The Omnipotent System

The council chamber was bathed in a quiet, anxious light, the golden glow filtering in from the high windows casting long shadows over the assembled figures. A tall, broad-shouldered man strode into the room, his presence commanding an immediate hush. His eyes, sharp and calculating, glowed a soft blue, betraying a touch of unease beneath his confident exterior. Draped in armor etched with symbols of power, he moved with a restrained, almost ominous grace. His brow was furrowed, his jaw set with a grim determination, but a subtle tension in his shoulders betrayed the weight of his words before he even spoke.

"He is coming. We have to be ready." His voice, usually steady as a mountain, wavered just slightly, only detectable to those who knew him well. His eyes swept across the room, meeting the gazes of his fellow council members, beings of authority and influence beneath the Overlord of the Deva Plane. Each member shifted uncomfortably, murmurs dying down as the gravity of his statement settled over them like a thick fog.

Across the chamber, a striking woman narrowed her eyes, folding her arms with a mix of frustration and resignation. Her long, silvery hair cascaded over her shoulders, a perfect contrast to her dark robes adorned with ancient runes. Her gaze was piercing, calculated, as if she could unravel the essence of whoever she looked upon. She exuded a chill that even the hardened Devas around her respected. Her name was Selene, the Oracle of Shadows, feared and revered in equal measure for her unsparing visions and ruthless logic.

Selene leaned forward, her voice carrying a sharp edge as she spoke, "What do you hope to achieve by getting ready?" Her gaze hardened, locking onto him, unflinching. "You do realize this is our last line of defense. Knowing what kind of person the One Above All is, I have no doubt he'll see straight through the strategy we so carefully laid for him."

She paused, her eyes narrowing, casting a tense silence over the room. "Considering we haven't heard a single word from the Celestial Plane or the Ashura Plane… it's safe to assume they've already fallen. If he's reached us, it's likely because nothing has stood in his way."

A heavy silence settled as Selene's words sank in. The council members exchanged tense glances, their faces shadowed with doubt and a creeping dread they couldn't ignore. They had crafted a plan, calculated every possible move, the moment Arianna—marked by her unfathomable potential for true immortality—had been born. A cold shiver ran down the spines of some council members as they remembered the Overlord of Sight and Prophecy, Greta, cautioning them against the plan, forewarning that it would inevitably backfire. She had insisted they wait, predicting that interfering would only hasten their downfall.

But they hadn't listened. Many of them had dismissed Greta's warnings, convinced that, though Adams was destined to rise beyond them someday, that day was far off. They had believed that if they acted swiftly, they could remove him before he ever became a threat.

Now, as they stood at the edge of ruin, their expressions told the story of regret too bitter to swallow. The same aura they had once only dared imagine—potent, vast, and overwhelming—now bore down upon them, unmistakably Adams'. The man who had spoken first clenched his fists, his expression a mixture of anger and despair as the undeniable truth set in. Selene's lips pressed into a thin line, and though her face betrayed little, a flicker of fear glinted in her eyes as she, too, sensed that they were now facing none other than the One Above All—Adams Albert, who had come to claim the reckoning they could no longer avoid.

In The Palace Of The Overlord

In the dim, somber light of the grand chamber, a woman lay motionless on an opulent bed, her form still and lifeless. Beside her, a tall figure sat, his shoulders heavy with sorrow. The Deva Overlord—once powerful and commanding—now seemed diminished, the once-bright fire in his eyes replaced by a dull, hollow sadness. He gazed at the delicate, pallid face of the young woman, his little girl, as though hoping she might stir, even the faintest flicker of life. His hand trembled as he reached out to brush a stray strand of hair from her forehead, his fingers lingering as if he could somehow capture her warmth.

"Everything I did, I did for you," he murmured, voice breaking slightly, his words carrying the weight of regret. "But now… I think it was all for naught. Retribution is near, and I failed—failed to save you, to protect even your body." His gaze drifted to her, clouded with anguish. "They call it an empty shell, but to me, you're still my little girl. This, I promise… I won't leave your side. Not in these final moments." He sighed, the sound filled with defeat, shoulders slumping as the last remnants of his resolve seemed to drain away.

The heavy silence was shattered by the creak of the chamber doors swinging open. He didn't look up, but the footsteps that followed were all too familiar—the guards, his loyal attendants, yet they felt like intruders now. One of them stepped forward, his voice low and hesitant, as if afraid to break the sorrowful stillness.

"Sire… the Council of Heads has reached a verdict. They request that you… bring the girl. They believe the otherworlders might be able to stop the threat."

