Creation Of All Things

The wind didn't blow anymore. It cowered.

The city had no skyline now—just jagged wounds of steel, half-burned clouds, and floating debris that circled Nullbreed like he was the center of a dying planet.

He moved forward through the wreckage of heroes, through melted buildings and blood-soaked asphalt. He passed statues made of ash, remnants of defenders frozen mid-scream.

There were no screams now.

Just silence.

A twisted silence that begged for someone—anyone—to stop what walked like a man but moved like the end of everything.

Nullbreed raised his hand again. A small gesture. Simple.

But the sky didn't think so.

A pulse erupted. Reality stretched. And from the clouds, entire storms fell—not rain, not thunder—but broken pieces of what could've been. Fragments of possible timelines shattered as they hit the ground.

Every footstep Nullbreed took pulled at the foundation of the world.

A lone survivor, Brigg, crawled from beneath a collapsed tunnel. One eye swollen shut, his shoulder crushed, his tether line broken. But he stood. Barely.

He looked at Nullbreed.

Raised a broken blade.

Said nothing.

Then charged.

Nullbreed stopped.

Looked at him like a curious child watching a fly try to carry a boulder.

He didn't even raise a hand.

Just blinked.

Brigg stopped mid-run. Froze. His sword dissolved. His muscles locked. Then—his skin turned to static.

He fell, twitching.

Not dead.

Not alive.

Just paused.

Forever.

Nullbreed sighed. "Even time gets tired."

Then he turned toward what remained of the city's core.

The Vault—the underground system that once held the worst villains alive—was buried there. Heroes had tried to defend it. The Cadre. Skyveil. Mira's squad. Vesper's strike unit.

Tried.

Now it was just rubble.

Nullbreed walked to it, cracking the air with every step.

He lifted a single finger.

Pointed.

And the ruins unfolded like a page being turned—stone rising and metal sliding outward, clearing a way to the Vault's ancient core.

That's when the sound hit.

Like wind snapping back into place.

A single voice echoed across the war zone.

"…Did someone forget to put a leash on this guy?"

Nullbreed stopped.

Looked up.

Then to the left.

And there—standing on the edge of a broken tower that shouldn't have been able to hold anyone—

Was him.

Adam.

But not as a god.

Not as a king.

Not as the one who birthed realities.

Just…

Null.

Black hoodie. Loose pants. Hands in his pockets. Hair slightly messy like he overslept. A dumb grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Nullbreed narrowed his eyes.

"…You shouldn't be here."

Adam tilted his head. "Buddy, you shouldn't be here. This is my multiverse. You're like bad furniture I didn't order."

The wind shifted.

Nullbreed raised his hand. His sigil sparked.

Adam's grin faded. Just a bit.

He stepped off the ledge.

Fell.

And the moment his foot touched ground—

The world snapped back into place.

Everything paused.

Nullbreed flinched.

Rubble stopped floating.

The dead air stirred.

Because in that instant, even causality recognized who had returned.

Null walked forward. Calm.

Each step rethreaded fate. Each breath made broken matter pull back into shape.

Nullbreed stared. "I removed you."

"You misplaced me," Adam replied. "Happens to the best of us. I mean, I once lost my shoes in another dimension for a week."

Nullbreed's eyes glowed.

He struck.

A slash of pure erasure—time, energy, memory—cut toward Adam.

Adam didn't dodge.

He raised one hand.

[Reality Override: Causal Anchor]

The beam hit—and stopped.

Like it had just remembered it wasn't allowed to do that anymore.

It fizzled.

Nullbreed blinked.

"…Impossible."

"Yeah, I get that a lot."

And then—

Adam vanished.

Nullbreed spun—only to get decked across the jaw.

One punch.

One hit.

But it sent him flying through three city blocks, tearing apart buildings and smashing through a subway line before hitting ground hard enough to cause a localized earthquake.

Adam appeared beside him, hands still in his hoodie pockets.

"I was hoping for more of a warm-up," he muttered.

Nullbreed rose, wiping blood from his lip. "You cannot exist outside the laws. I broke them. I rewrote everything."

Adam stepped forward.

"Then write this down—"

[Singularity Pressure: Collapse Mode ON]

A dome of golden pressure dropped onto the field. Gravity inverted, time lagged, light bent. Nullbreed tried to move—his foot sank a meter deep into compressed probability.

Adam walked up slowly.

"Let's see how many rules you really broke."

Nullbreed roared.

Fired off three pulses at once—one to erase mass, one to steal names, one to fracture meaning itself.

Adam batted all three aside with a flick.

Then grinned.

And punched him in the gut so hard, the sky cracked.

Nullbreed flew upward—his body breaking through three cloud layers before Adam appeared above him.

[Zero Step: Temporal Negation Blink]

He appeared upside-down and heel-kicked Nullbreed back toward the city.

BOOM.

The ground cratered again.

Adam landed beside the wreck.

Nullbreed lay there, gasping.

His distortion field was broken.

His sigil flickered.

"I killed fifty heroes," he growled. "I erased a hundred more. You're just one."

Adam tilted his head.

"Exactly. One."

He held out his palm.

And the air obeyed.

A storm of golden threads surged out—rewriting the battlefield, pulling erased names back into memory. Reversing the broken fates. Heroes stirred in their sleep. Eyes opened.

Nullbreed stared.

"No… that's not possible—"

Adam's voice cut him off.

"I'm not possible."

And then—

He punched him again.

And this time—

Nullbreed didn't get up.

The sigil dimmed. His form flickered. His distortion collapsed.

Adam stood over him, breathing softly.

Then smiled.

"Next time you borrow someone's apocalypse, at least leave a tip."

And far, far away—

In the Endlands—

Veylor watched.

And for the first time in existence—

He felt something like hesitation.

Because Adam wasn't just back.

He knew now.

Adam had seen him. Felt him.

And he was coming.

But Veylor didn't flinch. Didn't move.

He wasn't worried.

Not yet.

Facing Adam now wasn't part of the plan.

Not when the board wasn't set. Not when the others hadn't awakened.

No—this wasn't the time for a final clash.

This was still the setup.

And Veylor had much more to put in place.

Let Adam come.

Let him chase shadows.

Because when they met again…

It wouldn't be on Adam's terms.