Water columns hammered from the sky, pounding the earth with unstoppable force. Shockwaves swept across every corner. The flood had no place to drain, forming vortex after vortex until even the columns erupting from the ground were swallowed.
Above it all, the ark hovered, guided by the miraculous crystal. Air flowed perfectly around it, stabilizing the massive vessel. Occasionally, it rose as the water climbed.
Inside, Adam remained silent, gripping the sword hilt at his waist. Tight. Taut. Waiting.
The disaster raged for three full days and nights. Only when the water nearly reached the sky did everything finally calm.
Three days later, the rifts in the sky slowed, draining like faucets. Droplets thinned. Adam squinted, eyes razor-sharp.
"It's time."
He spun around. The crowd parted instinctively. "Stations! Prepare for battle!"
This was no ordinary fight. Their opponent? God Himself.
The ark surged toward a rift where the water flow had slowed.
Adam strode to the bow. One hand on the sword, one on the crystal. Red cape whipping in the wind. Behind him, over a hundred demons led by Pax, over a hundred fallen angels led by Grey, armored humans, three-meter giants, stocky dwarves, fishmen wielding tridents, centaurs with spears—all surged onto the deck.
Adam planted his feet, gaze fixed forward.
Ahead, a four-winged angel blocked the ark. "Adam, remain where you are. Await the Lord's judgment." Contempt burned in his lowered eyes.
Adam lowered his brow, breathed twice, then raised his head.
"OPEN FIRE!"
Below deck, every waterproof window flipped open. Guns, cannons, flamethrowers erupted in synchronized devastation. The four-winged angel was torn apart mid-air, falling into the vortex below.
Thirty years of human innovation, driven by Adam's military-first policy, had borne fruit: rifles, machine guns, burst-fire autocannons—all in the hands of deadly marksmen, especially mixed-blood elves.
Bullets soaked in demon blood shredded immortals. Concentrated firepower tore through angels once thought untouchable.
Golden blood drifted across the deck. Adam wiped it away, eyes fixed on the rift. Even Pax, the infamous demon, stared in shock.
Enemy angels scattered, dodging bullets, circling the ark.
"Hold tight! Accelerating!" Adam gripped the crystal. The ark shot forward like a spear.
Uriel appeared, Seraph of Heaven, leading countless angels. "Sink this vessel!" His longsword and round shield glimmered in divine light.
The ark answered with unrelenting firepower. Golden blood clouded the sky. Angels fell, one by one.
Uriel realized the cost. Hovering at a distance, he raised his sword. Streams of angels surged toward Adam. Dense firepower couldn't stop them entirely.
Adam stood motionless at the bow—the flag, the bait. Only by drawing attacks to the deck could he protect the hull.
Demons swarmed to his side. Grey's fallen angels formed a black winged defense line. Dwarves swung massive axes, giants brought devastating strength. The rear pressed on while the front blocked.
Uriel's fury burned. How could humans, once so weak, now wield such power in mere decades?
Blood and flesh flew. Adam remained unshaken, a calm eye in the storm.
The ark sped toward the rift. Casualties mounted. Finally, Uriel ordered the angels to hold their distance, forming a sphere around the ark with humanity at its center. The warriors on deck took a deep breath.
"Did we win?" Pax stomped through golden blood. "Adam fights better than Lucifer. Though… why no bows or arrows?"
"No. This is only the beginning," Grey reminded him, eyes on Uriel. Four great Seraphs ruled Heaven. Only one had arrived. Reinforcements would come.
The ark pierced the lower clouds. The rift stretched above like a slice in the sky, mist curling at its edges. Beyond it, Adam froze.
A black void, slowly rotating. White patterns shifted like continents peeling apart.
"That's Hell," Pax grinned.
"Earth…!" Eve shouted, climbing the deck with Erin. Adam's eyes widened. Eurasia. Outer space? Eden above the clouds? The rules of reality no longer applied.