"Why are you destroying everything?" the girl's voice came from behind Jack, soft yet strained with a mix of fear and curiosity as she rode on a cloud just a short distance from him.
Jack, floating in the air ahead of her, didn't turn around. His gaze remained fixed on the chaos unfolding beneath them as his countless clones wreaked havoc, laying waste to cities, mountains, and everything in between. His expression was cold, detached, as if the destruction was nothing more than a chore.
"Because, like I said before," Jack finally replied, his voice flat, devoid of any real emotion. "It's Ragnarok. I'm just doing what I was told to do."
The girl's eyes narrowed as she watched him, her mind racing. There had to be more to this, she thought. No one—especially someone like Jack—would follow orders so blindly. "But why?" she asked, her tone firmer now, pushing for answers. "There must be a reason. The one who sent you wouldn't just tell you to destroy everything for no purpose.
Didn't you ask why?"
At her words, Jack's brow furrowed, though he kept his back to her. A flicker of doubt passed through his eyes, and his grip on his staff tightened slightly. The air around them, heavy with the scent of burning skies and the screams of fleeing deities, seemed to press down harder on him. Why hadn't he asked? Normally, he would have questioned Adams the moment the command was given.
He wasn't one to follow orders without at least knowing the reason behind them. And yet... he hadn't.
The girl noticed the subtle shift in his demeanor—the brief tightening of his shoulders, the slight droop of his head, as if the weight of his actions were finally sinking in. She pressed further, sensing an opening. "I see it too," she said quietly, her voice softer now. "You're wondering why you didn't ask. It's not like you, is it?"
Jack finally looked down, his eyes narrowing as he stared at the destruction below him. His jaw clenched, and for the first time, there was uncertainty in his gaze. His clones continued their work, mindlessly obliterating everything in their path, but Jack himself hovered in place, motionless. He had been so caught up in executing the command, he hadn't even paused to consider why he was doing it.
"No," Jack muttered after a long silence, still not turning to face her. "It's not like me." His voice was lower now, tinged with confusion. "I should've asked." He brought his hand up to rub the back of his neck, a rare gesture of discomfort, as if trying to shake off the gnawing doubt creeping into his thoughts. "I always ask. I always want to know why..."
He finally turned his head slightly, just enough for the girl to catch a glimpse of his profile—a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, but it wasn't one of amusement. It was forced, strained. "Maybe I'm just getting mature," he added with a hollow chuckle, though it lacked any real humor.
The girl's brow furrowed as she watched him, sensing the dissonance between his words and his expression. Something wasn't right. His smile didn't reach his eyes, and the more she looked at him, the more she realized he wasn't truly convinced by his own explanation. Jack was always quick-witted, always challenging authority, never one to follow orders blindly.
And yet here he was, causing mass destruction without a second thought.
"No," the girl said softly, shaking her head, her eyes never leaving him. "That's not maturity, Jack. It's something else."
Jack's smile faded, replaced by a deeper frown as he fell silent once again. He looked ahead, staring into the distance where the horizon burned and crumbled under the might of his clones. A sudden wave of unease washed over him, and for the first time, doubt began to gnaw at the edges of his mind.
Elsewhere
"This is it. My first step to getting my revenge," Adams muttered, his voice carrying a mix of determination and cold fury as he appeared before an enormous door that seemed to float in the void, unattached to any walls. Behind him stood Laden, Aria, Lovigary, and Lokk, all silently watching as their leader took a step forward.
Adams simply smiled—a slow, knowing smile, as if El's challenge was more of a nuisance than a threat. The room seemed to tilt as his calm demeanor contrasted sharply with the rage radiating from El. He let out a soft sigh, as though already bored by what was to come. Slowly, he stretched his arms above his head, rolling his shoulders lazily, his movements languid, almost mocking.
As he moved, his clothes shimmered, subtly shifting in a fluid transformation. The loose, unassuming robes he had worn just moments before tightened, morphing into a sleek, black battle suit that clung to his form like a second skin. The material glistened with an unnatural sheen, pulsating with raw, untapped power. Adams looked down at himself, flexing his fingers as if admiring his own creation.
He seemed utterly at ease, as though this confrontation were nothing more than a mild inconvenience.
"You're right, El," Adams said, his voice soft yet carrying the weight of the world. He cracked his neck, his tone almost conversational. "I'm no Overlord."
El's eyes narrowed, his brow furrowing in confusion as he watched Adams, sensing something off. But before he could speak, Adams continued, his voice turning sharp, each word cutting through the room like a blade.
"And I will never be one."
The calm in Adams' expression vanished, replaced by an intensity that seemed to darken the very air around him. His eyes burned with a cold, unstoppable force. He took a step forward, and the ground beneath his feet trembled, cracks spreading from where he stood as though the Hall itself could barely withstand his presence.
"I will never lower myself to your level, El," Adams said, his gaze piercing. "You Overlords, with all your supposed power, are nothing but relics clinging to a throne that was never yours to begin with."
El's jaw clenched, his muscles tightening as the words sank in. A flicker of doubt crossed his face, but he quickly replaced it with defiance.
Adams took another step, his battle suit humming with energy, an aura of omnipotence swirling around him like a storm waiting to be unleashed. His voice, when it came, was filled with a quiet finality that sent a chill through everyone in the room.
"You can't even begin to measure up to me, El. In my eyes, you're not even an ant. You're beneath that."
The words hung in the air, heavy and undeniable. Adams' eyes gleamed with a terrible light, his lips curling into a smirk. He straightened, the sheer force of his presence pressing down on everyone in the room.
"I am the embodiment of omnipotence."
For a moment, there was silence—oppressive, suffocating silence. El, despite his fury and pride, faltered, his eyes widening slightly as the reality of what stood before him finally began to sink in. Adams wasn't boasting. He wasn't bluffing. He was simply stating a fact.
Around the room, the other Overlords shifted uncomfortably in their seats. Greta, still watching from the shadows, sighed softly, her eyes filled with the weariness of someone who had foreseen this moment and all the futility that would follow.
El, though visibly shaken, clenched his fists tighter, refusing to back down. His pride wouldn't allow it. "We'll see about that," he growled, stepping forward, his aura flaring again in defiance.
But even as he spoke, there was an undeniable shift in the room. A change in the balance of power. One that everyone could feel but none dared to acknowledge.