This is more of an informational chapter to give a proper foundation of Adam's history and character.
The next chapter is when the real crossover begins and where destinies will intertwine.
I know that it's very wordy and unengaging, but rest assured that I'll try to avoid other chapters of the like in the future.
How did he fail? This thought tormented Adam, swirling in his mind for what felt like an eternity, though time had lost its meaning.
Adam — his name was once synonymous with righteousness, a symbol of divine favor and unshakable destiny. He was a man destined for greatness, a child beloved by the Heavens and cherished by the Divine.
Wasn't he blessed with unparalleled might and wisdom? Hadn't he triumphed over every trial and tribulation as he transcended his mortal origins? Was he not promised absolute victory and authority over all who lived and breathed by the will of the Almighty?
So why? Why did he find himself suffering a bitter defeat at the hands of those he deemed nothing but scum, creatures unworthy of the very breath they took? The very ones he was tasked with eradicating, so their corruption wouldn't spread, like a plague, unchecked across the world?
He could still faintly recall his final moments, locked in a desperate struggle with those vile vermin — those wretched beings, undeserving of any goodness for they lived in defiance of righteousness. The damned and corrupted, the very souls he once called his daughters and sons.
Their horrid cries and pitiful screams echoed in his mind, once filled with joy and love, now tainted by the venom of their rebellion. It was all in the past now, a distant memory from a time when life was simpler, when heartache was a foreign concept. Back when everything was manageable, when the weight of the world hadn't yet crushed his spirit.
Where did it all go wrong? This question gnawed at him, an incessant itch he could not scratch, as he drifted through a void of nothingness — a perpetual limbo where darkness was his only companion, robbing him of any sensation, any sense of self.
He arrived in this bleak, desolate realm after his devastating defeat at the hands of his enemies, at the hands of the one who had brought paradise to ruin. The very being who orchestrated the downfall of humanity. Adam seethed with rage, his anger flaring like a fire he could not quench. He longed to scream, to release a primal, guttural roar that would shake the very foundations of the universe.
But with no body, no voice, no concept of existence, he was left to drift silently in the endless abyss, fearing that this was all his afterlife would amount to — a speck of dust in a cold, unfeeling universe, a victim of a cruel and unjust fate.
He was alone, utterly alone, with nothing but his thoughts to accompany him in this eternal void. And so, he began to look back, to retrace the steps of his past, his history, his origins, desperate to pinpoint the moment when everything began to unravel.
Was it when he accepted the mantle of General of the Exorcists, that elite force charged with keeping the damned in check, ensuring they did not threaten the sanctity of Heaven?
No, he reasoned.
That was a burden he had chosen to shoulder, the duty of slaying his own descendants who had been tainted by evil. He could not blame his superiors for allowing him to fulfill his duty, even as they had tried to dissuade him. It was his choice, his decision to descend and exterminate those he had once loved as the Father of Mankind.
Was it when he first ascended to Heaven? When he was welcomed by the Divine and ushered past the pearly gates into a paradise free of mortal burdens?
No… again, he thought differently.
He did not resent his righteous life or the judgment that allowed him entry into paradise. What shook him to his core was the realization that he was the first mortal to ever cross that threshold, to stand before the Divine while those he loved were left behind. The truth of his solitary ascension was a revelation that shattered his spiritual being.
What of his kin? His sons? His daughters? His one and only beloved? Had they not lived righteously? Were they not pure? Where had they gone after death claimed them?
He did not know, and none of the higher beings had given him an answer. It wasn't long before the first man, the first father, the first husband fell into despair. His anguished cries echoed in the halls of Heaven, a testament to the torment ravaging his once-mortal heart. His desperate screams were a plea for those he had loved with all his soul, a cry for answers that never came.
He dared not delve deeper into those memories, for they were filled with too much pain, too much suffering, more than he could bear. But his mind continued to spiral, questioning when the descent into madness had truly begun.
Perhaps it was when he was cast down to the harsh, unforgiving world of the Primordial Earth, stripped of his title as caretaker of all life. Forced to scavenge, hunt, and build a semblance of paradise with his own two hands, without the blessings of Heaven to guide him.
