Creation Of All Things-Chapter 135: Invasion At Home 6: Jordan 1

On the side of the shattered mountain, dust still hanging in the air, he stood—brushing debris off his shoulders like it was nothing.

Jordan Allen.

That was his Earth name.

But in truth… he was Ashura. Born from chaos. Bred for war. Sent here as a scout. A weapon. A herald of the invasion.

Earth was just another playground. And the people? Insects.

He'd lived among them for years—smiling, shaking hands, playing human. But behind the scenes? He was tearing holes through space, planting gates. Slowly turning the planet into a landing zone for his kind.

Why? Because he could. Because no one could stop him.

Until now.

That hit.

That one hit.

He touched his chest, still feeling the phantom sting of Adam's punch. A grin curled up his face.

No one had ever knocked him through a mountain before.

His body was already changing—stronger muscles, tighter nerves, faster reactions. Superior Adaptation. His gift. His cheat code.

But Adam?

Adam wasn't just strong. He was wrong. He didn't fit the system. He broke the rules.

And that?

That was exciting.

Jordan cracked his neck and let out a small laugh, eyes glowing faintly orange as he looked out toward the distant horizon.

He'd found him.

The anomaly.

His rival.

His next step.

Without a word, Jordan crouched low—then launched into the sky, wind roaring past him.

Time to find him again.

Round two was calling.

Smoke rose from the battlefield. Fire lit the sky like it was dusk, even though the sun still hung high.

Ashura soldiers—hundreds of them—were dropping like flies. Blown apart. Shattered. Reduced to nothing.

And in the middle of it all…

Adam.

Moving like a ghost. A blur of clean, violent precision.

He spun, ducked, kicked a three-eyed Ashura into a crater. Flicked his fingers—three more exploded mid-air.

No wasted movement. No hesitation. He wasn't fighting. He was cleaning up.

Then—

A flash. A pulse. A presence.

Adam's eyes shifted. He felt it.

Jordan slammed down from the sky like a comet, crashing into the ground with enough force to send shockwaves rippling through the battlefield. Ashura soldiers nearby were flung like ragdolls.

He stood slowly. No shirt. Dust swirling around him. That same too-wide grin on his face.

"Found you," he said.

Adam stepped out of the smoke, flicked some blood off his sleeve. "Took you long enough."

Jordan's eyes sparkled. "You didn't tell me it'd be this fun." He looked around at the burning chaos, then back at Adam. "You've been busy."

"Had to clean up your mess," Adam said.

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Jordan rolled his shoulders. "Let me make it worse, then."

And then he moved.

No countdown. No warm-up. Just straight violence.

He appeared in front of Adam with a low spin-kick—Adam leaned back, barely dodging. Jordan followed with a brutal elbow, but Adam caught it mid-air.

Boom.

The force cracked the ground beneath them.

Adam pushed him off—Jordan flipped, landed on all fours like a beast. His grin never faded.

His eyes flashed again. This time, deeper orange.

Faster.

He blurred forward, movement sharper now. Cleaner.

Adam blocked another hit—then a second—then a third. But his brows twitched.

Jordan was learning. On the spot.

Each strike, more refined.

He ducked under Adam's swing, jabbed his ribs, twisted, and aimed a palm at Adam's chin—barely missed.

Adam slid back a few feet, assessing.

"Already adapting?" he muttered.

Jordan laughed. "Don't act surprised."

And then he vanished—reappeared behind Adam mid-air, leg coming down in an axe kick.

Adam spun—blocked with both arms—

CRACK!

The ground split in a perfect line from the pressure.

Jordan landed, breathing steady. No sweat. No fatigue.

Just raw excitement.

"Keep going," he said. "I'm not done."

Adam cracked his neck. "Neither am I."

Then—round two exploded.

Shockwaves tore through the land. Trees snapped. Mountains trembled. Ashura soldiers retreated, too scared to stay close.

The fight wasn't just power anymore. It was speed, precision, instinct.

And Jordan—

He was getting faster. Meaner. Smarter.

Every hit Adam landed, Jordan adapted. Every move Adam made, Jordan adjusted.

A flick to the temple didn't work twice.

A sweep to the leg? Dodged on the third try.

A feint? Countered with a grin.

He was evolving mid-fight.

Not just learning—thriving.

And loving every second.

The battlefield had gone quiet. The Ashura troops weren't fighting anymore. They were watching.

Because this wasn't a battle.

This was a storm.

A boom split the air.

Not from a punch. Not from a crash.

From Jordan's laugh.

He was laughing—open, unhinged, wild. His feet skidded backward through the dirt as he blocked a flurry of palm strikes from Adam, but his grin only grew.

"You're making me feel alive, man!" he shouted, swiping at Adam's throat.

Adam ducked, slipped under the arm, and buried a knee into Jordan's side. It should've shattered ribs.

Jordan just twisted mid-air, redirected the force, and landed on one foot—barely staggered.

"See that?" he said, eyes glowing bright now. "Didn't block that one. Learned to take it."

He exploded forward, and this time, Adam barely kept up.

Their fists collided mid-air. Energy rippled out in rings, warping the clouds above them. Ground cracked. Debris floated for a heartbeat, weightless from the pressure alone.

Jordan spun and kicked. Adam parried.

Jordan jabbed low—Adam caught it, only for Jordan's body to shimmer and bend unnaturally, twisting behind him.

Adaptive recoil. Instant body shift.

Adam turned, elbowed Jordan in the face.

Crack.

Jordan's head snapped sideways.

Then turned back slowly. Smile still intact. Blood running from his nose now—but he didn't care.

He spit. "I needed that."

Then he vanished again.

Now it was different.

Now he wasn't just reacting.

He was predicting.

Adam's next swing missed by an inch. The next one never landed—Jordan was already inside his guard, fingers flashing in precise bursts, aiming for pressure points and joint locks. Not wild anymore.

Calculated. Precise. Efficient.

He'd copied Adam's style.

"How long have you been here?" Adam asked, blocking blow after blow, voice calm.

Jordan's answer came with a flurry of kicks that sent Adam sliding backward. "Long enough to understand you're not from here either."

Adam's eyes narrowed slightly.

Jordan caught it. "You hide it better. But I see it. You don't breathe like them. You move like me."

Another dash—this time with afterimages. A feint, a spin, a hammer-fist from above.

Adam caught it with one hand.

Their eyes locked.

Silence.

Then—

BOOM.

The impact created a crater the size of a building. Dust mushroomed. Energy screamed.

For a few seconds, the world flickered white.

When it cleared, they were gone.

High above.

Trading blows mid-air, moving faster than sound. The clouds ripped apart every time they clashed. Rain started falling, caught in their shockwaves, evaporating before it reached the ground.

The Ashura below could barely track it. Just flashes of light. Thunder with no lightning.

Then—

Jordan appeared above Adam—arms wide, body glowing with raw adaptive energy. His muscles pulsed. His skin shimmered, starting to shift tone—taking on a faint, silver hue.

Not armor.

Evolution.

He roared, voice echoing across the sky.

And Adam?

Adam raised one hand.

No charge-up. No power-up scream.

Just a whisper.

"Don't get cocky."

Then he snapped his fingers.

Reality twisted.

And Jordan—

For the first time—

Frowned.