The Omnipotent System

Adams stood over the battered form of El, his expression as cold as the void between stars. His gaze flicked downward, watching the once-mighty Overlord cough and sputter in a pool of his own blood. The silence in the Hall of Eternity was suffocating.

The faint crackle of energy that lingered in the air from their battle began to dissipate, leaving a tension so thick it felt as though it would shatter at any moment. The Overlords who had sided with El—the ones who had placed their hopes in his defiance—stood frozen, their faces pale and trembling.

Adams straightened his posture, the air around him crackling faintly with power, as though the universe itself recognized his dominance. Slowly, deliberately, he turned his head, his sharp eyes locking onto the remaining Overlords. They stiffened under his gaze, fear bleeding into their eyes. Adams' lips curled into a smirk, an expression that held no warmth, only disdain.

It was the smirk of a predator who enjoyed toying with its prey.

"Pathetic," Adams muttered, the single word laced with contempt.

One of the Overlords, Garin, a hulking brute with stone-like skin, took an involuntary step back. His once-imposing form now seemed small, insignificant under the weight of Adams' gaze. Sweat beaded down his forehead, and he glanced nervously at his companions. Hela, normally composed and ethereal, was trembling in the shadows, her eyes wide with disbelief. She had never seen anything like this.

None of them had. They had thought themselves gods, beings beyond the reach of anything. But Adams… Adams was something far more terrifying.

With a slow, deliberate movement, Adams raised his hand, the smirk on his face deepening as he curled his fingers together. The sound of cracking joints echoed through the hall. Then, with a single snap of his fingers, the world seemed to collapse around the remaining Overlords.

Their eyes bulged in shock and horror as their bodies seized up, their mouths opening in silent screams as agony tore through them. Garin's massive hands clawed at his chest, his face contorted in pain as veins bulged across his thick neck. His skin, once as hard as rock, began to bubble and blister, the heat from inside him rising to unbearable levels.

He dropped to his knees, his mouth agape in a silent wail. Hela, now fully visible in the dim light of the hall, crumpled to the floor, her ethereal form flickering as her skin began to crack and burn.

Their bodies convulsed, their internal organs boiling from within. The smell of burning flesh filled the air, acrid and thick, as one by one, the Overlords began to crumble. Their screams, once muffled, now echoed through the hall, reverberating off the stone walls like the wails of the damned.

Garin's flesh melted away, his bones charred to blackened cinders before he finally collapsed, his once-mighty form reduced to a pile of ash. Hela followed soon after, her figure dissolving into nothingness as her final scream of anguish faded into silence.

Adams watched it all with a detached gaze, his hand still raised, fingers poised as though he were conducting a symphony of death. His smirk widened as the last of the traitorous Overlords disintegrated, their ashes swirling in the faint breeze that now filled the room.

With a flick of his wrist, Adams lowered his hand and let out a small, almost bored sigh. His eyes scanned the hall once more, finally landing on the few Overlords who remained unscathed—Greta, the Sage Overlord, and Eliza, along with a shadowed woman who had not yet revealed herself fully.

Greta, her silver eyes flickering with barely concealed terror, stood frozen in place. Despite her status as a Sage Overlord, a being known for her wisdom and foresight, she had underestimated Adams' power. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, though she fought to keep her composure. Her normally serene features were strained, her lips pressed into a thin line as she held Adams' gaze.

There was no defiance left in her, only grim acceptance.

Adams, still smirking, let his eyes rest on her for a moment, watching as her resolve wavered under the weight of his scrutiny. Finally, he spoke, his voice smooth and cold.

"You have been pardoned," he said softly, his tone deceptively gentle. "But for you to keep your life… you must do something to earn it."

Greta's eyes flickered, the tension in her face easing only slightly. She knew what was coming, and there was no point in resisting. Her head dipped in a respectful nod, her long, white hair cascading over her shoulders like a waterfall of moonlight. Her expression, though still tight, softened into one of reluctant submission.

"I know what you want," she murmured, her voice low but steady.

