The breath came easy now.
Not like when I first woke in this body—every inhale then felt like swallowing fire. But now, after months of guided reconstruction and meditation, I felt… calm. Whole. Powerful.
"Download of remaining data: complete," Eden's voice echoed smoothly inside my skull. "Chakra flow is stable. Neural pathways optimized. Body integrity: ideal parameters. You are now operating at 87% of total potential."
I opened my eyes. The faint green shimmer of chakra danced across my arms like heat rising off a forge. I felt it—warm and alive—flowing through my spine, coiling through my limbs like a second circulatory system.
I smiled.
"Looks like the gods didn't sever this man's future hard enough."
"They never accounted for you, Adam."
I stood up, brushing dust from my chest. "Damn right they didn't."
The first order of business was a home.
Not just a shelter—no, I needed something permanent. A sanctum. A place to build, to train, to plan. So I wandered.
The Garden of Eden was vast, its beauty both surreal and deceptive. Trees older than memory towered over streams clear as glass, and beasts with no fear of man strolled freely beneath golden canopies. But I wasn't looking for peace.
I wanted seclusion.
Eden guided me with her internal compass, filtering landscape scans through infrared and sonar until we found it: a narrow crack in a cliff face, hidden by moss and brush.
"Looks like nothing from the outside," I muttered, running my fingers over the stone.
"Initiating low-light mode."
My vision adjusted instantly. What had been darkness lit up in a soft blue glow. The tunnel expanded after twenty feet, and then—
I stepped into a cavern the size of a cathedral. A domed ceiling covered in glowing lichen. Stone walls thick enough to hide a kingdom. A perfect forge in the making.
"…Yeah. This'll do."
The days became months.
The first thing I built was a stone axe. Then a hammer. Then chisels and shovels. Every tool I made led to another—better, sharper, smarter. Eden fed me schematics and blueprints straight from the Inventor's Guide, whispering secrets from thousands of brilliant minds.
At sunrise, I hunted. At noon, I gathered. At night, I built.
Stone by stone, I carved out a home at the cave's mouth—a sturdy log cabin with a chimney, hand-pounded nails, and thatched roofing. It wasn't elegant. It was efficient. Safe.
Stairs carved into the cavern floor led to the heart of my stronghold.
I built:
A blacksmith's forge from clay bricks and iron ore.
A smelting pit with a bellows system powered by a foot-treadle.
Workbenches and anvils.
A straw-filled sparring dummy shaped like a man.
A meditation shrine built of obsidian and bone.
The land was generous. Animals came back no matter how many I fell. Every beast I hunted offered its hide and meat, its bones and tendons. I cured leather, tanned hides, and stitched myself a wardrobe from nothing but instinct and information: dark tunic, leather breeches, hardened boots. A cloak, even—because I liked the drama.
I didn't speak much during that time. I let my hands do the talking. But Eden kept me company. Whispering formulas. Calculating effort. Sometimes, when I felt like pretending I wasn't alone, I asked her things she couldn't answer—like what my mother would've thought of this path, or whether I still deserved the name "human."
She stayed silent during those moments.
And I appreciated that.
It was over a year later when I finally stood before the forge, everything prepared for the weapon I'd envisioned since the Tower.
"Metals and materials confirmed," Eden said. "You may begin the forging process."
"Let's do this."
I melted the metals in stages. Temperature control was critical. I can't share the ingredients to make Adamantine, but I can say that it is a very dangerous process.
Hammering the billet took three full days.
Each strike was a meditation, a hymn, a war cry. My muscles burned. My chakra flared with every beat, flowing through me and into the steel like blood into a heart.
When it was ready, I quenched it—not in water, but in the blood of a predator, a massive white lion I had hunted and honored. The blade hissed as it cooled, turns out that using blood instead of water allows the blade to become far sharper
The final product was unlike anything I'd ever held.
A Jian—double-edged, four feet long, with a braided leather grip and a dragon-shaped pommel. The blade shimmered like oil under moonlight, glowing faintly with internal energy.
The sheath? Same metal, laced with treated methuselah bark. Sturdy. Silent. Efficient.
I held the sword out in front of me, testing its weight, its balance. It sang when I moved it—like it wanted blood, but would settle for discipline.
"Welcome to the family," I whispered.
"Weapon class: Divine. Power source: Adamantine. Weapon registered."
I sheathed it.
Took a breath.
And then I frowned.
"…Am I forgetting something?"
Eden's voice sharpened. "Warning: fast-approaching lifeform. Distance: 32 meters. Female. Elevated heart rate. Human."
I moved before I could think. Muscle and instinct in sync.
In one smooth motion, I rose from the forge bench, hand snapping to the hilt of the Jian. I spun, pivoting on my heel, and drew—
The blade hummed as it left the scabbard, cutting the air with surgical grace.
I stopped it an inch from her neck.
She stood there—barefoot, hair wild and wind-tangled, dirt smudged on her skin like war paint. Her eyes burned like they always had—defiant and too damn curious for her own good.
Lilith.
She didn't flinch.
Just stared down the length of my blade, her expression caught between recognition and uncertainty.
"How did you find this place?" I asked quietly.
She didn't answer at first. Her eyes weren't on the sword—they were on me.
"You're not Adam," she said finally, voice low and cautious. "You look like him but you are far taller and muscular... and you seem far too smart to be him."
I said nothing.
The silence stretched.
Then a smirk pulled at my lips—sharp, humorless.
"No," I said. "I'm the man who killed him."
She blinked, taken aback. Her brow furrowed. "Wait… are you serious?"
I held her gaze for a long moment, then sheathed the blade with a slow, clean motion. The sound of steel sliding home echoed through the cave.
