The heat radiating from the Valley of Forgotten Souls was suffocating, but to Zestial, it felt like home. He stood at the edge of the fissure, his wings folded behind him, watching the fractured figure of Adam slowly reform from the ash and darkness below. The once-proud warrior of Heaven, now little more than a collection of broken pieces, was struggling to pull himself together, but even in this state, his voice carried a weight that few could ignore.

Zestial's mocking words hung in the air, the taunt directed at the half-formed figure below. Adam, ever defiant, had growled in response, his voice raw but filled with a venomous edge that had always defined him. Zestial could feel the energy around them shift, crackling with the tension of a power that was slowly returning, piece by piece.

But Adam was far from whole.

Zestial knew it would take time for the reformation to complete. Even with the Heart of Oblivion accelerating the process, the damage Adam had sustained was profound. His body—once the embodiment of divine wrath—was in pieces, and while his essence was pulling itself together, it was clear that the process was agonizingly slow.

Still, the fact that Adam could speak, that he could form words through the pain and chaos of his shattered state, was a testament to the raw willpower that had made him legendary.

Zestial crouched at the edge of the fissure, his golden eyes gleaming in the dim light of the valley. "Still fighting, I see," he said, his voice low and taunting. "Even after everything Hell has done to you, you're still clinging to that stubborn pride."

From below, Adam's laugh was a rough, broken sound, more like a snarl than genuine amusement. "You think… pride's the only thing keeping me together?" His voice cracked with the effort, but there was no mistaking the defiance in his tone. "I was the first mortal, bitch. It's going to take… more than Hell… to break me."

Zestial raised an eyebrow, intrigued. Adam's reputation had been built on this—on his refusal to bend, his refusal to fall, even when all the odds were stacked against him. He was Heaven's enforcer, after all, a warrior of unmatched strength and arrogance. But here, in the depths of Hell, he was nothing more than a shadow of that power. And yet… he was still dangerous.

"You always did think highly of yourself," Zestial replied, his voice smooth, but there was a sharpness to it now. He could feel Adam's power growing, slowly but surely, and that made him cautious. Adam might have been broken, but if he reformed completely, if he regained even a fraction of the strength he once had, Zestial knew this would no longer be a simple game of control.

But for now, Adam was weak, vulnerable. And Zestial intended to use that to his advantage.

With a flick of his wrist, Zestial sent a pulse of energy down into the fissure, the Heart of Oblivion thrumming in his hand. The power rippled through the air, surrounding Adam's form, accelerating the reformation process once more. The ground trembled beneath Zestial's feet as the broken pieces of Adam's body began to knit together, his form becoming more defined, more solid.

Adam's growl of pain echoed through the valley, a sound that sent a shiver of satisfaction through Zestial. This was what he had come for. To watch Adam, the once-mighty warrior, writhe in agony as his body reformed under Zestial's control. To know that, for the first time, Adam was not the one in power.

But Zestial knew better than to underestimate him.

"You can try to fight this all you want," Zestial said, his voice dripping with amusement. "But you and I both know how this is going to end. You'll reform, and when you do, you'll belong to me."

Adam's laugh was hoarse, filled with both pain and fury. "I don't… belong to anyone."

Zestial tilted his head, watching as Adam's body continued to take shape. "We'll see about that."

The reformation was slow, each movement of Adam's form punctuated by low, guttural sounds of pain and frustration. Zestial could see the struggle, the sheer effort it took for Adam to pull himself together, and it was intoxicating. This was a creature who had once stood at the pinnacle of Heaven's power, brought low by Hell's relentless brutality, and now, by Zestial's hand.

"You've been shattered for so long, Adam," Zestial continued, his voice soft but filled with dark intent. "Do you even remember what it was like to be whole? To be feared? You'll have that again, but only if you accept what I'm offering."

Adam's form shifted in the darkness below, the outline of his body becoming more defined, but still incomplete. His wings—once the symbol of his divine power—were nothing more than skeletal remnants, barely holding together as the energy of the Heart of Oblivion worked to restore them.