The Deva Overlord's lips twisted into a bitter chuckle, his gaze finally lifting to meet the guard's eyes. "And how, exactly, is that supposed to help?" His voice dripped with scorn, tinged with a hopelessness that spread through the room like a shadow. "Even if they manage to stop it, what difference will it make? We're still facing his wrath. We're going to die anyway. There's no escaping that. No… there's no way out of this." His laughter faded, leaving an empty silence that settled over the guards like a shroud.

The guards exchanged glances, their faces mirroring the Overlord's despair. One by one, they sighed, surrendering to the overwhelming sense of doom that filled the air. They, too, felt it—this inevitability, this fate they could no longer outrun. Then, all of a sudden, a soft, almost inaudible hum broke the silence, drawing their attention toward the window.

A bright streak shot through the open window, darting past the guards and landing beside the woman's body with a speed that left them all blinking in surprise. Instinctively, the guards tensed, hands reaching for their weapons as they prepared for action.

But before they could act, something miraculous happened. The object—a glowing, ethereal light—hovered above the woman, casting a radiant glow that seemed to embrace her, warming the room with a gentle, almost otherworldly warmth. Her body, once cold and lifeless, was engulfed in a brilliant light, her form lifting gently from the bed as though weightless, floating upward in a slow, graceful ascent.

The Deva Overlord stumbled back, his face etched with awe and fear, his hands clutching at his chest as he watched his daughter's lifeless form rise, enveloped in light. His mouth opened in a mix of astonishment and terror, the words tumbling out in a panicked whisper. "What… what is happening here?"

The guards, seeing his distress, immediately sprang into action. They bolted for the door, their hurried footsteps echoing down the corridors as they issued urgent orders, their voices rising above the growing hum of light and energy in the chamber. "Lock down the entire palace!" they shouted, their orders spreading like wildfire through the palace halls. Every guard, every servant, every soul within the palace felt the urgency and fear ripple through the air, the whole of the Overlord Palace bracing as something beyond their comprehension unfolded within its walls.

"Where is my daughter?"

The voice was sharp, cutting through the stillness of the chamber like a blade. The Deva Overlord jerked his head toward the sound, his eyes narrowing in confusion as he took in the figures in the shadowed corner of the room. Five of them stood there, their forms barely visible against the darkness. One figure was seated, his gaze resting on the lifeless young woman on the bed with a strange, almost gentle expression. The look of quiet affection on the man's face stirred something in the Deva Overlord—a question, a gnawing curiosity, and a faint, creeping dread.

The other figures, however, stood in tense silence, their auras blazing with barely contained fury. Their eyes glinted with a cold, unforgiving rage, piercing into him as if they could unravel him with a single glance. The Deva Overlord swallowed, feeling their anger, hot and heavy, pressing down on him.

He turned his gaze to the woman who had spoken, straightening his posture as he tried to mask his unease. "How…how did you get here without me sensing your presence?" he demanded, his voice laced with strained composure. "And…what daughter are you speaking of?"

From the shadows, the seated figure leaned forward slightly, a faint, almost amused smile gracing his lips. "She meant the girl you agreed to capture and experiment on," the man replied smoothly. There was a calculated calm in his tone, but beneath it lay a quiet menace that sent a shiver down the Overlord's spine. "You thought you could find a cure for your wife by sacrificing another, didn't you?" He paused, his smile widening, yet it did nothing to soften his gaze. "But that girl, Arianna…she is my sister. And the woman lying there, your daughter? She is my wife."

The Deva Overlord's face blanched, his heart pounding as realization dawned. This was him—the one they feared, the one they had plotted against—their retribution incarnate. He was Adams, the One Above All. The Overlord's mind reeled, his thoughts scattering in panic. He tried to form an excuse, tried to explain, but his voice failed him.

Before he could find the words, a sudden glow drew his gaze to the bed. The radiant light that had engulfed his daughter moments ago was fading, gradually unveiling her form. And then, a faint sound broke the silence—a delicate intake of breath. He whipped around, barely daring to believe what he was seeing.

There, on the bed, his daughter stirred. Her eyes, once closed in lifeless stillness, fluttered open, glimmering with a newfound vitality that filled the room with an ethereal brilliance. Her entire being seemed transformed, filled with a boundless, overwhelming power that dwarfed anything he had ever felt—even his own.

She looked up, meeting his stunned gaze, her lips curving into a soft, gentle smile.

"Dad."

Her voice was barely a whisper, but it shattered the Overlord's composure entirely. His knees grew weak, and he staggered, hands trembling as he reached out, his eyes brimming with disbelief, awe, and a raw, desperate hope. He could feel the intensity of her energy, radiating like a blinding sun, warming the air around them. She was not just alive—she was reborn, renewed with a strength that defied comprehension.

In the corner, Adams continued to watch, his expression unwavering, that subtle smile lingering on his lips as he observed the reunion. But his eyes, dark and penetrating, never left the Overlord.