It was during that time that he truly began to appreciate all he had taken for granted — the lush trees that bore bountiful fruit, the animals that once obeyed his every command. He had never known how dependent he was on the treasures gifted to him by the Heavens until they were taken away. Only when he lost everything did he realize the depth of his dependence, the fragility of his existence.
So many questions, so many conflicting thoughts, each one a dagger to his already wounded soul. Yet through it all, one question remained: Did he regret it?
The answer came to him swiftly, with a certainty that cut through the fog of doubt.
No, he did not regret it.
Yes, he had lost everything handed to him by those he was meant to rule over. Yes, he had been stripped of his divine title, his place in paradise. But he had chosen this path, of his own free will.
Adam had chosen to relinquish his divine title, to forsake his place in Heaven, all for the sake of his beloved. He had given up everything, left with nothing but his body and his wits to survive and thrive in the primitive world. His decision was final, his resolve unwavering, all for a second chance at love.
For he realized that a life without her was a life without meaning. Even though he treasured the love bestowed upon him by the Heavens and the Almighty, he chose to remain by her side.
No, Adam did not regret his choice.
But he couldn't help but look further back, to relive the memory of when it all began. Back in the Garden, where he was first crafted in the Almighty's likeness, where he was given dominion over all that existed in the sanctuary he once called home. He remembered his time in the Garden fondly, as though he had never been cast out, as though he still walked its hallowed grounds, carrying out the will of the Most High.
It was there, in the Garden's embrace, that he first learned of life. It was within its boundaries that he was given a purpose, a reason for being. It was his home, the place where he first knew love. He held compassion for all life, from the vibrant foliage to the majestic creatures that roamed its sanctuary. Adam was given dominion over them all, tasked by the Heavens to name each and every one, to bestow upon them a purpose, a place in the grand tapestry woven by the Almighty.
Yet even as he cherished all life within the Garden, the love he felt for his beloved was unlike anything he had ever known. She was his destined partner, his eternal companion, born from his own flesh, crafted by the hand of the Almighty.
The Heavens heard his plea for companionship, the Most High answered his need for another soul to share his joy, his thoughts, his life. And so, from Adam's rib, the Father of the Heavens created the second human. Not from his head to rule over him, nor from his feet to be beneath him, but from his chest to stand by his side as his equal. Eve, the first woman, the first mother of humanity, his other half.
Everything was simpler back then…
Adam's recollections of the Garden were bittersweet, tinged with regret and an overwhelming sense of loss. He had died as a mortal many millennia ago, living for centuries before his body succumbed to the relentless march of time. He had lost many things, including his kin, his flesh, and blood.
But the pain of losing his children paled in comparison to the agony of losing his one true love, his soulmate, the first wife and mother of humanity — Eve.
Shelia… art thou disappointed in what I hath become?
Grief surged within him, a relentless tide of sorrow that pooled in the depths of his soul, threatening to drown him in despair. The agony of losing everything he had labored so tirelessly to build and protect weighed heavily on his formless being. Every memory, every achievement, every love lost felt like a blade twisting in his core, leaving behind nothing but a hollow ache.
But then, amidst the swirling maelstrom of his grief, a cold stillness began to settle over him. The dread that had once overwhelmed him slowly ebbed away as he came to terms with the reality of his existence. What was the point? What was the point of mourning over a past he could never change? What was the point of agonizing over mistakes that could never be corrected, over losses that could never be reclaimed?
The question echoed in his mind, but it carried no weight, no urgency. It was the listless thought of a man who had lost all hope, who had become numb to the pain that once consumed him. He realized that he could do nothing to alter the course of his life. He could not turn back the hands of time, could not undo the choices that had led him to this dark and desolate place. All he could do was surrender to the void that had crept ever deeper into his being, smothering his senses and dulling the last remnants of his will.
And so, he remained motionless, unresponsive, as the darkness encroached further, wrapping around his soul like a shroud. Adam, the First Man, the first husband, the first Father of Humanity. A General of Heaven's elite, a soul who attained Sainthood before all others, and now a man with nothing left to lose.
