The crater was still steaming. Rocks lay scattered, trees split like toothpicks. Dust clouded the air.
And from the wreckage… he rose.
The Ashura.
He looked human—but that was just skin-deep.
Tall. Lean. Barefoot. No shirt. Just tattered black pants hanging low on his hips. His muscles weren't oversized, but they were dense—like they were made of coiled steel. His skin shimmered faintly, like molten metal under a thin layer of flesh.
Veins glowed faint orange beneath his arms. His hair was wild—short, messy, with streaks of silver running through black. And his eyes? Pure white. No pupils. Just… light.
He cracked his neck slowly, one side to the other.
Then he smiled.
Big. Wide. Too wide.
His voice came out low, husky, like it hadn't been used in years.
"Ahhh… That felt nice."
Tatia narrowed her eyes. "He got thrown through a mountain and he's grinning?"
Gloria whispered, "Mom… what is that?"
Adam didn't answer. He stepped forward a bit, calm, hands still in his pockets.
