Creation Of All Things

Adam didn't move at first.

Just a small smirk.

Then—he snapped his fingers.

And everything stopped.

Jordan blinked.

The world bent.

Then peeled.

Like layers of paint stripped off canvas.

The colors drained. The air froze. The broken battlefield shattered like glass—and beneath it?

A different realm.

No... not just a realm.

Adam's world.

---

Everything was black and white.

Mountains floated upside down. Rivers flowed in circles. Suns blinked like lightbulbs in the sky, and the moon pulsed like a heartbeat.

There was no ground—just an endless void of fragmented terrain spinning around a giant black sphere in the distance.

And in the center of it all?

Adam.

Feet hovering just above a platform that wasn't really there. Arms loose at his side. His coat barely fluttered—there was no wind here. Only pressure.

Crushing.

Ancient.

Primordial.

Jordan looked around slowly, lips parted. "Where the hell is this?"

Adam didn't answer.

He didn't have to.

This was his domain.

Reality Drift took hold.

His form began to flicker—phasing in and out of existence like a glitch. One second, he was solid. The next, translucent. The next, gone.

He walked slowly—through the air, through space, through light itself—until he stood right in front of Jordan.

Then vanished again.

Jordan spun—too late.

Adam reappeared behind him, hand on his shoulder.

"Welcome," he whispered, "to my personal sandbox."

---

The air tore apart.

BOOM!

Jordan was sent flying—not from a punch, not from a blast—but from rejection. This world didn't want him.

Adam simply willed it, and the space around Jordan pushed him away like a virus.

Jordan crashed through three floating stone monoliths, flipped mid-air, and landed in a crouch.

He spat blood, wiped his mouth, then chuckled.

"Alright," he said, "this is new."

He stood up, body shimmering again. Adapting.

Adam didn't wait.

He walked straight through the air—literally through it—his form glitching, skipping, stretching.

He didn't use speed.

He just was.

Reality Drift.

Punches came from impossible angles. Some landed before Adam even moved. Some after he disappeared.

Jordan got hit from six different directions.

And all Adam did was step forward.

Jordan grunted, blocked one punch—then got kicked in the chest through the space behind him.

He hit a wall that wasn't there. The wall turned into a mirror. He saw himself—bleeding. Then the mirror shattered, and Adam was there again.

But Jordan grinned.

Because every punch hurt less.

His skin was thicker. His eyes sharper.

Adapting.

Adam cocked his head. "Still standing?"

Jordan wiped his chin. "Yeah. That all you got?"

Adam grinned.

And then—he spread his arms.

The void trembled.

The black sphere in the distance began to glow. Runes ignited in the sky. Gravity flipped upside down.

Then—

BOOM.

His body expanded.

Muscles layered over muscle. Veins of golden energy lit up across his arms. His skin darkened to obsidian, glowing with molten cracks. Horns curled from his head. His eyes burned like twin stars.

WAR TITAN FORM.

Ten stories tall.

Power humming in every breath.

Each footstep broke floating continents.

Jordan looked up. "...Shit."

Adam roared—just once—and a shockwave wiped out everything for a mile.

Jordan shielded himself with his arms, spinning in the air, using the force to launch himself higher.

He charged.

Straight into the titan's chest.

His fist hit Adam's ribs—cracked the armor—and bounced off.

Adam caught him like a toy.

CRACK.

Jordan was slammed down, crushed through a dozen floating slabs of stone. He coughed blood again—but twisted his body and kicked off the rubble before it could trap him.

He zoomed back up, eyes burning orange.

Adam's hand came again.

But Jordan phased—just slightly—mimicking Adam's Reality Drift. Just enough to slip through the fingers.

He reappeared on Adam's shoulder.

BOOM!

Uppercut to the temple.

Adam's head turned. Slowly.

Not from pain.

From interest.

"You're mimicking me," Adam said, voice like thunder. "Cute."

Jordan's body pulsed with energy, skin crackling with barely-contained kinetic force.

"You punch hard," Jordan said, panting. "But I punch better."

He raised both arms—and slammed his fists into Adam's neck.

CRACK.

The titan stumbled.

The sky flickered.

A piece of the realm broke off.

Adam reached up—and flicked Jordan with a finger.

Jordan flew halfway across the realm.

Landed. Rolled.

Got up.

His bones healed mid-run as he sprinted back into the air.

Adam laughed.

Actually laughed.

A deep, bone-vibrating laugh that made the whole realm rumble.

"You're seriously not dying."

Jordan's nose bled. His shirt was torn to ribbons. His arms trembled.

But he was grinning.

"You said this is your playground," he called out, huffing. "Then let's play, big guy."

Adam didn't reply.

He lunged.

Faster than any titan had the right to be.

He spun—axe appearing out of thin air, forged from the bones of forgotten gods—and swung down with god-killing weight.

Jordan dodged left—barely.

The axe carved a canyon in the air itself.

Authority Override triggered—Adam's form ignored the very laws of inertia and force. The swing should've slowed him. It didn't.

He reversed it mid-motion.

Jordan caught the shaft—barely—and was flung around like a ragdoll, but he used the momentum to launch himself again.

He aimed for the chest.

No more holding back.

No fancy tricks.

Just raw violence.

He drove his knee into Adam's ribs, then twisted, backfisted the jaw, and kicked off the shoulder again.

Then zipped around—hammering a punch into the back of Adam's knee.

The titan actually stumbled.

Jordan laughed.

Adam raised a hand—and snapped.

The sky went black.

No more stars. No more floating debris.

Just nothing.

Jordan froze mid-flight.

"What now?"

Adam reappeared in front of him—normal size again.

Not bleeding. Not tired.

Just grinning.

"This is fun," he said softly.

Jordan looked confused.

"You're the first guy," Adam continued, voice low, "who can keep up without whining. You don't care what I throw at you."

Jordan raised a brow. "Is that a compliment or are you stalling?"

Adam's eyes gleamed.

"It's a compliment."

Then he cracked his knuckles.

"Now I'm really gonna enjoy this."

Jordan grinned wide. "Then shut up and hit me already."

And they clashed again—

Fists meeting fists. Worlds breaking.

No fancy speeches.

No drama.

Just chaos.

Pure, stupid, beautiful chaos.

And both of them?

Smiling like maniacs.