Time is the currency that every living thing must pay. No matter the endeavor, the cost is there. Atra refuses to pay up. There is so much he wants to accomplish and he has so little faith in others picking up the pieces. This means, to his mind, he can't afford to settle the tab. He can't die...not until he's finished. For this, Atra experiments in any method that might prolong his lifespan while avoiding anything he deems detrimental towards that goal.

As a result, Atra evaluates risk primarily in how it relates to his own self, to the point of recognizing and summarily disregarding threats to others. This fact doesn't go unnoticed, as he makes no attempt to disguise it, and very few appreciate it.

Atra is consumed by a desire to avoid mistakes—not just his own but those who could walk the same path—and it is the power to do so that he seeks. What greater power is there than knowledge? To this end, Ventus seeks out and studies the artifacts and rituals of the past. He believes that by understanding the strengths and missteps already discovered he'll be able to carve a path to rise above them. Atra even rebels against the absolute of 'good or evil', finding lessons to be learned in both. All that matters is girding himself with the tools to impact the future and pass them on to those worthy of it.

But his vision is perhaps cast too wide. With such far-reaching desires and studies, he can't help but treat the people and events of the present with apathy and a measure of unintentional disregard.

Atra sometimes has to remind himself that he's still alive. This often comes in the form of self-satisfaction. He finds particular pleasure in utilizing puns as a form of humor. To him it employs a certain level of intelligence to come up with the varied references and substitutions that is only topped by the reactions it fosters within others. This practice only becomes worse when others interrupt or annoy him, becoming a tool of reparation for Atra. After all, where there is crime there is pun-ishment.

This particular sense of humor has a grating effect on even the most stalwart ally, unless they happen to share it. In those cases it ends up even worse for those caught in the crossfire.

The burden of intelligence is one that weighs heavily upon Atra. He's smart enough to recognize the perceived idiocy around him and finds it utterly exhausting. To him, there's a cold certainty in facts and logic that is far more desirable than the more emotional drive of others. Those baser instincts give way to cruelty and vice, rage and pain. None of those things are for Atra. He makes no effort to conform and instead stands apart, a quiet and accepting voice embracing the factual certainty of cause and effect. He speaks minimally, allowing his expressions to supplement his words.

Some could find comfort in this logical stoicness, but it is far more likely that he comes off unnerving instead, like some unfeeling, otherworldly being come to welcome one into the afterlife—if any exists.

Atra Ventus has learned to accept the power he once abhorred. In embracing it, he has cultivated a technique of combat that combines physical ability with the metaphysical likes of telekinesis and even using lightning for fatal strikes or emergency defense. Atra Ventus's method is to remain in a centralized space, moving only as much as he has to in order to avoid attacks while using the world around him as his weapon. He'll bring in debris—even creating it when not freely available—to block and strike his targets while personally striking those who get close—though he'd prefer to never let them do so. When facing difficulty, Atra Ventus will use his lightsabers instead of debris.

This heavy focus on the Force allows him to stand as a powerful foe, but he will tire quickly against ever greater numbers of combatants and is at risk of succumbing to those who can outlast him.

Atra Ventus knows that most battles are lost long before the final blow. It is something he seeks to leverage at all times. He values an opponent's thoughts and reactions as much as their combat ability, putting pressure on them verbally to gather more information. He turns them into a puzzle to be solved. Combat itself becomes secondary to this mental war, and he won't hesitate to settle into a lull in favor of what he considers to be the more important battlefront.

While understanding and, potentially, breaking another person mentally is a reliable method, no two individuals function the same. It's a tightrope between tipping matters in his own favor or sending things off the deep end. A foe could be built up just as easily as they're torn down. Perhaps they're afflicted by a madness that makes such efforts just a waste of time. Still, one should always try.