In the grand hall, a deep, almost suffocating silence filled the space as the Ashura King and his trusted general steeled themselves, their massive forms brimming with a fierce resolve. Adams' gaze, however, held only a light, almost whimsical glint, as though the weight of the moment had little bearing on him. His relaxed stance, his ever-present smile—it was as if he were entertaining himself, standing at the precipice of battle with nothing more than mild amusement.
The Ashura King bared his teeth in a fierce snarl, his crimson eyes blazing with wrath. His six muscular arms stretched wide, fingers flexing around the hilts of his weapons. He wore no fear, only the proud confidence of a ruler who had long believed in his own invincibility. "You dare mock the power of the Ashura King?" he thundered, his voice reverberating off the hall's high ceilings, each word a challenge laced with fury. "Today, you will learn what it means to face a true warrior!"
The general beside him, a powerful figure with eyes like molten embers, shifted into a battle stance, muscles rippling beneath his dark, jagged armor. He exhaled, his breath sharp and focused, the first sign of genuine intensity crackling around him. A faint crimson aura flared to life around his frame, thick and heavy with his accumulated power. In his hand, he held a massive, blood-red glaive that pulsed with an inner fire.
Adams tilted his head, his arms still loosely at his sides, his posture effortlessly relaxed, as if the two titans in front of him were nothing more than children pretending at war. "Show me, then," he murmured, the amusement still clear in his voice. "Let's see what the King and his general have to offer."
With a roar that shook the hall, the Ashura King lunged forward, his form a blur of red and black, his fists glowing as he activated his technique. "Ashura's Wrath: Crushing Fist!" His arms blurred, each punch carrying the force of a mountain as he aimed straight for Adams, who only leaned back ever so slightly, avoiding each strike with an almost insulting ease.
The King's face twisted with frustration, and he summoned another attack, his voice booming with power, "Inferno Fang Strike!" Flames burst forth from his fists, the intense heat scorching the stone floor beneath them. The blinding flames rushed toward Adams, yet he sidestepped with a lazy grace, letting the flames lick the air where he had just stood, leaving no sign of effort on his face.
The general joined in with a fierce shout, swinging his glaive in a wide arc that cleaved the very air around it. "Piercing Shadow Cleave!" he called, his weapon cutting through space itself as a dark, jagged rift tore toward Adams. This time, Adams lifted a single hand, catching the weapon mid-swing. His fingers barely wrapped around the glaive's edge, but he held it with such ease that the general's expression morphed into one of disbelief.
The Ashura warriors watching from the sidelines stared, their expressions shifting between awe and horror. "Did... did he just catch it barehanded?" one of them muttered, his voice thick with disbelief.
The Ashura King, not deterred, roared with anger. He pulled back, gathering his aura until it solidified into a brilliant, crimson radiance. "So you think you're untouchable?" he growled. "Then face the might of the Ashura King's Heaven Shattering Barrage!" With a bellow, he unleashed a flurry of attacks, his fists and feet moving with blinding speed, each strike backed by a roaring vortex of power. The ground shook, and the entire palace seemed to tremble under the intensity of the barrage.
Adams smirked, letting his hands fall to his sides as he absorbed the brunt of each attack, his posture as still as a mountain in the face of a storm. When the King paused, breath heaving, Adams simply raised a brow, his smile widening. "Is that all?" he said, his tone almost disappointed.
Adams chuckled softly, his voice carrying a cold, mocking edge. "Oh? Will I?"
The King's fury exploded, and he lunged forward, pouring every ounce of his strength into his attack. His fists blurred, each one a deadly hammer of power aimed directly at Adams. But Adams moved with an almost ethereal fluidity, his body twisting and turning, dodging each strike with a grace that seemed effortless.
He let the Ashura King exhaust himself, letting him throw every punch, every kick, every ounce of fury, without once attempting to retaliate. And when the King's breath began to grow heavy, when his movements started to slow, Adams finally moved.
With a speed that defied reason, he lashed out, a single punch that connected squarely with the King's chest. The impact reverberated through the hall like a thunderclap, and the Ashura King was sent flying back, crashing into the stone wall at the far end of the hall with a force that shook the very foundation of the palace.
The Ashura soldiers gasped, their eyes wide with shock as they watched their king struggle to rise, his breath ragged, his expression one of disbelief and barely-contained rage. He pushed himself up, his body trembling as he faced Adams once more, defiance burning in his eyes.
The Ashura King's muscles tensed, and a fierce, burning defiance lit his eyes, flaring up even as he sized up Adams. The king's lips curled, and his fingers flexed around his weapon in a subtle, instinctive motion, as if bracing himself for a strike. Adams, however, stood there with that knowing, unshaken smile, watching every subtle flicker of resistance in the Ashura's face like a hunter savoring his prey's last desperate act of rebellion.
Adams lifted his hand, a barely noticeable gesture that held all the weight of authority and control. His eyes locked onto the Ashura King's with a steely intensity, his voice smooth but carrying an edge of something infinitely dangerous. "That look in your eyes," he said, his tone rich with mock appreciation. "I almost admire it. But let's be honest—it's just a spark trying to defy a wildfire."
He leaned in, just slightly, and the very air around him seemed to sharpen, as if recognizing the presence of something far greater. Adams' gaze didn't waver, each word laced with an absolute certainty that struck deep, like the swing of a relentless blade. "You're coming at me with all the pride and fury your realm can muster, and yet..." He paused, tilting his head, his gaze softening into something that might have been pity, had it come from anyone else.
Adams's voice softened to a near-whisper, though each word was still as solid and unyielding as steel. "Do you really think any power you summon could even touch me? I am the embodiment of omnipotence itself. To defeat me would be to shatter the very definition of power." His lips curled, revealing a flash of amusement, his tone calm, steady, and unrelenting. "So understand this, Ashura King." He emphasized each word, letting them land with the weight of inevitability. "Every strike you throw, every move you make—it's all just a formality, a dance leading you to the only possible ending."
A subtle tremor passed through the Ashura King's frame as he took in Adams' words, but his resolve remained unbroken. The defiance in his gaze sharpened even further, like steel tempered in fire.