Creation Of All Things

The rain came down sideways now—ash, not water.

Nullbreed stood at the heart of what used to be a plaza, his boots half-sunk into a crater where the world had caved in just trying to resist him. Rubble floated midair, trapped in his passive field of distortion. Every breath he took rewrote the tension in space around him. Every blink unraveled laws that once held this city together.

And the heroes…

They were running out.

Scattered across the broken streets, the few who could still stand regrouped. Prism Core limped, dragging two of her fractured light clones back toward cover. Titan Quake's left shoulder was shattered—his arm hung useless as he tried to lift a slab off a wounded teammate.

The sky crackled again.

But this time, not thunder.

It was Nullbreed.

He raised a single hand—and the storm obeyed.

Black lightning ripped through the clouds, arcing downward in a web of destruction. It didn't strike—it peeled. Entire chunks of the city folded upward into the sky like they were made of fabric, not steel and concrete.

Seraphine flared up from the ruins, wings broken but burning brighter than ever. She hurled a divine lance through the maelstrom, the tip spiraling with the last of her stored energy.

Nullbreed caught it.

With two fingers.

And crushed it into stardust.

She stared in horror.

"You should've prayed harder," he said.

Then vanished.

Seraphine spun—too late. He reappeared behind her, drove his hand into her spine, and unmade the energy within. Her glow flickered—then died.

She hit the ground like a falling comet.

Nullbreed kept moving.

He didn't run. Didn't charge.

He just walked—and everything in his path became less real.

Mira saw him coming. Her void-sight blurred. She tried to shout—warn Rhys, Olin, anyone. But her vision collapsed into noise. Her power couldn't comprehend him anymore. He was outside the range of what made sense.

Olin raised his voice again, singing a glyph of disruption. The air buzzed, symbols burned into wind—his strongest seal.

Nullbreed snapped his fingers.

The sound caught in Olin's throat.

The glyph died unfinished.

Olin dropped, throat smoking, voice stolen.

Rhys roared—took the pain of watching his squad fall and stored it. Every nerve that screamed only added to the kinetic stockpile building in his limbs.

He launched.

Fist glowing.

Crater forming beneath his boots.

He landed a blow square in Nullbreed's face.

A shockwave tore through three blocks. Buildings crumbled. Skyscrapers leaned.

Rhys grinned—until he saw Nullbreed still standing.

Not even a bruise.

"You hit hard," Nullbreed said.

Then placed a single finger to Rhys' chest.

And turned off his stored kinetic energy like a switch.

Rhys collapsed. Unconscious.

Vesper tried next—warping gravity, spinning shards of the battlefield into a cyclone. She dove into the eye of it, daggers spinning.

Nullbreed let her.

He stood there as her blades carved toward him—only for the cyclone to freeze midair.

Vesper hovered inches away.

Paralyzed.

Nullbreed whispered, "Fall."

The gravity storm inverted.

It slammed Vesper into the earth so hard the crater caved in and buried her.

Camryn tried to snipe from afar.

Her scope caught his head.

She squeezed the trigger—only to find the bullet had never loaded.

She blinked.

Her weapon dissolved in her hands.

"Gage, fall back!" she shouted.

Her titanium gorilla turned—only to be frozen mid-step. Nullbreed stared at it from across the battlefield.

"You're artificial," he murmured. "You don't belong."

Gage exploded into sparks.

Camryn screamed.

She turned to run—only to find the building under her feet unraveling.

Nullbreed wasn't chasing her.

He was removing her escape routes.

One by one.

And still—some fought.

Kasper sprinted through the alley, pulse emitters glowing on both hands.

He passed Reina, who pulled a line of crystal resonance from a wrecked tram line and restructured it into a spear.

They coordinated—fast, clean, synchronized.

Kasper flashed left—firing neurobursts into Nullbreed's flank. Reina struck right—lobbing the spear from a rooftop.

It hit.

Straight through Nullbreed's back.

He paused.

Looked down.

Then pulled the spear through himself—breaking it in half.

"You should've aimed for each other," he said.

And clapped.

Once.

The shockwave didn't travel outwards.

It inverted.

It slammed inward on them like the world folded into a ball.

They screamed.

And vanished.

Bolt saw it all.

He moved.

Faster than sound. Faster than light. His feet skipped timelines. He tore through broken alleys and shattered air, creating sonic tunnels through the chaos.

His goal? Nullbreed.

One hit. One final, maximum-speed hit.

He built up speed. His body started to burn from friction. Skin peeled.

Didn't matter.

He reached terminal velocity.

And hit.

The force shattered sound.

But Nullbreed didn't fall.

He tilted slightly.

Turned his head.

"Barely above time," he said.

And reversed Bolt's motion.

The speedster flew backward—rewound like tape—until he was a smear on a wall he hadn't touched yet.

Nullbreed kept walking.

He was nearing the final line now.

The Cadre had regrouped—those who hadn't fallen.

Brynn. Kaze. Misha.

And two more: Ezra, who could compress molecular mass, and Toma, who summoned spectral beasts from his heartbeat.

They surrounded him.

They didn't talk.

They struck.

Kaze came first—blades of wind spiraling like drills.

Ezra collapsed space with a hand clap, shoving a black hole into Nullbreed's path.

Misha detonated sigils that had taken hours to prepare.

Toma roared—summoning an ethereal lion twice the size of a bus, its roar cracking glass half a mile away.

And Brynn pulled every magnetic field in a five-mile radius into a single pulse, hurling Nullbreed into the heart of their killbox.

The attacks hit.

All of them.

And the plaza became a crater of dust.

Nothing moved.

Silence.

Then—

A single step.

Nullbreed walked out of the crater.

Coated in burns. Scratched. But smiling.

"You're the best they had."

He raised his hand.

The sigil glowed.

The Cadre readied—one final stand.

But it wasn't an attack.

It was a pulse.

Time fractured.

Their memories bled out of their ears.

And Nullbreed stole their futures.

They dropped.

Not dead.

Not erased.

But broken.

Nullbreed stood alone again.

No music.

No speeches.

Just war—silent and clean.

And far away, in the Endlands, Veylor watched through folded dimensions.

Still waiting.

Still watching.

Still wondering—

Where Adam was.

Because Nullbreed had just done the impossible.

And no god came to stop him.

Not this time.