The boulevard is nothing but molten craters and hurricane fire. Ghost plants his feet, raises Sky heaven-high, and pours every volt of the blade's infinite malice down its length. The edge blooms with a white-violet star—a straight-line cannon that could lance a planet in half.
He swings.
A beam—wide as a city block—scythes toward the horizon.
But Adam hurls himself into its path, crossing forearms.
Eden-flame screams as it meets voidlight.
The street vanishes under a continent-sized shockwave. Buildings flake into dust. Clouds part. For a moment, the blast looks ready to tunnel through the Earth's mantle—
—until Adam absorbs it.
Light funnels into him, incinerating armor, flesh, bone. His skin chars black; white sparks chase along cracked ribs.
When the glare fades, he still stands—steam billowing from blood-slick muscle.
Ghost's Shock
Ghost (voice shredding into static):
"Explain. HOW CAN YOU STILL MOVE?!"
Adam's vision swims. He sees phantom images:
Eve jogging ahead with a lazy wave—Vincent slapping his shoulder—Xiao Ling rushing past with a morning grin.
All of them leaving him behind.
He clenches a ruined fist, taps it once against his heart.
Adam (rasping):
"'Cause I've got grit…! Also—"
A flicker of a smile cuts through the blood.
"If I kick the bucket here… those idiots'll think they can laugh at me!"
He staggers, straightens, flame roaring over his body. Burnt hair blazes blonde, irises flash crimson. Every wound ignites with Eden-fire knitting itself into living armor.
Adam falls into stance; the street beneath his feet fissures into a sun-spoke pattern.
He vanishes—reappears with a fist in Ghost's face.
CRACK! Porcelain explodes, mask fragments scattering like petals.
Ghost answers with a lightning jab—WH-KRAK!—Adam's head whips back, shockwave torching a row of cars.
Both blur, trading comet-punches, each blow detonating a concentric ring of fire. Asphalt liquefies; glass rains upward.
Between strikes, Adam growls through broken teeth:
Adam:
"And there's another thing… If I'm not the strongest—"
(He remembers Eve crossing blades with him on that burning cliff.)
"—I can't call a certain someone my rival anymore!"
He drives a rising uppercut into Ghost's chest. Sky clatters loose. Ghost rockets backward, slamming into the ground so hard a giant crater yawns open, swallowing streetlamps and storefronts.
Standing at the rim, Adam heaves burned breaths, eyes blazing.
Ghost—half-buried, mask in shards—looks up with a red grin of blood.
Ghost (chuckling):
"You draw strength from your comrades, aye… Not bad."
He wipes cracked lips, gets one knee under him.
"But I must admit… it's not my style."
ruin—two legends stood toe-to-toe beneath a sky cracked by fire.
Adam and Ghost, both bloodied, both scorched, both smiling.
Their bodies blurred, clashing at speeds that shredded the atmosphere—
BOOM! WHAM! WH-CRACK!
Each collision sounded like a small star detonating, sending concentric shockwaves tearing through ruined buildings.
Ghost, grinning behind fractured porcelain, twirled Sky like a paintbrush dipped in oblivion, matching Adam's speed inch-for-inch.
But then—
A flicker of light pulsed around Adam's hand.
Adam's Sword
He snapped his arm sideways.
FLASH!
A beam of crimson-gold light erupted from his palm, forming into the hilt of a celestial longsword—its blade forged from pure Eden energy, edged in flame and memory.
The sword sang as it came into form—a chorus of a thousand voices, the will of every comrade he ever fought beside.
Adam (cold, eyes glowing red):
"This ends on my terms."
He swung.
Ghost blocked with Sky, the two legendary weapons screeching against each other, creating a flash that split the sky in two.
As they broke apart and lunged again, both warriors grinned.
Ghost (laughing):
"Yes… YES! This is the dance I've been waiting for!"
Adam (deadpan, barely smirking):
"Hope you're not too old to keep up."
They vanished again.
The battle surged upward into the clouds—two streaks of white and red spiraling like twin meteors, crashing against each other so violently the air combusted around them.
But high above it all—past the blackened skyline and the broken stars—
Adam and Ghost hovered in stillness.
Their blades hummed in their hands.
