Creation Of All Things

The silence lasted a breath too long.

Then Adam exhaled.

A quiet, almost lazy sigh.

He raised his hand—slowly, like it wasn't urgent.

Fingers opened.

The air trembled.

"…Restore."

One word.

Soft.

Spoken like a suggestion.

But the world obeyed like it had been waiting for that very moment.

Then—

Boom.

Reality bent.

The sky glitched—colors flashing, twisting—then reversed.

The cracks in the clouds stitched shut like they were never broken.

The skeleton cities…

Started breathing again.

Ruined skyscrapers pulled their bones back together—

Glass reformed mid-air.

Steel beams reversed their collapse, slotting back into perfect alignment.

Streetlights flickered back on one by one, humming softly.

A broken bridge in New York pulled itself together like rewinding tape—cars reappearing, trees regrowing, birds flying again as if nothing had happened.

In the Sahara, desert sand parted as green burst upward—jungles unfolding in fast-forward, waterfalls roaring to life.

Frozen tundras melted just enough for new grass to peek out.

Coral reefs beneath oceans pulsed with color, and whales sang again in the deep.

The dead… stayed dead.

Adam wasn't here to play god.

Just fix what was broken.

The cost of war remained—memories, pain, scars.

But the world itself?

It healed.

Clean air rushed in where smoke once lingered.

Skies turned blue.

The sun peeked out again, warm… soft.

He lowered his hand.

Eyes half-lidded.

"Not perfect," he muttered.

"But clean enough."

Then his voice dropped, barely a whisper:

"Bring them back."

And in flashes of soft light—like stars returning to the sky—

People began reappearing.

Those who were trapped in stasis.

Those protected in rifts.

The innocent.

Children first—

Waking up in beds that were rubble minutes ago.

Then the old. The wounded.

Superhumans who had fallen but weren't meant to die yet.

Hospitals lit up.

Villages buzzed with life again.

City lights blinked back, one by one.

Somewhere in a small village in India, a boy rubbed his eyes and stared at the rice field outside his home—green again.

In Paris, a girl stepped outside and saw the Eiffel Tower standing again. She dropped her phone.

And in Africa, atop a hill, a group of warriors raised their spears—not in fear this time, but in respect.

They saw him.

High above.

Still floating.

Adam didn't wave.

Didn't smile.

He just turned his back, ready to leave.

And far below, Jordan stood silently.

He didn't say anything either.

No celebration.

No speeches.

Just two silhouettes against a healed sky.

Earth was back.

And this time…

No one was going to take it again.

Elsewhere

The battlefield was silent. The wind didn't blow. The dust had settled.

Then—

A burst of laughter cut through the silence.

Everyone turned.

It was Tatia.

The old woman—known for her cold gaze and sharp tongue—was laughing.

Really laughing. Eyes crinkled. Shoulders shaking.

People stared. No one had ever seen her like that. Not even her daughter, Gloria.

Gloria blinked in surprise… then smiled. She followed her mother's gaze, lifting her eyes to the sky where two figures slowly descended like legends out of a story.

One of them was Adam.

The other—a beaten Ashura warrior, silent and humbled.

As they landed, Tatia stepped forward, arms folded, her laughter fading into a smirk.

"Well, brat," she said, her voice proud and teasing, "didn't think you'd end up this powerful. What now? You some kind of god?"

Adam chuckled and scratched the back of his head. "Nah. Not yet. But maybe someday."

He looked her in the eye, then added with a small grin, "I'm a Monarch now. Supreme Monarch."

Before Tatia could respond, Franklin walked over, still catching his breath, but grinning like a fool.

"What do you expect?" he said, throwing an arm over Adam's shoulder. "The kid's got Dhark blood in him."

Adam's smile tightened a bit, but he didn't say anything. He just let it pass. No point stirring up old things.

Tatia rolled her eyes. "Dhark, my foot. He's a Williams. His father just wanted to act cool using that name. I've cursed him enough times for it."

Gloria sighed and muttered, "Here we go again…"

And just like that, the elders started arguing. Loud. Passionate. Petty.

About names. Blood. Lineage. Who raised who. Who trained who.

Adam watched them with a small shake of his head… and laughed.

They were safe. The world was quiet.

For now… that was enough.

"Alright," Adam said, his voice cutting clean through the room. Everyone turned to him as his tone shifted. Calm. Firm. Final.

"Now that the crisis is over, it's time I did what I actually came here for."

Before anyone could ask, he casually snapped his fingers—

FLASH!

In an instant, everyone vanished from the field…

…and reappeared in a high-tech conference room.

Long glass table. Panoramic view of the skies.

Leaders, elders, clan heads, and other powerful figures—people who hadn't even been on the battlefield—were suddenly seated in place, blinking in confusion.

And then—

"Adammm!"

A loud voice rang out as a figure bolted across the room.

Alexandria.

She launched herself at Adam and wrapped her arms around him mid-stride, planting a kiss right on his cheek.

Adam froze.

"Tsk," Selene muttered from her seat, folding her arms. "Still hopelessly obsessed with him, that one."

Adam blinked, trying to process what just happened. Then he gently peeled Alexandria off him, forcing a smile.

"Uh… hey."

Before she could pounce again, Adam disappeared from her grip and reappeared at the podium, clearing his throat like nothing happened.

Alexandria stood there, dazed.

Adam had smiled at her. Smiled.

Her face flushed bright red.

Her knees buckled—

"Woah, you good?" Jordan, who stood nearby, instinctively reached to steady her.

Big mistake.

SWOOSH—SHING!

In a flicker of shadows, Alexandria vanished…

…and appeared right behind him.

Her dagger plunged into his side.

"Who. Told. You. To. Touch. Me?" she whispered darkly, twisting the blade.

"Only Adam can do that."

Jordan didn't even flinch. He turned his head slowly, eyes burning with arrogance.

He stared at her like she was a bug.

"Oh? You dare stab me?" he said, voice cold. "You've got some nerves, fangirl."

Power flared from him instantly—like a storm breaking loose.

Lightning crackled in the air. A gust of pressure blasted across the room.

Several weaker leaders nearly fell back in their seats.

Alexandria didn't move. She just grinned.

"You wanna go, spark boy?"

He raised his hand—

"Enough."

Adam's voice echoed with power.

Everyone froze.

Time itself felt like it paused for half a second.

Adam didn't raise his voice. He didn't even move from the podium.

He just looked at them.

"Jordan," Adam said calmly. "Not here. Not now."

Jordan lowered his hand slowly, glaring at Alexandria but saying nothing.

Adam turned to her next.

"Alex, take a seat."

She pouted. "But he—"

"Sit," Adam said again. Not harsh. Just… final.

She sighed and stomped back to her seat like a scolded cat.

Adam looked around the room, scanning all the powerful people seated before him.

"Alright. Now that that's out of the way… let's get started."