Adams raised an eyebrow, a faint chuckle rumbling from his chest. "Good. Then I don't have to waste my breath."

Greta turned to face her fellow Overlords, her expression now calm and resolute. Eliza, who had been standing beside her, gave a quick nod of understanding. The two shared a glance, an unspoken agreement passing between them. Greta's gaze then swept over to the shadowed woman, who gave the faintest inclination of her head, her face obscured by the darkness that seemed to cling to her form.

"Let us go to the Ashura Plane," Greta declared, her voice firm and commanding now. "And turn it upside down."

With those words, her form shimmered, breaking apart into particles of light that drifted into the air. Eliza followed suit, her figure dissolving into a faint glow, as did the shadowed woman. The three Overlords, united in their task, vanished from the hall in an instant, leaving only the faint traces of their energy behind.

For a moment, there was nothing but silence.

Adams remained still, his eyes fixed on the spot where they had stood, his smirk fading into something more unreadable. He allowed the silence to linger, as if savoring the emptiness left in the wake of their departure. Then, slowly, his gaze shifted downward, landing once more on the broken form of El.

El lay motionless in the crater he had created, his body a wreck of bruises and blood. His breathing was shallow, ragged. His once proud aura was reduced to a flicker, barely clinging to life. His face, which had once been full of defiance and fury, now held only defeat. He stared up at Adams, his eyes bloodshot and unfocused, yet somehow still holding a spark of awareness—a spark of hatred.

Adams crouched beside him, his movement slow, deliberate. He rested his forearms on his knees, leaning forward slightly so that his face hovered just above El's. There was no malice in Adams' gaze, only a chilling indifference, as though he were staring at a curious insect pinned beneath his boot.

"And you," Adams said, his voice soft but dripping with condescension, "as for your punishment… I won't kill you. Not yet."

El's lips twitched, a faint snarl pulling at the corner of his mouth, but he was too weak to speak.

"No," Adams continued, his tone growing colder. "Killing you would be merciful. Instead, I'm going to make you a pariah. I'm going to let you live… long enough to watch me ascend to the one thing you'll never attain."

El's eyes widened, a flicker of panic flashing across them.

"You'll watch," Adams said, his voice a mere whisper now, "as I sit on the throne of the Omniverse, and everything beneath my feet—including you—will be nothing but dust."

El's breath hitched, the full weight of Adams' words sinking in. The spark of hatred in his eyes flared for a moment, but it was drowned out by the overwhelming despair that now filled him.

Adams stood slowly, towering over El's broken body like a god looking down upon a fallen mortal. He gave one final glance at El, his smirk returning, then turned his back to him, walking away with the same calm, confident stride he had always had.

El could do nothing but watch, powerless and defeated, as the man who had shattered his dreams disappeared into the distance.

Elsewhere

Eliza let out a long, shaky breath as the tension finally left her body, her shoulders sagging. She ran a hand through her dark hair, her fingers trembling slightly, and leaned against the cold stone wall beside her. "So, we actually escaped death back there," she muttered, her voice laced with disbelief.

Her violet eyes still held a flicker of fear, as if the shadow of Adams' presence still loomed over them.

The Sage Overlord, standing beside her, stroked his long silver beard thoughtfully, his ancient eyes narrowing in deep contemplation. He tilted his head slightly, the wrinkles in his face deepening as if carved from stone over countless centuries of wisdom. "True," he murmured, his voice a low rumble, "that was all thanks to Greta. She knew exactly what had to be done...

and how to steer us away from a fate more dreadful than anything we've ever faced." His words were calm, but the faint tremor in his hand as he stroked his beard betrayed the gravity of the situation they had just escaped.

The Shadow Overlord, lingering in the dim corners of the room, emerged from the darkness, his form still half-obscured by the lingering shadows that clung to him like a second skin. His eyes gleamed with cynicism, his mouth twisting into a wry grin.

"So, all that mumbo jumbo about us dying at the hands of the One Above All… all just gibberish, huh?" His voice dripped with sarcasm, though his eyes flickered with unease, his shadowy form seeming to shift restlessly, as if even now he couldn't quite believe they had survived.