He was tired, so very tired. The weariness was not just of the body, but of the soul — a deep, bone-weary exhaustion that seeped into every part of his being. The isolation of this ethereal realm was a weight he could no longer bear, and as it pressed down upon him, his sense of self began to wither away. The fire that had once burned in his eyes flickered weakly, like a dying ember struggling against the cold wind of a winter's night. His spiritual self, once vibrant and strong, was now a mere husk of the man he had once been.
As he surrendered to the darkness, as he allowed it to seep deeper into his soul, there was a part of him that welcomed it. This numbness, this fading, felt like a release from the pain, an escape from the torment that had plagued him for so long. The void was no longer a source of fear but a blanket of oblivion that he longed to wrap himself in. He was ready to let go, ready to embrace the darkness that offered him the only solace he had known in what felt like an eternity.
But just as he began to drift into the nothingness, a sudden brilliance caught his attention. From within the depths of the void, a light emerged, faint at first but growing steadily brighter. It was a soft, gentle light, like the first rays of dawn breaking through the night, dispelling the shadows that had long held dominion over his soul.
The light filled the space around him, its radiance pushing back the darkness that had enveloped him. It was a light that carried warmth, a sense of peace that Adam had not felt in eons. It was like the tender touch of a parent comforting a frightened child, the loving embrace of the one who held his heart.
For the first time in what felt like an eternity, Adam's spirit stirred with something other than despair. He bore witness to the emergence of this wondrous light in a world that had been devoid of anything but darkness. From nothingness, a miracle unfolded before his eyes — a miracle that rekindled a spark of hope deep within his soul.
Without realizing it, Adam reached out, his formless self yearning for the light, desperate to feel its warmth, to be enveloped in its glow. As he stretched towards it, the light grew ever brighter, its brilliance overwhelming the void, filling every corner of the space that had once been consumed by darkness.
The illumination was calming, soothing the raw edges of his spirit, and as it enveloped him completely, he felt the darkness retreat, banished by the light's gentle but unstoppable advance.
And in that moment, as the light enraptured him, Adam felt something he had not felt in a long, long time — peace.
A distant chirping noise and the soft rustling of leaves gradually pulled Adam out of his stupor. The pain in his head was sharp and familiar, a constant companion throughout the ages, each throb reminding him of battles long fought and lost.
He gasped, his lungs filling with air for the first time in what seemed like an eternity. Tentatively, he opened his eyes, greeted by a blinding light that seared his vision. He squinted, turning his head away from the harsh rays of the heavens as his senses slowly returned to him.
"Ow, so much for acting cool and knightly," he muttered, the sound of his own voice startling him in its sudden normalcy.
The headache began to ebb, reducing to a dull throb, a mere nuisance now. Adam shook his head, trying to clear the lingering fog from his mind.
Wait… His thoughts caught up with him. He felt around, his hands brushing against the solid ground beneath him, tracing the contours of his own body in disbelief.
"What the fu—" The words lodged in his throat, caught somewhere between shock and confusion.
"Huh? What the f— was that about?" He blinked, bewilderment dawning on him as he tried again to express his frustration.
"Sh— fu— bit—!" Over and over, he tried to curse, to voice the anger and confusion bubbling within him, but something—some unseen force—was stopping him. It was as though his thoughts were censored, blocked by an invisible barrier that refused to let him speak his mind freely.
"Okay, okay. I'll figure that one out later," he reasoned aloud, pushing the strange phenomenon aside as he focused on the greater mystery at hand.
Adam looked around, taking in his surroundings for the first time. He was no longer in the suffocating void, no longer adrift in that endless expanse of nothingness.
Instead, he found himself in a place that was strange and yet…familiar. So familiar, in fact, that he knew exactly where he was, even though his mind screamed that it was impossible.
His surroundings were bursting with life, vibrant colors painting the landscape with a brilliance that was almost overwhelming. Wondrous creatures moved about, their presence filling the air with a symphony of sounds that was both soothing and invigorating. The air itself felt cleaner, purer than anything he had breathed in millennia. The tranquility of the space washed over him, bringing with it an unexpected wave of emotion.
Tears welled up in Adam's eyes as he whispered, "Eden?"
The name slipped from his lips, filled with shock and disbelief. "I'm… back?"
