Creation Of All Things

BOOM.

The sky cracked.

Jordan was flung sideways, crashing through a floating cliff that shattered on impact. Pieces rained down like meteors. His body skipped across the air like a stone on water before he caught himself mid-flight, flipping and hovering.

He touched his chest—again.

"Okay…" he muttered, glancing at his fingers like they weren't his. "What the hell was that?"

Below, Adam floated lazily in place. One hand still raised, palm open. No dramatic pose. No glowing eyes.

Just stillness.

Jordan narrowed his gaze. The air around Adam shimmered. Space itself looked wrong. Like someone had dragged a paintbrush across reality and smudged the edges.

"Cute trick," Jordan said, wiping blood from his lip. "You break the rules now?"

Adam shrugged. "I am the rules."

Jordan snorted. "Arrogant much?"

He blurred forward—straight at him—arm cocked back, ready to break something important.

But he never reached him.

Mid-dash, the sky bent sideways.

Literally bent.

Jordan flew sideways, up, then down—all at once. Like the laws of physics decided to take a coffee break.

He hit an invisible wall, bounced off, flipped through a kaleidoscope of shifting space—red, blue, inverted colors—and finally landed, skidding across… water?

No. Glass?

No—air, maybe.

He stood. Looked around. Nothing made sense.

The world was a jigsaw puzzle missing half its pieces.

Adam walked out of a ripple in space, calm as ever.

"You're in my domain now," he said. "I decide what's real."

Jordan blinked. Then he grinned again.

"I love this."

He charged.

Adam snapped.

The ground turned into sludge.

Jordan sank mid-step, but spun and kicked off an invisible platform to stay above.

Snap.

Gravity tripled.

Jordan dropped like a rock, caught himself, then flexed—and his legs adjusted, swelling slightly, reinforcing themselves.

Snap.

A mountain appeared out of nowhere—Jordan smashed through it with his shoulder, spinning, laughing.

Snap.

Thousands of Adam clones appeared, all throwing punches at once.

Jordan didn't flinch.

He ducked, weaved, adapted.

Each strike taught him something. Each fake Adam pushed him closer to cracking the trick.

One clone landed a punch—Jordan let it happen, then grinned.

"Not real," he whispered. "But the pressure is."

His arms shimmered.

Shifted.

He caught a clone by the neck—then another—then crushed them both like glass.

The illusion shattered.

Back in realspace—if you could call it that—Jordan hovered opposite Adam, panting now, but eyes wild.

"You think I can't learn this?"

Adam's brows furrowed, just a little.

"You're not supposed to be able to."

Jordan cracked his neck. "Well… that's your problem, not mine."

And just like that—he started changing.

The glow around his body deepened. His eyes turned white-gold. Symbols flickered across his skin like glitching code.

He wasn't just adapting to strength or speed anymore.

He was adapting to reality.

Adam's face hardened. "You're pushing too far."

"I have to," Jordan growled. "You gave me no choice."

He swung his arm—space cracked.

Not a technique. Not an ability. Just raw force strong enough to punch a hole through Adam's domain.

Adam flinched. Just barely.

Jordan stepped through the hole like it was a door. His body pulsed with unstable light, fingers twitching, skin flickering between his original tone and something unnatural—like a silhouette drawn in chaos.

"You think you're the only one who breaks systems?" he said. "Watch this."

He vanished.

This time, no afterimage.

Just gone.

Then—

BOOM.

Adam staggered. A hit had landed—on his back.

Another—his ribs.

A third—temple.

Jordan reappeared, breathing hard, grinning with blood in his teeth.

"I'm inside it now," he whispered. "Your system. Your reality. I get it."

Adam touched his cheek where a faint bruise was forming. He didn't smile. He didn't panic.

He just looked… impressed.

"Then I guess I'll stop holding back."

For the first time—Adam moved.

Not floated. Not strolled. He moved.

The sky split in half.

Jordan barely blocked the first punch, and even then, his arms bent at unnatural angles. He was launched backward, arms flailing, blood flying from his mouth.

Adam didn't let up.

He followed—appearing mid-flight—fist cocked.

Jordan twisted mid-air and blocked, but the force sent a shockwave ripping through the clouds. Rain exploded outward like shrapnel.

They clashed again. Again. Again.

Mountains split. Oceans drained. Space folded like paper.

Each punch from Adam felt like a command to the universe: Break.

Each dodge from Jordan felt like defiance written in muscle memory: Not yet.

Jordan screamed—half pain, half joy—and kicked Adam into a ring of clouds that exploded on impact.

Then he roared, energy erupting from his chest.

Not a blast.

Just willpower turned physical.

Reality trembled.

And then—

They both charged.

No tricks. No space-bending.

Just fists.

One after the other.

The air screamed. Lightning curved around them.

For a full minute, they fought with nothing but hands and feet. Punches. Kicks. Knees. Elbows. No words.

Just raw combat.

Until finally—

They stopped.

Hovering.

Breathing heavy.