Their auras scorched the very clouds.
Wind howled. Time seemed to slow.
Ghost raised Sky, the cursed blade pulsing with voidlight and sorrow—etched with a thousand sins from countless worlds.
Ghost (low, reverent):
"This dance ends now."
His eyes, behind the shattered mask, blazed with the thrill of purpose.
Adam, suspended in the air across from him, pointed his Eden-forged sword forward. His blonde hair crackled like fire, and his bloodied expression was calm, unwavering.
Adam (flat and cold):
"Let's finish it."
He shifted into stance, his sword glowing with memories, duty, rage… and hope.
The winds tore around them. A storm circled overhead.
Even time itself felt too fragile to witness what was about to come.
they both moved and charged at each other.
FLASH!
Two streaks of godlike energy—white and red—
clashed midair with a soundless explosion.
The sky cracked.
The ground split open.
The world held its breath.
Their swords met with a force that defied logic—
raw power, speed, and emotion focused into a single, final strike.
The very moment steel met steel, reality folded.
A pulse of light and darkness rippled in all directions, flattening buildings, disarming soldiers, extinguishing spells, and sucking the sound from the world.
For one long, suspended second…
Neither moved.
Then—
A gust of wind blew past.
One figure dropped to a knee.
Blood dripped.
A blade cracked.
And the heavens waited to see who would fall…
Smoke curled from the sky.
The earth below still trembled from the godlike clash that had just split heaven and hell apart.
And within that devastation, Adam stood—blood streaming down his mouth, his legs shaking, lungs burning—but still upright.
Ghost knelt just a few feet away, body scorched, cloak torn, fragments of his porcelain mask littering the ground like broken bones. His breathing was uneven. Sky lay at his side, silent.
A moment passed before Adam coughed violently, blood splashing onto the rubble below. His knees almost buckled, but his pride kept him standing.
Adam (quiet, hollow):
"If you're weak… you can't protect anything."
He took a breath that rattled through a cracked ribcage.
Adam:
"I've slaughtered more people than I can count…
So I never expected to live very long."
He staggered forward—blade still clutched tight, blood trailing behind him.
Adam (voice low, ice-cold):
"But unfortunately for you…"
He looked down at Ghost—who barely lifted his head, smile faint and flickering.
Adam:
"…you lost."
Suddenly, a deep, massive gash split open across Adam's torso.
The final aftershock of their duel.
The strike had cut through his armor, flesh, and soul—but his will alone had kept him standing this long.
His body wavered.
Then he collapsed to one knee.
But just as he raised his sword to finish it—
Zadkiel stood between Adam and Ghost, placing one hand on Adam's chest, stopping him effortlessly.
Adam (quietly):
"Fine…
Do what you want."
He looked Zadkiel in the eyes—eyes that no longer burned with hate, but with something more ancient… and tired.
Adam (turning away):
"He's dying anyway."
And with that, Adam took a slow, limping step back—his sword lowered, the fire around him beginning to flicker out.
Zadkiel looked down at Ghost—his former enemy, now broken, dying, yet smiling.
Zadkiel stood motionless, hand still hovering where it had halted Adam's killing strike.
His voice—raw, cracked, almost child-like—broke the hush:
Zadkiel (hoarse whisper)
"Tell me… Are you my son… Finn?"
The warrior once called Ghost sat slumped against broken masonry, breath ragged.
Slowly—deliberately—he reached to the fragments of porcelain clinging to his face.
With trembling fingers, he peeled away the mask.
Blood trickled down his jawline.
His silver hair bled to midnight black.
Those infamous crimson lenses faded, revealing piercing blue eyes that glimmered with sorrow—and something like relief.
A faint, crooked smile touched his lips.
Ghost—Finn (quiet, almost gentle)
"Hello… Father."
Silence crashed louder than any explosion.
In Zadkiel's gaze, Memories slammed against the walls of his mind:
a child's laugh, a tiny hand tugging his cloak, promises of safety on a night that ended in fire.
Zadkiel's throat worked, but no words came.
Finn's smile wavered, blue eyes glistening.
Finn (soft, exhausted)
"It took you long enough to look past the monster."
A single tear—black as ink—rolled down Zadkiel's cheek.