The words felt foreign, almost ridiculous, given everything he knew. Eden was gone. His home had been laid to waste after the fall, abandoned and forgotten by both man and the Heavens. It had become nothing more than a myth, a fantasy of paradise in a world that had grown harsh and unforgiving.
He shook his head, trying to dispel the thought. It couldn't be. This place, no matter how familiar it seemed, couldn't be Eden. Yet, the more he looked around, the more he felt a deep, undeniable connection to the land. It was as if every blade of grass, every tree, every creature was a part of him — an extension of the life he had once known.
But a darker side of him refused to accept it. "Yeah, right," he spat, venom dripping from his tone. "Is this some kind of fu— joke? Am I being taken for a fool?" Rage began to bubble within him, a fire that had been dormant for far too long now roaring back to life.
He pushed himself up from the soft grass, his movements driven by fury as the reality of his situation hit him full force. "I don't know which fu— a— is doing this sh—, but you should quit while you're ahead!" he screamed into the heavens, convinced that someone or something was toying with his senses, with his past.
"Eden was destroyed! Left to rot and fall into ruins after we were cast out of its boundaries! This place you've cooked up doesn't even compare to the original, so I suggest you stop these fu— mind games and face me like a man!" His primal screams echoed through the landscape, but they were met with nothing. No response, no acknowledgment — only the gentle swaying of the nearby trees and the soft rustling of grass as it danced in the breeze.
His breath came in ragged gasps, his anger gradually ebbing away as the silence stretched on. "Whatever, f— if I care." he muttered bitterly. "At least it's better than that fu— abyss from earlier."
He turned his face upward, meeting the gaze of the sun that shone brightly above, its rays warm against his skin. He felt a slight sheen of sweat forming along his well-sculpted features, a sensation so familiar and yet so foreign after all this time. His attention shifted to his hands, which he raised before him, inspecting them closely. His skin, once a pallid, ashen-gray from millennia spent in death's embrace, was now a warm, tanned hue, reminiscent of the time when he had first been created and welcomed into the Garden by the Almighty himself.
The sight of his own body both bemused and awed him. The First Man stood in his physical form once more, a figure as if carved from marble by the finest artisans — a body rugged and imposing, the very mold from which humanity was cast, a reflection of the image of the Most High.
Everything about this place was the same as it had been in the beginning. The verdant abundance, the perfect craftsmanship of the Highest Order — it was all as he remembered.
But there was one glaring difference: he was alone.
There was no one to welcome him, no voice to guide him, no presence to share in the beauty of this place. No Eve to stand beside him, to walk with him as the caretakers of the Garden, the first Mother and Father of humanity.
Surrounded by life, Adam still felt the sting of isolation. The silence weighed heavily on him, a dullness that pressed down on his soul, reminding him that despite the beauty and life around him, he was, once again, utterly and completely alone.
He had no idea how long he had been lying there. The passage of time was irrelevant in this place, a place that felt both familiar and foreign. Adam remained at the center of the clearing where he had first found himself, rooted to the spot as if the earth beneath him had swallowed him whole. He was a statue — still, unmoving, and detached from the world around him.
His gaze was fixed on the clear blue sky above, its vastness both comforting and mocking. The radiant dawn continued to blaze overhead, the sunlight bathing his body in warmth, but he felt none of it. It was as if his senses had dulled, his mind retreating into itself to escape the reality he was faced with. The world around him blurred, a backdrop to the turmoil brewing inside.
"Sh— fu— boring as f—!" he shouted, his voice cracking as it echoed through the emptiness. The words came out in jagged, incomplete fragments, a symptom of the ever-present censorship that plagued this place. It was another cruel reminder that this was not Eden — the Eden he had known, the Eden he had loved and lost. A heavy sigh escaped him as the realization dug deeper into his soul, turning the paradise he once cherished into a hollow, mocking imitation.
He shook his head, as if trying to dislodge the unwanted thoughts that clung to him like parasites. His mind wandered to the memories of his previous life, of his last incarnation before he had fallen in battle. He thought of the Higher Echelons of Heaven, those he had called friends and family, those who had looked up to him as the First Man.
Would they miss him? Had they even noticed his defeat, his pathetic fall at the hands of lesser beings? How would they react when they learned that the First Man was no more? Who would carry the burden of his mantle? And when — if ever — would he hear the voice of the Creator again?
