The Omnipotent System

Adams barely finished his sentence when the air grew heavy again, pressing down on everything like a massive weight. The gods, who had just started to relax, froze in place, their senses flaring with alarm.

The space where Oblivion had vanished suddenly twisted and pulsed, rippling with unnatural energy. Darkness poured back into existence, not as a slow trickle but a violent flood, swallowing the light Adams had unleashed.

The gods stared in disbelief as Oblivion reassembled itself, the nothingness it represented knitting back together faster than the eye could follow. The void swirled and condensed, shrinking rapidly until it was no longer a formless storm but something terrifyingly familiar—a humanoid figure.
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The air around it stilled, unnaturally quiet, as if even sound feared to approach. The being floated there, its form pulsating faintly, as though struggling to contain the raw absence of existence within.

It stepped forward.

The humanoid Oblivion stood tall, almost the same height as Adams, yet its presence felt boundless. Its skin wasn't really skin at all—it was an ever-shifting void, blacker than the deepest shadows, dotted with faint, pulsing lights like stars in a dying galaxy. Its "eyes" were hollow voids, not glowing but drawing light into them, making anyone who looked feel as if they were falling into eternity.

Its head was featureless, smooth and oval-shaped, save for faint ripples that shifted like waves on water. Where its mouth should've been, a subtle distortion existed, like a crack in reality, bending light and space.

The being's limbs were long and slightly distorted, their edges flickering like they weren't fully tethered to the material plane. Each movement it made left faint trails of nothingness behind, as though reality itself struggled to fill the gaps it left in its wake.

And yet, despite its monstrous appearance, there was a strange elegance to it. Its movements were fluid, purposeful, almost unnervingly human.

The gods could feel it. This wasn't the Oblivion they'd seen moments ago. This was something… worse. It wasn't just a force of nature anymore—it was aware.

Adams narrowed his eyes, watching the transformation in silence.

The humanoid Oblivion tilted its head, as if studying him. Then, for the first time, it spoke. Its voice wasn't a sound but a vibration, deep and resonant, crawling into the bones of everyone present.

"You think creation is permanent? That what you built can last forever? Foolish."

Its words weren't a threat. They were a statement of fact, delivered with the weight of something that had seen countless universes rise and fall.

Adams smirked faintly. "So, you've decided to talk now. Was getting erased that much of a wake-up call?"

The figure didn't respond right away. Instead, it took another step forward, the ground beneath it fracturing and vanishing into nothingness with every move.

"I am Oblivion," it said simply. "What you destroy, I remake. What you create, I unmake. I am the cycle you cannot escape."

The gods shuddered at the words, feeling their divine powers waver again. Even now, with its humanoid form, Oblivion's presence seemed to erode everything—thought, will, existence itself.

But Adams stood firm, his smirk never faltering. "Nice speech," he said, rolling his shoulders. "But you've got it backward."

He raised his hand, summoning his blade of existence again. The gods braced themselves, knowing the battle was far from over.

The air between Adams and Oblivion crackled with tension, heavy with power neither words nor thoughts could fully grasp. The gods stood frozen, their eyes darting between the two. Every muscle in their divine bodies screamed at them to run, but their pride held them in place. They had to see this through, even if it broke them.

Adams gripped his blade tightly, its edges humming with the same essence that forged reality itself. Oblivion took another step forward, its form rippling as though struggling to hold itself together.

Then, without warning, they moved.

Oblivion struck first. It blurred forward, closing the distance in an instant, its elongated arm lashing out like a whip of void. Adams sidestepped effortlessly, his body flowing like water as the arm smashed into the ground. A crater erupted beneath them, but instead of debris, there was… nothing. The earth simply ceased to exist where Oblivion touched.

Adams countered, his blade flashing upward in an arc of brilliant light. The strike should've severed Oblivion clean in two, but the void absorbed the blade, bending and twisting around it like smoke around a flame.

"Interesting," Adams muttered, yanking the blade free and spinning into another attack. This time, he aimed for Oblivion's center, moving faster than the gods could track.

Oblivion's chest rippled as the blade pierced through, but instead of recoiling, it leaned forward, its void-like body flowing along the blade like liquid. Its featureless face was mere inches from Adams's.

