Her first move would be a burst of speed accompanied by a direct attack. As he tried to defend himself from this attack, she would move over to his blind spot.

By then, she would lay in wait, with her legs and feet on the ground, ready to pounce for her next target.

He dissected her moves in his head. He could even copy her moves if he wanted to, but without her mutation, it would only leave him vulnerable.

He could see the weaknesses in her move set. He theoretically knew where he could catch her off guard. He knew that his best chance to catch her was the moment when she repositioned herself after she just finished attacking him.

But everything was useless if she was faster than him.n/ô/vel/b//in dot c//om

With her cat eyes, ears, and whiskers, no amount of feints or tactics could catch her off guard.

The only way he'd be able to overpower her was if he was faster than her.

Atlan resorted to wildly swinging his arms, hoping that his randomness would be able to even graze her just by a little bit. But, it was no use.

Slowly, he started to get annoyed. He wanted to get faster, just so that he could finally catch her slippery body. He wasn't even thinking about his mutations anymore.

She didn't give him any chance to think—he was forced to just…do.

She kept weaving left and right, bouncing up and down, and doing everything she could to overwhelm him with attacks that he had no chance of ever dodging away from.

His black battle suit slowly got torn into pieces, showing his skin and the cuts on his body.

Lizzie bent her body low on the ground, with her upper body and head almost scraping the floor, and her lower body was tilted up.

She was about to pounce.

He knew what he was about to do, and he knew that he wasn't going to be able to do anything about it. She knew that too. That's why she didn't care if she choreographed her moves to him.

She was going to pounce up and give him a little tap on the head and bite him in the neck.

It already happened several times before, and he was always helpless to defend against it. He was always one step too slow or too fast to avoid her attack.

And in his desperation, Atlan stopped thinking and just went for it. Even though he knew that he wasn't fast enough to charge towards her as she pounced, he still did it.

All he had in his mind was a desire to be faster, to be quicker than he was before.

Suddenly, the world around him turned silent. He couldn't hear the sound of her claws scraping against the metal flooring, he couldn't hear her playful teasing, he couldn't even hear the nervous beating of his heart—he heard nothing at all.

The white walls of the training room disappeared from his view. All he could see was the figure of Lizzie, with a slight grin on her face, ready to pounce towards him. She was his target.

He dove forward by mere instinct. And somehow, his movements felt more natural than before. He wasn't thinking about how to outsmart her, he wasn't thinking about how to defend her, he was only thinking about catching her.

As he felt his body reach towards her, he felt complete control over his body. If he wanted to, he could get faster than before.

And so he did. He accelerated towards her.

This was the first time he experienced this. He was in a flow state; he was in the zone.