The silence was deafening. For someone who had lived such a rambunctious and extravagant afterlife, the solitude was suffocating. Paradise, the place that had once been his reward, now felt like a prison. Adam's eyes absently scanned the vast expanse of the sky, watching as clouds drifted by, indifferent to his suffering. The sun climbed higher, reaching its zenith, casting harsh shadows across the clearing. Enough. He had had enough.
"Ah, f— it!" he growled, pushing himself off the ground with a sudden burst of energy. He dusted off the dirt that clung to his naked body — another vivid reminder of his time in Eden. He was as bare as the day he was created, but the vulnerability didn't bother him. He had been naked in Eden, after all, but this… this was different. This wasn't Eden, and he wasn't about to play the role of an exhibitionist for whoever had trapped him here.
"Hmm…" he mused, his thoughts shifting gears as he approached the edge of the clearing. He reached out, placing his palm against the nearest tree. The tree stood tall, its branches spreading out like arms, its bark warm and alive beneath his touch. Adam pressed his forehead against the bark, closing his eyes as he tried to connect with the life force of the tree, just as he had done so many times in the Garden.
He searched, reaching out with his mind, and soon, he found what he was looking for. The tree responded, its ancient spirit awakening as it heard and answered his call. The branches trembled, twisting and bending as the tree began to move. Leaves cascaded from the crown, the bark peeled away, and the roots unearthed themselves, circling Adam's body in a protective embrace.
He remained calm as the tree sacrificed itself, its entire form reshaping to envelop him in a cocoon of wood and leaves. He felt the transformation happening around him, the bark molding against his skin, the branches curling around his limbs. When the process was complete, the wooden shell cracked and fell away, revealing Adam clothed in garments fashioned by the tree itself.
The wood had softened into a silken shirt, smooth against his skin. The bark had hardened into a flexible vest, sturdy and protective. The branches had coiled around his legs, smoothing out into a pair of form-fitting pants. The roots had wrapped around his feet, transforming into boots that were both hard and comfortable. And finally, the leaves had woven themselves into a circlet, resting gently on his brow.
Adam examined his new attire, nodding in satisfaction. He turned his gaze to the disheveled ground where the tree had once stood, its presence now only a memory. He closed his eyes and clasped his hands together, offering a silent prayer of thanks for the tree's sacrifice.
"Right," he murmured to himself, his voice steadier now. "Since I'm here, I might as well do a little exploring. Like old times." The words hung in the air, heavy with nostalgia. Yes, just like old times.
With one last glance at the clearing, the place where he had lain in despair, Adam turned and walked deeper into the woods, determined to discover what secrets this place held, and what trials it had in store for him.
Adam spent what felt like an eternity wandering through the endless expanse of the forest. Minutes slipped into nearly an hour, and with each step, the strange surroundings began to feel eerily familiar, echoing memories of the home he once knew. The forest seemed to close in around him, its dense foliage and towering trees stretching out in every direction like some twisted, infinite maze.
His frustration bubbled over as he muttered to himself, "This is some messed-up Matrix bull—." The memory of that movie flashed in his mind, reminding him of how much he disliked it in the end, perhaps because it hit too close to home.
It felt like he was running in circles, the same trees and greenery repeating themselves in an endless loop. Just as despair began to settle in, Adam stumbled upon an enormous, sturdy Hyperion tree.
The sight of it sparked an idea, and with a reckless grin, he muttered, "Alright, let's Tarzan this sh—." The tree's rough bark provided ample holds, and with his powerful, muscular arms, he began to climb, each movement an effortless testament to his ancient lineage. His body, a perfect creation of the First Man, had become a mere shadow of its former glory in his descendants. But now, in this moment, it felt alive, strong, and capable.
Reaching the highest branch, Adam paused to catch his breath, steadying himself on the firm limb. The view that greeted him took his breath away. His initial intention to scout the area fell away as he stood mesmerized by the sight before him. An endless sea of green stretched out in every direction, the fertile land teeming with life. The sky above was a clear, untouched blue, unmarred by the pollution of modernity. Majestic mountains rose in the distance, their peaks touching the heavens, while rivers wound their way through the landscape like veins of pure crystal. It was a world out of time, a vision of beauty so pure it felt almost sacred.
