"Time to test this ability."
Adam said it with a small smirk.
Ding.
[Anti-Logic Aura]
{Physics, magic, science, reason do not operate around you.
Laws break
Formulas collapse
Cause and effect dissolve
Predictions are impossible
Nothing can process what you are doing.}
Adam almost laughed. "Perfect."
He had enough power to erase the entire region without lifting a finger. He could wipe out everything here so cleanly that even memory wouldn't be left behind.
But where was the fun in that?
He was a fighter. A killer. A man who enjoyed the sound of bones cracking more than any victory speech. He wasn't going to nuke this place. He wanted to use their own weapons on them. He wanted them to look him in the eyes and realize a five-year-old just turned them into a joke.
He wanted them to imagine hell's judge asking:
"How did a child kill you?"
Let them stutter.
Let them feel stupid.
Let them die twice from shame.
And the slaves? They weren't getting spared. Not after seeing the memories of this little boy. The beatings. The insults. The laughter. Every single one of them was going to vanish.
Adam looked at the woman towering over him, still half-transformed, still sure she could crush him if she wanted.
He tilted his head.
"Let's start."
Her fist came first—wide, heavy, and fast for a normal person. But Adam wasn't bound by logic. Timing didn't apply to him. Her fist moved like it was going through mud.
Adam stepped to the side, grabbed her wrist with one tiny hand, and twisted.
A clean snap.
She screamed, stumbling back in shock. "What—what did you—"
Her knees hit the ground.
Adam didn't bother replying.
The guards panicked and rushed him at once, pulling out their blades and staffs. A whole crowd of grown, trained adults charging a five-year-old who didn't even reach their waists.
Adam didn't move until the first blade reached him.
Then everything stopped obeying the world.
He grabbed the guard's wrist, bent it backward, took the man's dagger from his own hand, and stabbed him in the chest in one motion. Before the body hit the floor, Adam threw the dagger like he had been throwing knives for years.
The blade hit the next guard in the throat.
He dropped.
The third came swinging an axe. Adam ducked under the swing, snatched the man's belt knife, flipped it, and dragged it across his Achilles tendon. The guard screamed and fell. Adam kicked his chin as he went down. Neck snapped.
Three seconds. Three bodies.
The woman tried to stand again, growling. Adam kicked her ankle. Another snap. She collapsed.
"Stay down," he said.
Two more guards rushed him with spears. Adam walked straight toward them, hands loose at his sides. The moment the spears came close, they bent away from him like the world itself refused to let them touch him.
The guards froze in shock.
Adam grabbed one spear, broke the shaft, and used the splintered end to stab the first guard through the ribs. He used the same broken spear to jab the second guard in the stomach, then spun behind him, climbed his back, and twisted his neck clean.
The body dropped to the floor while Adam was still climbing down from it.
A guard behind him yelled, "What is he?!"
Another shouted, "Use your talents!"
They tried.
Nothing happened.
Their bodies didn't glow. Their strengths didn't activate. Their speed didn't rise. Their skin didn't harden.
Their talents were dead.
Why?
Because they required logic—
and logic had been murdered the moment Adam said hello.
The guards panicked. "Captain, do something!"
The woman forced her broken body up again, half-shifted, face twisted with pain and rage. "He's disrupting talent flow—kill him! He's a danger to the whole camp!"
Multiple guards threw themselves at him.
Adam stepped forward and met them the way John Wick would—silent, efficient, no wasted movement.
He grabbed one guard's arm and twisted until the bone tore through the skin. Before the man could fall, Adam used him as a shield against another attacker. The incoming blade hit the man's shoulder instead.
Adam stepped in, took the attacker's sword, and cut him from hip to shoulder in one clean slash.
Someone behind him tried a surprise stab. Adam dropped to the ground like he had trained for years, swept the man's legs, then planted the sword straight into his chest as he hit the floor.
The guards were trembling now, backing away. Fear rising.
"He—he's not human."
"He failed awakening! He shouldn't be able to—"
Adam didn't let them finish.
He moved.
A tiny body slicing through a crowd of adults, using their weight, their weapons, their panic against them. He flipped over one man, landed on his shoulders, broke his neck with his legs, rolled off, and threw a sword straight through another man's heart.
Another tried to run.
Adam appeared in front of him like the world simply skipped forward.
He dragged the man's own knife across his throat.
"You shouldn't run," Adam said quietly. "Looks pathetic."
Bodies fell. More guards gathered. More died.
The woman, bleeding and half-shifting, staggered up again. "Stop! Someone get the masters!"
Her scream echoed through the camp.
And that was when the real disaster began.
Slaves poured out of their quarters, confused and yelling. Some pointed at the bodies. Some shouted at the guards. Some grabbed weapons dropped on the ground.
The slave masters came storming down the steps, each armed, each with high-rank talents. They saw the guards dead, the captain down, the slaves panicking.
And then they saw Adam.
The little boy standing in a pool of blood.
Holding a sword twice his size.
Looking bored.
One of the masters shouted, "Who caused this?!"
A guard pointed at Adam instantly. "It's him! He—he broke everything! Our talents won't activate!"
Another slave shouted, "He killed everyone!"
The masters glared down at Adam.
"You little beast," one growled. "You think a child can bring chaos to—"
Adam yawned.
"Oh shut up."
"What did you—"
Adam threw the sword.
It pierced the man's skull.
Silence.
The other masters screamed in rage and charged at him with blades crackling with power—fire, stone, light, wind—everything ignited.
Nothing activated.
Their talents fizzled like sparks in rain.
Adam walked straight through their desperate swings, grabbed one man's arm, ripped it off, and used it to beat the next master across the face. The man fell with half his skull caved in.
Another tried to flee. Adam snatched an axe from the ground, spun it once, and let it fly.
It cleaved the man's back open.
The slaves were screaming now, backing up, unsure if they should run or help.
One older slave stepped forward shakily. "Please… spare us—"
Adam didn't even look at him. "No."
He stabbed him through the chest.
The slaves panicked and ran.
Adam walked after them.
He was fast and slow at the same time—fast enough to appear behind a runner, slow enough to savor the moment he slid a blade between the ribs.
"What are you doing?!" one woman screamed. "We're not—"
Adam slit her throat. "You laughed at the boy in this body. Don't act innocent."
He kicked a man's knee, took his dropped dagger, and cut his throat from behind.
More guards arrived from every corner of the compound. They tried to surround Adam. They tried to form a formation. They tried to shout orders.
None of it mattered.
Adam danced through them like a tiny, murderous shadow—cutting, stabbing, twisting bodies, grabbing weapons out of the air, sidestepping blows before the attackers even completed them.
Blood painted the ground.
Screams filled the air.
Talents refused to respond.
Hope died.
Adam kept walking.
Through bodies. Through panic. Through the collapsing order of the slave compound.
He moved like someone who had butchered gangs twice this size back on Earth and now had a child's body but not a child's mind.
Eventually only one person was left standing.
The captain.
Bleeding. Bones broken. Transformation fading. One eye swollen shut.
She stared at him, barely breathing. "You monster…"
Adam wiped blood off his cheek with the back of his small hand.
"You have no idea."
She tried to crawl away.
Adam stepped toward her.
She screamed, "Stay back—!"
He tapped her forehead with one finger.
Her entire body froze.
"What… what did you…"
Adam sighed. "This was fun."
He raised his hand.
"Tell Hades I said hello."