"Technically? Yeah." I turned my back to her, walking toward the still-glowing forge. "Took over his body. Hijacked it. The original Adam? He's gone. Just me now."
I picked up the hammer again, more out of habit than need. The silence behind me stretched as I watched the coals flicker.
She didn't speak. Not right away.
And I didn't turn around.
Because part of me still didn't trust her.
Because part of me wondered if I should've finished the draw.
Lilith stared at me for several seconds. Her lips twitched—not in horror, not in rage.
Relief.
"Oh, thank the void," she said, throwing her arms up. "That bastard was insufferable."
I raised an eyebrow. "That bad, huh?"
She stalked past the entrance and flopped down on a bench I had carved. "All he ever did was sleep, eat, and follow orders like some housebroken mutt. God says sit? He sits. God says name the animals? He names, like, one bird—calls it a pigeon of all things—then throws the rest on me!"
I blinked. "Wait, you named the rest of the species?"
"Yes!" she snapped. "Do you know how maddening that was? I spent a week naming insects! Do you know how many species of beetle God made?! Like he was bored or something! Beetles!"
I just nodded, slowly, lips twitching at the edges.
She kept going.
"And all Adam did was strut around like he owned the place, eating fruit, sleeping on moss piles, and trying to lecture me about 'obedience.'" She made air quotes and rolled her eyes. "He once told me he was made in God's image, like that gave him the right to order me around. I told him if God looked like him, no wonder the angels never smile."
A short laugh escaped me.
Lilith finally paused, exhaled hard, and rubbed her temples. "So yeah. If you killed him or kicked him out or turned him into a slug, whatever you did—thank you."
"You're welcome?" I offered.
She waved a hand. "Alright. You clearly aren't the same idiot. So who are you?"
I dragged a stool over and sat across from her. The forge crackled behind us, casting golden light on stone walls. The Jian rested between us.
"The short version?" I began. "A few centuries from now, the gods vanish. Poof. Gone. They run from something called the Great Devourer—a cosmic predator that eats pantheons for breakfast. But they get so fearful of actually being eaten that they form a contract with the Great Devourer and decide that serving 100,000 humans was better than vanishing for good."
She stared at me. For once, quiet.
I went on. "Before I came here, I learnt from Metatron that they actually performed a surgery on Adam. Made him obedient. Dumbed him down. Turned the first man into a loyal little lapdog so he wouldn't question them—or ever get strong enough to stand against them."
She shook her head slowly. "They weakened humanity from the start."
"Exactly."
Her gaze drifted to the sword. "And what is that thing, a metal stick?"
"A Jian," I said. "A Chinese straight sword. Lightweight. Precise. It is a weapon that will allow me to kill the gods."
She leaned in slightly. "Really, it is that powerful?"
"Yeah. crafted from Adamantine, and bathed in the blood of a lion. It is more than ready to attack the gods."
Lilith studied me for a long moment. Then she leaned back and crossed her arms.
"Good," she said. "You're gonna need it. God's coming back in two weeks."
My brow twitched. "What?"
"He does these little check-ins," she said. "Wanders around Eden, pokes at the trees, pets some random animals, asks us if we're being good little creations. You know. Creepy dad stuff."
I groaned. "How much do I know about what's happened since I've been here?"
"You tell me."
"Eden," I said aloud, "access Adam's original memories. Anything important."
A pause.
"Memory scan complete. Relevance filter: applied. Result: all memories are deemed 'functionally useless.'"
I blinked. "Nothing. Guy was a waste of space."
Lilith groaned and muttered a string of curses.
Then she sighed, sitting back down. "Well, you didn't miss much. God told us not to eat the fruit from the Tree of Knowledge or the Tree of Immortality. That was pretty much the last serious thing he said."
I snorted. "So, no on the magic fruit."
Lilith raised an eyebrow. "Are you planning to eat them?"
I shrugged. "It's an option. You might want to eat from the Tree of Knowledge, though. Help you catch up on physics. And sarcasm."
She tilted her head. "Maybe I will."
beautiful, eerie sounds from creatures that had never known fear. Not like we had.
The forge cast flickering shadows across the cave walls, dancing over half-melted ore and unfinished blades. I could still feel the heat on my face, but my thoughts were somewhere else—running laps through memories I didn't ask for.
Lilith watched me. I didn't return her gaze.
Then, finally, she broke the quiet.
"What's the plan?"
Her voice was cautious. Not mocking. Not fearful. Just... aware. Like she was asking the question not because she wanted the answer—but because she needed to hear me say it out loud.
I looked up. Met her eyes. No flinch. No hesitation.
"So far?" I said. "Wage war on Heaven."
She blinked. Just once. Then exhaled through her nose, long and slow. No laugh. No sarcasm. Just resignation. Maybe something like admiration, buried deep under disbelief.
She stood. Brushed the dust from her hands.
"Right," she said, almost to herself. "Well then, you better start figuring out how. Because if God catches even a scent of what you are before you're ready, He won't just smite you." She leaned in, voice low and sharp. "He'll burn you out of that body. Snap your soul like twine. You'll die screaming, and the world won't even know you existed."
Her words hung there like ash.
She turned toward the cave's mouth, the night wind catching strands of her hair like silk caught in flame.
"Two weeks," she called back, not looking at me. "That's all the time you've got. Tick-tock, warrior boy."
Then she was gone.
Just like that, silence reclaimed the cave. The fire hissed and popped, but it sounded smaller now. Distant. I was afraid to break the tension.
I didn't move.
Just stared into the mouth of the forge. Watched the metal pulse and simmered like a waiting heart.
Two weeks.
Two weeks to start training
Two weeks to come up with a plan
Two weeks, and I will smile in His presence.
Two weeks…
…and I will lie to His face as I figure out how to kill him.