"Holy f—," Adam whispered, his voice trembling with awe. The sight before him was more than just a landscape; it was a memory made real, a glimpse into a time long forgotten.
Whoever or whatever was behind this, Adam couldn't help but feel a thread of hope knotting itself inside him. For the first time in a long while, he allowed himself to believe that maybe, just maybe, there was something worth fighting for.
A wild idea sparked in his mind, and he looked around, spotting thick vines coiled around the branch. He grabbed one, testing its strength and elasticity. A grin spread across his face as he realized what he was about to do. "This is either gonna be a really awesome idea or a pretty stupid one," he muttered, gripping the vine tightly. He gulped, bracing himself. "Here goes nothing!"
With a loud yell, he launched himself off the branch, swinging through the air with the vine. The wind whipped against his face, the world blurring around him as his heart pounded in his chest. The adrenaline surged through his veins, each second stretching out into an eternity. As he soared through the trees, something primal awoke within him, a wild, untamed spirit that had been buried deep inside for far too long. The fire in his eyes burned anew, and for a moment, he felt truly alive.
As the vine reached its limit, Adam released his grip, launching himself into the air. Time seemed to stand still as he hung there, suspended between heaven and earth. A flood of emotions overwhelmed him — joy, nostalgia, a bittersweet happiness that threatened to bring tears to his eyes. He remembered what it felt like to be the caretaker of an unblemished paradise, to feel love in its purest form, untouched by the darkness that would one day consume it all.
But as quickly as the moment came, it passed. Gravity reclaimed him, pulling him back toward the earth. Yet, there was no fear, no hesitation in his descent. He reached out instinctively, catching hold of a branch and swinging himself forward. He landed with the grace of a predator on a series of intertwining trees, the moss-covered bark slick beneath his feet. He slid along the branches, the kinetic energy propelling him effortlessly through the thick foliage, his movements fluid and confident.
Finally, his momentum slowed, and he dropped down onto the forest floor. He stood there, panting, his skin glistening with sweat, his breath ragged but exhilarated. He pumped his fists into the air, a victorious shout erupting from his throat. "F— yeah!" His voice echoed through the forest, breaking the serene silence with the raw intensity of his emotions.
But as the echoes faded, something caught Adam's eye. He froze, his breath hitching in his throat as he stared at the strange anomaly before him. "What the f—?" he muttered, unable to believe what he was seeing. He took a cautious step forward, his eyes wide with disbelief. The forest, so familiar and comforting just moments ago, now seemed to blur and warp before his eyes. It was as if a wall of mist separated him from the rest of the world, a barrier of unknown origins that made the landscape beyond it appear hazy and unreal.
Adam's mind raced with possibilities, each one more outlandish than the last. The world around him seemed divided, split between reality and some strange, fictional construct. He approached the wall cautiously, his heart pounding in his chest. It was like something out of a sci-fi movie, a concept too bizarre to be real. And yet, here he was, standing on the threshold of the impossible.
"Holy sh—! Did I just get Trumanned?" he whispered, the absurdity of the situation not lost on him. But as the thought settled in, a new resolve took hold of him. He couldn't stay trapped in this illusion, no matter how beautiful or nostalgic it seemed. He had to know the truth, had to see what lay beyond this barrier.
With a deep breath, Adam reached out, his hand trembling as it neared the misty wall. The moment his fingers touched the surface, a cold, unsettling sensation washed over him, making him pull back instinctively. But there was something calming about it, too, a strange sense of familiarity that made him hesitate. He glanced back at the forest, its beauty now tinged with a sense of melancholy. He couldn't stay here, trapped in a simulated paradise. He had to move forward, no matter the cost.
"F— it," he muttered under his breath, his voice barely more than a whisper. "It's not like I have anything else to lose." With a renewed sense of determination, he pushed his hand against the barrier, feeling the strange sensation ripple through him as he pressed forward. The mist enveloped him, consuming him piece by piece until he was completely submerged.
And then, just like that, Adam vanished, leaving behind only the echoes of his daring leap into the unknown.
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