Adam floated in silence, still grinning like a maniac, hair fluttering gently from the sheer pressure of their last clash.
Jordan cracked his neck and rolled his shoulders. His skin shimmered again, more stable now. Every inch of damage he had taken was fading. The realm was healing him without meaning to. He had adapted not just to Adam—but to the dimension itself.
Adam saw it.
And for a moment, his smile twitched.
"You're syncing," he muttered. "With my world."
Jordan shrugged. "You invited me in."
Then he launched forward.
Fists like meteors.
Adam met him halfway—not teleporting, not phasing. Just raw movement. Fast. Brutal.
They clashed.
Again.
And again.
And again.
Each blow sounded like thunder ripping the seams of the universe. Cracks ran across the skies. The black sphere in the distance pulsed erratically now, unable to handle the pressure.
