Imp to Demon King: A Journey of Conquest-Chapter 453: The Threefold Authority

Adam absorbed this, feeling the weight of cosmic responsibility settling on his shoulders. Around him, gods and monsters waited for his word, each one capable of reshaping reality with their will alone. Through the windows, he could see the massive armies gathering—millions of warriors, gods, demons, and constructs all preparing for the greatest battle since creation began.

He thought for a long moment, his mind racing through possibilities, calculating odds, considering the strengths and weaknesses of each force arrayed against them. Finally, he stood.

"We fight smart," he declared, his voice carrying absolute authority. "They expect us to meet them head-on, to match army against army in some grand melee. Instead, we hit them where they’re weak, when they’re unprepared, and we make them chase us across their own territory."

He gestured toward the Furies. "Megaera, Tisiphone, Alecto—you three will strike the contractors’ armies at the edge of the demon territories. Take Zane, Morwen, Gilgamesh, and Gawain with you. Those human lords think their borrowed power makes them untouchable. Show them what real divine wrath looks like, then fade back into shadow."

The three sisters smiled, and their expressions promised suffering beyond imagination.

"Apep, Njord, Set," Adam continued, turning to the chaos gods. "You know the Egyptian pantheon better than anyone. Luna and Garduck will go with you—hit Ra’s forces hard and fast, thin their numbers, then retreat to Atlantis before they can organise a proper response. Make them angry. Make them sloppy."

Set’s grin was all teeth and malice. "Oh, brother Ra won’t know what hit him. Literally."

"Izanagi, Eris," Adam looked toward the Japanese creator god and the Greek goddess of discord. "The Celestial Court values precision, mathematical perfection. Shihan and Karna will provide long-range support while you two introduce variables they can’t calculate. Guerrilla tactics, hit-and-run attacks. Make their perfect equations fall apart."

Eris clapped her hands in delight. "Oh, this is going to be fun. The Jade Emperor thinks he can reduce chaos to mathematics? Let’s see him solve for X when X keeps changing the rules."

"Finally," Adam’s gaze swept over his remaining forces, "Zephyr, Silas, Victoria, Sarah, Ifrit, Maven, Loki, and Fenrir will hold Asgard’s forces back. They’re the closest, and we can’t let Odin’s army collapse on us from the sky. Gork’s armada will provide support—show them that the sea doesn’t bow to the sky."

Loki’s grin was pure mischief. "Fighting my former family. How wonderfully awkward this will be."

Fenrir’s growl shook the walls. "Odin will pay for his chains. His ravens will feast on his corpse."

"Mimi, Pablo, Michael, and Amelia," Adam addressed his allied lords, "you’ll remain in Atlantis with the main armies. This is our stronghold, our anchor point. Whatever happens out there, Atlantis must stand."

A tense silence fell over the throne room. Every being present understood the magnitude of what they were planning. This wasn’t just a battle—it was a fundamental reshaping of the cosmic order. They were declaring war on the very concept of divine authority.

Finally, Garduck stepped forward, his scarred face serious despite his earlier confidence. "What about you, Adam? Where will you be in all this?"

Adam smiled, and there was something in that expression that made even Tiamat nod with approval. He pointed toward the three Hecatoncheires, their massive forms casting shadows across the room. Then his gesture shifted to where Achilles stood among his generals, the Greek hero’s eyes burning with anticipation.

"Olympus will fall first," Adam declared, his voice carrying absolute certainty. "Zeus will regret all his schemes, every manipulation, every moment he thought himself untouchable. But there’s something I must do first."

Without another word, Adam strode from the throne room, his footsteps echoing through corridors that seemed to rearrange themselves to accommodate his purpose. Luna started to follow, but he held up a hand.

"This part, I do alone," he said softly. "Trust me."

He stepped out onto the highest balcony of his palace, where the winds of the converged realms now mixed and swirled. Behind him, he could feel the presence of gods and monsters, allies and generals, all watching to see what he would do.

Adam spread his draconic wings—massive yet magnificent. They caught the wind, and with a single powerful beat, he launched himself into the air above Atlantis.

As he soared higher, his chaotic essence flared outward like a visible aura. The very air around him began to change, reality bending to accommodate his will. This was more than shapeshifting, more than simple transformation—this was the rewriting of fundamental laws.

His first divine authority activated with a pulse of golden light:

Tyrant of the Golden Age

The change rippled outward from Adam’s position, washing over all of Atlantis like a wave of temporal energy. Where it touched, time itself slowed to a crawl for the city’s inhabitants. Their aging process became so gradual as to be nearly nonexistent. More importantly, they became immune to temporal effects—time-based attacks, timeline erasure, chronological manipulation. If the gods tried to erase Adam’s achievements by altering the past, they would find Atlantis and its people anchored firmly in the present.

But Adam wasn’t finished. As he continued to climb higher, his second authority blazed forth:

Sovereign of the Verdant Crown.

Chaotic life force spread outward, and plants began to flourish unnaturally. Artisans wounded during their crafts, and warriors during Bahamut’s subjugation, felt sharp itches for a moment before all traces of damage vanished from their skins. A soothing sensation enveloped them, the stress of the impeding war fading in the promises of victory. They also became immune to mind-affecting magic, illusions, and charm-based compulsions. They were the master of their fate, and no gods could strip them of their will.

Adam’s last authority burst out in deafening crackles.

Monarch of Tempestuous Wrath

Thunder rolled across the sky as Atlantis transformed once again. The city became a Stormheart Zone, where emotions themselves became sources of power. Every citizen, every soldier, every being aligned with Adam’s cause felt the change. Lightning resistance surged through their bodies. Their nerve conduction speed increased dramatically, granting reflexes that bordered on precognitive. Paralysis became impossible—their bodies simply refused to stop moving when their will demanded action.

The storm clouds that had been gathering over the converged realms suddenly began to spiral around Atlantis, drawn by Adam’s authority. Lightning danced between his fingers, and his eyes blazed with electrical fire.

From his position high above the city, Adam could see everything—the approaching armies, the distant pantheons preparing their assaults, the small teams of his allies already beginning to move toward their targets. But most importantly, he could see Olympus, that marble mountain where Zeus sat on his throne, convinced of his own invincibility.

Adam’s smile was sharp as lightning. The King of the Gods was about to learn that evolution didn’t ask permission before it changed the rules.

The age of mortals hadn’t just begun—it was about to be written in the blood of gods.

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