El's aura flared brighter, casting wild, dancing shadows across the chamber. His gaze locked onto Adams, the air between them crackling with raw power. As he stepped forward, his muscles coiled like a beast ready to pounce, but there was a glimmer of doubt in his eyes—an acknowledgment of the overwhelming presence standing before him.
Adams remained where he stood, utterly still, his battle suit thrumming with barely restrained energy. His cold, unwavering stare pierced through El like a blade, a subtle smirk playing on his lips as if the entire spectacle was beneath his notice. His eyes flicked to the side, scanning the remaining Overlords.
Greta, ever calm, remained seated with her hands folded in her lap, while Eliza—her sapphire eyes bright with interest—stood at the far end of the hall, leaning casually against her throne, watching the unfolding drama with a calculating smile.
Two others, however, did not share their patience. Garin, a towering Overlord of War, with thick, corded muscles and deep scars crisscrossing his bronze skin, slammed his fists together, the impact creating a resounding boom that echoed through the hall. His movements were heavy, each step causing the ground beneath him to shake.
His narrowed eyes were full of fury, his lips curled into a snarl as he squared his stance beside El, clearly eager to support his comrade.
"Enough of this!" Garin's voice was thunderous, every word dripping with aggression. "If he thinks he can waltz in here and challenge us, then let him taste our strength!"
Beside him, Hela, the female Overlord of Shadows, shifted from the darkness, her form seemingly woven from the very night itself. Her pale, ghostly face held no expression as her eyes darted toward El, then Adams. Her silence spoke volumes—she had chosen her side, and like the shadow she commanded, she moved swiftly and decisively, aligning herself behind El and Garin.
The room darkened slightly as Hela's power swirled around her, the shadows of the chamber rising at her command, curling like tendrils around her slender form. Her silver hair shimmered in contrast to the blackness, giving her an ethereal, haunting presence. She said nothing, but the weight of her intent was palpable.
El clenched his fists, his confidence bolstered by the presence of his allies. With a roar, he launched himself forward, the floor beneath him shattering from the force of his movement. His fist, glowing with raw energy, shot toward Adams with terrifying speed.
Adams remained motionless, watching El's approach with disinterest. His lips curled into a smirk as El's punch drew near, and with the flicker of an eyelash, Adams raised a single hand.
Boom!
The collision of El's fist against Adams' palm sent shockwaves through the Hall, cracking the marble floor beneath them. El's face twisted in shock as his full-force blow was stopped effortlessly. Adams didn't budge an inch, his gaze almost pitying.
"Is that it?" Adams said softly, his voice dripping with condescension.
El growled, his pride wounded, and withdrew his hand, only to be met by Adams' counter. A single flick of Adams' wrist, and El was sent flying back, crashing into the far wall with a deafening crack. Dust and debris filled the air as El struggled to regain his footing, his chest heaving with a mix of pain and disbelief.
Garin's rage ignited at the sight of his comrade being tossed aside so easily. With a roar, the Overlord of War charged, his massive fists glowing with an aura of violent power. Each of his strikes tore through the air like cannon blasts, aimed squarely at Adams' head.
Adams sidestepped the first punch with effortless grace, his movements almost lazy, his expression unchanged. Garin's second strike, infused with all his war-born strength, came faster, but Adams merely leaned back, his body moving just out of range as Garin's fist sailed past his face.
"You call yourself the embodiment of Omnipotence," El growled, his voice low and guttural as if it took every ounce of strength to speak. His muscles tensed, his frame growing more rigid with each passing second. Energy radiated from him in waves, and the air around him shimmered with the sheer intensity of his power. "But I..."
His body jerked forward as his aura exploded outward in a blinding flash of light, rippling through the chamber with ferocious intensity. His energy, raw and unrestrained, lashed out like a beast finally freed from its chains, wild and untamable. The Overlords who supported him flinched, the shockwaves forcing them to brace themselves against the walls, their expressions a mixture of awe and fear.
El's face twisted with both pain and exhilaration as his aura spiraled out of control, turning into a force of nature. His expression was a grim mask of defiance, but beneath that, there was something more—a hint of desperation, a flicker of uncertainty in the depths of his eyes.
"I am the embodiment of Wrath," El declared, his voice now a thunderous roar that echoed through the Hall. His words carried the weight of his fury, each syllable reverberating through the air like a drumbeat of impending doom. His aura, now fully unleashed, surged around him, twisting and thrashing like a tempest, crackling with destructive energy.
His body trembled under the strain of his transformation, veins bulging along his arms and neck as the power coursed through him. His teeth were bared in a fierce snarl, his features contorted in a mix of rage and agony, yet there was an unmistakable fire in his gaze—one that spoke of unyielding determination.
Adams stood still, his expression calm and impassive, as if El's transformation were merely a passing inconvenience. His eyes narrowed slightly, observing the chaotic swirl of energy surrounding his opponent, but his posture remained relaxed, his arms hanging loosely at his sides.
There was no hint of fear or concern in his demeanor—only a cool, calculating gaze as he watched El burn with the force of his rage.
The Overlords loyal to El moved to support him, their expressions steeled with resolve. One, a male with silver hair and glowing eyes, raised his hand, his energy flaring in response as he prepared to join the fray. Another, a female Overlord with fiery red hair and a sharp, angular face, gritted her teeth, her aura shimmering with power as she stepped forward.
El's chest heaved with labored breaths, his body thrumming with unbridled energy as he finally stood tall, his fists still clenched tightly at his sides. His aura blazed around him, a maelstrom of fury and destruction, but even amidst the chaos, there was a glint of triumph in his eyes.
"I won't bow," he spat, his voice hoarse but unbroken, his gaze locked onto Adams with fierce determination. "Not to you. Not to anyone."
The room trembled under the weight of his defiance, his wrath filling the air like a storm on the verge of breaking. The Overlords behind him stood ready, their own auras flaring in support of their leader, but the tension between El and Adams hung heavy in the air, a palpable force that seemed to press down on everyone present.
And yet, through it all, Adams merely smiled—a slow, almost amused smile. The flicker of cold amusement in his eyes was unmistakable as he watched El struggle, watched him burn with the force of his own rage.
For a moment, there was silence—only the sound of El's labored breathing and the crackle of his aura filling the space between them.
And then Adams spoke, his voice low and quiet, yet carrying an undeniable weight. "Wrath, you say?" His smile widened, but it was empty, devoid of any warmth. "Is that what you believe will save you?"
El snarled, but there was a hesitation in his gaze, the faintest flicker of doubt in his eyes as he faced the man before him—the man who had shattered the very concept of power, who stood before him as the embodiment of something far beyond his comprehension.
But El, fueled by his wrath, refused to back down. His aura surged again, filling the chamber with its destructive force as he let out a roar, his eyes blazing with rage. He charged forward, fists raised, ready to strike with the full weight of his power.
And Adams—his expression still calm, still cold—simply waited.