"Creation cannot harm what is not bound by it," Oblivion's voice echoed in Adams's mind, its tone calm but absolute.

Adams smirked. "Guess we'll see about that."

His free hand shot out, glowing with raw energy. He slammed it into Oblivion's chest, and the resulting explosion tore through the battlefield. The shockwave sent the gods sprawling, even Zeus falling to one knee as the ground shook violently.

When the dust settled, Adams stood firm, his blade at his side. Oblivion floated several meters away, its form flickering but intact.

"You're tougher than you look," Adams said, rolling his neck. "But let's see how you handle this."

He vanished.

The gods barely registered his movement before he reappeared above Oblivion, his blade descending like a meteor. The strike carved a glowing fissure into the ground, splitting the void-like figure in half.

But Oblivion didn't fall. Its two halves swirled and reformed instantly, arms stretching outward like tendrils. They lashed at Adams in rapid succession, forcing him to dodge and parry with precision. Each strike from Oblivion seemed to unmake pieces of reality, leaving gaping voids in its wake.

Adams flipped backward, landing gracefully. He thrust his blade into the air, and the entire battlefield responded. Pillars of energy erupted from the ground, each one slicing through Oblivion's form. The void twisted and convulsed, but again, it reformed, unaffected.

"Gotta admit," Adams said, spinning his blade. "You're stubborn."

Oblivion didn't reply. It surged forward again, its movements erratic but calculated. One arm morphed into a jagged blade of darkness, clashing against Adams's weapon with a soundless impact. Sparks of light and shadow exploded from the clash, scattering across the battlefield.

The fight became a blur of motion. Adams and Oblivion moved faster than the gods could comprehend, their strikes tearing through the fabric of reality itself. Each blow from Adams sent ripples of creation surging outward, mending the destruction left in Oblivion's wake.

Oblivion adapted with every strike, its form constantly shifting to counter Adams's attacks. When Adams lunged with a thrust, Oblivion's body split apart, letting the blade pass harmlessly through before closing in like a trap.

Adams grinned, teleporting out of the trap just before it could close. He reappeared above Oblivion, raining down blasts of energy that lit up the sky like falling stars.

Oblivion raised a hand, and the stars were consumed mid-flight, disappearing into its void-like form. Then, with a simple gesture, it unleashed a shockwave that sent Adams hurtling backward.

Adams landed on his feet, skidding to a stop. "You're starting to get annoying," he said, his tone almost playful.

Oblivion tilted its head. "And yet, you persist."

The two charged at each other again, their clash igniting the battlefield. Adams's blade met Oblivion's shifting strikes in a storm of light and shadow. They moved across the battlefield, each strike creating craters and ruptures in space itself.

At one point, Oblivion extended its arm, forming dozens of jagged spikes that shot toward Adams like spears. Adams spun his blade in a wide arc, deflecting the spikes with ease. He retaliated with a series of slashes so fast they seemed to come from all directions at once.

Oblivion absorbed the blows but countered with a wave of nothingness, forcing Adams to leap into the air. The void followed him, stretching upward in an attempt to consume him.

Adams grinned, flipping mid-air and hurling his blade straight into Oblivion's center. The weapon embedded itself deep, and for a moment, Oblivion froze.

The gods leaned forward, holding their breaths.

But then Oblivion's form convulsed violently. It reached up, pulling the blade free with ease. The void around it rippled as it crushed the weapon in its grip.

Adams raised an eyebrow. "Not bad."

He summoned the blade back to his hand, its form reassembling instantly.

The battle raged on, neither side gaining a clear advantage. Adams's attacks grew more creative, his strikes bending the laws of physics themselves. Oblivion, in turn, adapted with every move, its form becoming more efficient, more dangerous.

Hours seemed to pass in moments as the two titans clashed. The gods could do nothing but watch, their divine pride dwarfed by the sheer scale of the battle.

Finally, the two combatants stopped, standing a few feet apart. Adams's blade rested on his shoulder, his breathing steady. Oblivion's form flickered, its edges unstable but unyielding.

"You're persistent, I'll give you that," Adams said with a smirk.

"And you are flawed," Oblivion replied.

Neither moved, the tension between them thick as the silence stretched. The gods could only wonder what would happen next.