"Resilience?" Belial whispered, the word tasting like ash in his mouth.
He watched the sixteen clones with predatory intensity. He could feel it now, the subtle shift in the air, the way the clones were no longer just reacting to his strikes, but predicting the vibration of his muscles before he even moved.
They were no longer mere puppets under his control; they were learning. They were adapting to the Truth of his combat style.
'Just like him,' Belial thought, his gaze flickering momentarily to the stoic figure of Adam.
Memory, sharp and bitter, bubbled up from the abyss of his mind. He remembered the First Era, the age when the Demon Lords were the ones being hunted across the multiverse by the Void Born Gods.
He had feared Adam back then, not just because of the man's raw strength, but because Adam's existence was a conceptual anchor. Adam was so 'True' so fundamentally grounded in the Law of Growth, that Belial's Lies often slid off him like water off a diamond.