"I don't… need your help," Adam growled, though his voice was strained. "I'll take my revenge… with or without you."

Zestial's eyes gleamed with amusement. "Is that so? You can barely hold yourself together, and yet you think you can take anything from me?"

The ground trembled again, this time more violently, as Adam's form surged upward, the energy around him crackling with intensity. Zestial felt a flicker of something in the air—an echo of the power Adam had once wielded—and for the first time, a sense of caution crept into his mind.

But it was only a flicker.

Zestial remained calm, his hand still wrapped around the Heart of Oblivion as he watched Adam struggle to rise. The power was returning, yes, but it was fragmented, incomplete. Adam was still broken, still vulnerable. And Zestial had no intention of letting him rise to full strength.

With another surge of energy, Zestial poured more of the Heart's power into the fissure, forcing Adam's form to coalesce faster. The strain on Adam's body was palpable, and Zestial could hear the pain in his voice as he growled through clenched teeth.

But even through the pain, Adam's defiance remained.

"I'm going to tear you apart," Adam snarled, his voice low and dangerous, despite the agony ripping through him. "You think you can control me, but when I'm whole again—"

"You'll do what, exactly?" Zestial interrupted, his tone cold and condescending. "You'll still be broken, Adam. Even when your body reforms, you'll never be what you once were."

Adam's eyes, glowing faintly in the darkness, locked onto Zestial's. There was hatred there. Zestial felt a thrill run through him as Adam's body continued to piece itself together, but it was clear that the process was agonizing. Every muscle, every tendon, every fragment of bone reassembled in an unholy display of power and suffering. Adam's wings were still nothing more than hollow, skeletal structures, barely able to move, let alone fly. His once-proud figure, a force that had once struck terror into the hearts of demons, was now little more than a shadow of its former self. But his eyes, even dimly glowing from the pits of agony, still burned with a raw, primal fury.

Zestial allowed himself a moment to savor the sight. He had broken powerful beings before, torn them from their pedestals and reshaped them into something lesser, something that served him. But this? This was different. This was Adam—the warrior of Heaven—now at his mercy. And even though the process was far from over, Zestial could see the cracks beginning to form, not just in Adam's body, but in his resolve.

"You're coming with me, Adam," Zestial said, his voice dripping with authority. "You'll finish reforming under my roof. It will be… comfortable. Better than rotting here in the Valley."

Adam's laugh was bitter, almost choking on itself. "Comfortable…? You don't get it, do you? I'd rather crawl back into the abyss than be… under the roof of some wantabe hell Lord."

Zestial crouched at the edge of the fissure, his wings spreading slightly behind him, casting a dark silhouette over Adam's still-reforming body. He smiled, a cold, calculated smile that showed no sympathy. "I don't think you're in any position to make that choice. You might hate me now, but in time, you'll see that this is the only way."

Without giving Adam a chance to respond, Zestial extended his hand. The Heart of Oblivion pulsed in his grasp, sending another surge of power into the ground beneath Adam, wrapping around his form like invisible chains. With a flick of his wrist, Zestial willed Adam's body to rise from the fissure, lifting him from the dark pit of the valley.

The process was painful, Zestial knew. He could feel Adam's energy straining, the broken pieces of his form struggling to hold together under the weight of the force pulling him upward. Adam's guttural growl of pain echoed through the valley, but Zestial remained unmoved. Pain was a necessary part of reformation. Without it, Adam would never understand the full cost of his fall from Heaven.

Zestial's wings spread wide, and with a single, powerful beat, he launched himself into the air, Adam's half-formed body floating behind him, suspended by the power of the Heart. The Valley of Forgotten Souls shrank beneath them as Zestial soared through the air, the cracked, barren landscape of Hell passing by in a blur of red and black.