Greta, who had been staring silently into the distance, finally spoke, her voice low and reflective, as if she was still processing the sheer enormity of what had happened. Her sharp, piercing eyes were clouded with thought, her expression one of quiet awe mixed with lingering fear.

She turned her head slightly, her gaze catching the distant void outside their sanctuary, the vast, empty expanse a reflection of her own turbulent thoughts.

"No," Greta said softly, shaking her head, her silver hair catching the dim light and shimmering like moonlight on water. "We could have died. Every one of us. And he knows it. I saw it. I felt it." Her voice trembled slightly as she spoke, but her eyes remained steady, as though locked onto some unseen horizon.

"But…" she hesitated, her brow furrowing as she tried to grasp the enormity of it, "he decided to play with my foresight. He… changed everything. It was as if the future I saw—the one where we perished—meant nothing. Like destiny, like predestined events, were nothing more than suggestions to him."

The Sage Overlord glanced at her, his eyes widening with dawning realization. His lips parted slightly as if to speak, but no words came. Instead, he simply nodded, acknowledging the truth of what she said. His ancient face, usually so composed, now bore the faintest trace of fear—something that hadn't touched him in millennia.

Greta continued, her voice quieter now, almost as if speaking to herself. Her gaze remained fixed on the void, her lips tightening as she tried to make sense of the chaotic forces she had witnessed. "He's the greatest anomaly in the entire multiverse. Nothing—no fate, no prophecy—can bind him. He simply decides what will be. And the multiverse...

bends to his will."

Eliza, who had been pacing in the background, stopped mid-step and turned to face Greta, her eyes wide with disbelief. "You're saying he... what? Manipulated your foresight? As if the future you saw was just a... game to him?" Her voice cracked, a mixture of awe and fear.

Greta nodded slowly, the weight of her words pressing down on the room. "Yes," she whispered, her voice carrying a heavy certainty. "To him, all of time and space... all the realities that exist... they are his to shape, mold, and change at will. I thought I knew how this would end.

I thought my foresight was infallible. But he... he unraveled it with just a single decision. He is beyond what any of us could ever comprehend."

The Shadow Overlord, who had been silently watching from the corner, let out a low whistle, shaking his head in disbelief. "So… we were never really in control, were we?" His voice, usually mocking, was now laced with a rare trace of fear. "Not even for a second."

Greta's lips pressed into a thin line as she nodded again, her eyes darkening with the realization. She closed her eyes for a moment, as if the weight of the truth was finally settling on her shoulders. "No," she said softly, her voice barely a whisper. "Not even for a second."

The silence that followed was heavy, filled with the unspoken dread of what they had just witnessed. The Sage Overlord, ever the voice of wisdom, finally spoke, his tone subdued, almost reverent. "If this 'One Above All' can toy with fate itself... then we are mere leaves in the wind before him."

Eliza hugged her arms to herself, her usual confident demeanor shattered. "So... what now?" she asked, her voice small, filled with uncertainty.

Greta, after a long pause, exhaled deeply and finally tore her gaze from the void. She looked at each of them in turn, her eyes sharp and determined. "Now? We go to the Ashura Plane... and we do as he commands. If we want to live, if we want any semblance of control over our fates, we must do what he wants.

We cannot resist him. Not now."

The other Overlords exchanged glances, and one by one, they nodded in grim agreement.

Greta's form shimmered faintly as she prepared to leave, her body beginning to dissolve into particles of light, but before she fully vanished, she turned back one last time. Her eyes locked with Eliza's, the faintest flicker of emotion crossing her face—regret, perhaps, or fear of the unknown. "Whatever happens next... we must tread carefully," she said softly, her voice carrying an ominous warning.

"We're in the presence of something far greater than us."

With that, Greta vanished, her form dissolving into shimmering particles that faded into the air. Eliza, the Sage Overlord, and the Shadow Overlord followed suit, each one disappearing in a similar fashion, their forms becoming one with the void they had been staring into moments before.

And then, there was nothing but silence.