Blood ran down both their faces. Cuts. Burns. Bruises. None of it mattered.

Because they were smiling.

Not because it was over.

Because it wasn't.

Jordan cracked his knuckles, his body still shifting, still adapting—flickers of silver and chaos crawling across his skin.

"You're everything I hoped for," he said, voice hoarse.

Adam tilted his head. "You done adapting yet?"

Jordan wiped his lip. "Hell no."

Then they both laughed.

And dove in again.

The world jerked.

Not metaphorically—literally. Like someone had grabbed the edges of reality and yanked it sideways.

One second, Jordan was in the air, glowing, ready to rip the sky apart.

Next second?

Everything was upside down. Colors inverted. Gravity gone. Sound stretched and bent like rubber.

He blinked.

The sky was below. The ground above. Trees melted into clocks. Time stuttered like a broken record.

Snap.

Adam stood on nothing, arms folded, eyes steady. Calm. Still.

"You sure you're ready for this?" he asked.

Jordan's body twisted mid-air, still adapting—already shifting his center of balance. He floated, fists clenched, gaze locked.

"Don't know what you just did," he said slowly, voice bouncing strangely in the warped air, "but I like it."

Then he shot forward.

Fast.

Too fast.

The moment he moved, space snapped in half, folding like paper. But instead of slowing, Jordan spun through it—tumbling between layers of twisted dimension like he was born there.

Adam didn't even blink.

He stepped to the side—and space shifted with him.

Jordan's fist missed by a breath, crashing through what looked like glass, shattering a fake version of the world behind Adam.

Illusions. No—layers.

Jordan landed hard on an invisible floor, breathing steady. "You turned the battlefield into a kaleidoscope," he muttered, licking the blood off his lip. "Cute trick."

He blinked again. His eyes—now glowing deep orange with cracks of violet—shifted like lenses.

Scanning.

Reading.

Adjusting.

Then he roared, and his body twitched—his form starting to flicker between versions of himself.

Different angles. Different positions. Like he existed in multiple slices of space.

Adam's brow rose slightly. "You're syncing."

Jordan grinned. "Your playground, your rules? Fine. I'll learn the game."

BOOM.

He lunged.

Adam moved.

The fight restarted.

But this time?

It wasn't fists and kicks.

It was warping.

Jordan phased through broken time-loops, punching through echoes. He'd strike from the past—only for Adam to respond from the future.

Adam blinked in and out of frames like a video skipping—dodging attacks before they came.

Jordan dropped low, slammed his palm to the warped ground—light surged out in waves, forcing the world to bend again.

He was rewriting the local space around him.

Copying Adam's reality twist.

"See?" Jordan said, voice double-layered now. "You twist the world, I twist with it."

Adam vanished—reappeared upside down behind Jordan mid-sentence, driving a knee into his back.

Jordan flipped—caught the knee, spun, and slammed Adam into a floating chunk of land.

The land cracked—Adam rebounded instantly, foot slicing upward.

Jordan blocked with one arm—then winced. That one hurt.

But his skin changed again. Bones hardened. Muscles rewired.

He was adjusting to the pain.

Adam landed across from him again, breathing lightly. "You evolve fast."

Jordan smiled—wider than ever. "You evolve the world. I evolve myself."

Then he charged—arms coated in refracted light, each punch echoing through multiple dimensions.

Adam caught the first.

Dodged the second.

The third hit—and reality fractured.

A crack ran through the air itself.

Colors drained. Sound vanished.

Just silence.

Adam stood still, looking down at the wound in the world.

Jordan tilted his head. "Didn't know I could do that."

Adam's face didn't change. But his aura did.

He raised both hands.

And then—he stopped holding back.

No flash. No grand pose.

Just movement.

And Jordan went flying.

Not because he was punched.

Because the world rejected him.

Like Adam had commanded reality to remove him.

Jordan hit a wall that wasn't there. Skidded across a ground that hadn't existed a moment ago. Tumbled through fake cities, frozen rain, and backward lightning.

He landed hard.

Blood this time. A lot.

He groaned—actually groaned—then pushed himself up.

Face bruised. Ribs cracked.

Still smiling.

He looked up at Adam, now floating high above, coat flapping in slow motion, surrounded by broken fragments of time and space swirling like snowflakes.

"You... are seriously not normal," Jordan muttered, wiping blood from his face.

Adam didn't respond.

Didn't need to.

Because Jordan was already adapting.

His body shimmered—again. The silver hue deepened. Muscles knit themselves back together. His eyes became pure orange, with slits now.

Not human.

Not Ashura anymore, either.

Something new.

And then?

He started floating, too.

No wings. No tricks. Just sheer understanding of how this world worked now.

"Let's go," he whispered.

And in the next moment—

They collided again.

But this time?

They weren't just fighting.

They were rewriting the battlefield with every move.

Fists bent gravity.

Kicks reversed entropy.

A scream made colors bleed.

And still—neither backed down.

Jordan, the weapon.

Adam, the anomaly.

And the world?

It could barely keep up.