For a moment, Zestial glanced back at Adam. His once-golden skin was now pale and ashen, streaks of darkness running through his form like veins of molten iron. His face was barely recognizable, twisted with pain and rage, but his eyes… his eyes were still sharp. Still defiant.

Good, Zestial thought. I need him to remember this moment.

As they flew across Hell's twisted landscape, the air grew heavier, the heat more oppressive. Zestial's lair lay in the outskirts of the Ninth Circle, where only the most powerful lords of Hell resided. It was a fortress carved from obsidian and brimstone, towering above the hellish plains like a monument to his dominion. The skies above it churned with fire and ash, and the air was thick with the scent of sulfur and smoke.

Zestial landed at the entrance, the massive iron gates creaking open at his approach. With a flick of his hand, he willed Adam's body to follow him, hovering just above the ground as they passed through the gates and into the dark, cavernous halls of Zestial's domain. The walls were lined with torches that flickered with an unnatural flame, casting long, distorted shadows as they moved through the corridors.

Adam's breathing was labored, each inhale ragged and painful. He wasn't fully reformed yet, but Zestial had no intention of letting the process finish here in the open. Adam would be kept under watch, his body and mind molded slowly, carefully. There was still much to do.

They reached the heart of the fortress, a vast chamber lit by a single, towering brazier in the center of the room. The floor was lined with intricate runes, ancient symbols of power and control, designed to keep the strongest of beings in check. Zestial stopped in the center of the room, lowering Adam's form gently to the ground, his body crumpling in a heap at Zestial's feet.

Adam coughed, a sharp, guttural sound, but still tried to push himself up, his hands shaking as they pressed against the cold stone floor. Zestial watched him with a detached curiosity, waiting to see just how far Adam's stubborn pride would carry him.

"You think you've won," Adam rasped, his voice hoarse and filled with venom. "You think… I'll bend like some whore."

Zestial tilted his head, his golden eyes gleaming in the dim light. "You will, eventually. Whether you realize it or not, Adam, you've already started. This is just the beginning."

With a wave of his hand, Zestial activated the runes on the floor. The chamber glowed with an eerie light as the symbols flared to life, their power wrapping around Adam's broken form like invisible chains, binding him to the ground. Adam's body tensed, his jaw clenched in pain, but he didn't cry out. He never would. Zestial knew that much.

Adam's eyes flickered with a savage hatred as he struggled against the binding magic, his muscles straining under the weight of the power holding him down. "You think you can break me?"

Zestial smiled, cold and calculating. "Not break. Shape. Mold. You'll be what I need you to be, Adam. And when I'm finished with you, you'll be stronger than you ever were. But until then…"

He stepped closer, kneeling beside Adam's half-reformed body, his wings casting a long shadow over the bound warrior. Zestial's fingers traced along the broken edges of Adam's form, his touch light but filled with power. "Until then, you'll belong to me."

Adam growled low in his throat, his eyes flashing with defiance. But there was nothing he could do, not now. The power of the Heart of Oblivion still thrummed through the air, binding him to Zestial's will. He was trapped, and no amount of pride or fury could change that.

Zestial stood, his gaze never leaving Adam's form. The reformation would continue, but now it was on Zestial's terms. Adam would rebuild, and as he did, he would learn his place. It was inevitable.

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Carmilla's eyes flickered with approval as she listened, her hands clasped elegantly in front of her. "And when the system falls…?"

Zestial's lime green eyes flashed again, the red irises deepening with a sinister glow. "When it falls, we will rebuild it in our image. A Hell that is not ruled by petty overlords squabbling over scraps, but by those with the strength to seize it."

Carmilla let out a low, satisfied laugh. "And Adam? What role does he play in this grand vision of yours?"

Zestial turned to her, his gaze dark and calculating. "Adam is the key. He's the one who can turn the tide. If I can reshape him, bring him to my side, then he will be the weapon we use to tear down the overlords. Heaven and Hell will both tremble before him."

Carmilla raised an eyebrow, her amusement evident. "You think highly of him."