The Omnipotent System

The night air was cool, carrying the faint scent of rain from earlier. Streetlights flickered softly, casting a warm glow over the quiet road. Naomi and Adams walked side by side, the sounds of the city humming in the background.

Naomi glanced at him, a small smile playing on her lips. "You know," she said, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, "this wasn't planned, and we've only known each other for, what? A day?" She let out a soft chuckle. "But I had a really great time."

Adams slowed his steps, turning to face her. The neon lights from a nearby shop reflected in his eyes, making them shine for a brief moment. He smiled. "Yeah," he said, his tone light. "It was nice."

There was a pause, a brief moment where neither of them moved. Then Adams gave her a small nod and turned to leave.

"Wait."

Naomi's voice made him stop mid-step. He turned back to see her fidgeting slightly, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. Her expression was a mix of hesitation and something else—something almost expectant.

"Your contact," she said, clearing her throat a little. "I mean… you should give me your number."

Adams blinked, raising an eyebrow. Then, almost on instinct, he let out an awkward chuckle and rubbed the back of his neck. "Uh… about that…" He looked off to the side, as if debating whether to say it or not. Then he shrugged. "I don't actually have a phone yet."

Naomi stared at him for a second before bursting into laughter. "Seriously? You don't have a phone?"

Adams gave a helpless half-smile. "What can I say? Never got around to it."

Naomi shook her head, still grinning. "Okay, fine," she said, pulling out her phone. "Give me yours instead. I'll text you, and when you finally decide to join the modern world, you'll have my number."

Adams exhaled through his nose, amused, and held out his hand. Naomi gently placed her phone in his palm, and he quickly typed in his contact before handing it back.

She looked at the screen, then back at him. "Don't forget, okay?"

Adams gave her a small, knowing smirk. "I won't."

A breeze passed between them, rustling Naomi's hair as she glanced at him one last time before taking a step back. "Goodnight, Adams."

Adams watched her for a moment, then nodded. "Goodnight, Naomi." Continue reading at My Virtual Library Empire

With that, she turned and walked off, her silhouette disappearing into the city lights. Adams stood there for a second longer, hands in his pockets, before looking up at the sky. The stars were faint against the glow of the city, but they were there.

He smiled to himself before finally walking away.

The city had quieted down by the time Adams reached a more deserted part of the streets. Neon lights flickered overhead, casting a hazy glow on the wet pavement. His footsteps echoed lightly as he walked, hands in his pockets, lost in his own thoughts.

Then, without warning, the shadows at his feet rippled like ink in water. A dark form stretched upward, shifting and twisting until Awar emerged, his usual tired expression in place. His half-lidded eyes flickered with faint amusement as he let out a long, lazy sigh.

"I see you've taken a liking to that woman," Awar murmured, rubbing the back of his head. "Spending almost the entire day with her… unexpected."

Adams chuckled, shaking his head. "Your lazy ass was listening to my conversation? I thought it would be a drag."

Awar stretched his arms above his head, his movements slow and deliberate. "Oh, it was," he muttered, his voice barely above a drawl. "But let's be real… it's still more peaceful being with you than dealing with either Jack or your wives."

Adams burst out laughing, the sound rich and amused. "I feel you on that," he admitted, shaking his head.

But just as his laughter died down, he suddenly stopped walking. His expression shifted—subtle, but sharp. Without turning, he let out a slow sigh.

"Right… I almost forgot about the criminal low-lives of humans," he muttered.

From the alley up ahead, four figures stepped out, their movements cautious but predatory. Each one gripped a small knife, their dull blades catching the light from a nearby streetlamp. Their faces were a mix of arrogance and desperation, the kind of men who thought they'd found an easy target.

One of them—a tall guy with a buzz cut—tilted his chin up. "Alright, buddy. Wallet. Phone. Anything else you got."

Adams exhaled, rubbing the bridge of his nose like he was dealing with an annoying chore.

Awar, meanwhile, looked at the men with barely any interest, his shoulders slumping further. "Ugh… humans and their bad decisions," he mumbled, already knowing how this would end.

Adams let his hands slip out of his pockets and took a step forward.

The streetlights overhead flickered.

The air shifted.

And just like that, the city no longer felt the same.

Adams sighed, rolling his shoulders as he took another step forward. The four men tensed, gripping their knives tighter, but he just smirked. His hands were empty, his stance relaxed—too relaxed, like he didn't have a single care in the world.

"Gents," Adams said casually, his voice carrying through the quiet street. "Let's settle this like men that we are."

The men exchanged glances, unsure if he was mocking them or being serious. Buzz Cut scoffed, taking a step closer. "The hell does that mean?" he sneered. "You think this is some kind of game?"

Adams tilted his head, his smirk widening. "A game? No, no. A game needs some kind of challenge. This…" He gestured vaguely at the group. "This is just sad."

The air seemed to thicken. The neon lights overhead buzzed, flickering erratically. Even the distant hum of the city felt muted, like the world itself was holding its breath.

Awar yawned behind him, rubbing his eyes like he was already bored. "You guys should probably run," he mumbled, voice heavy with disinterest. "But I doubt you're smart enough to take advice."

One of the thugs, a guy with a scar running down his cheek, growled. "Tch. Cocky bastard." He lunged forward, knife flashing under the dim streetlight—

Then everything blurred.

A gust of wind rushed past, and before Scarface could even process what happened, his body stopped mid-motion. His knife never reached Adams. In fact, he wasn't even holding it anymore.

It clattered to the pavement.

The thug's hand trembled—his wrist bent at an unnatural angle. His breath hitched as a sharp pain shot through his nerves. He hadn't even seen Adams move.

"What the f—"

Scarface never finished his sentence.

Adams flicked his fingers, and an unseen force sent the man flying backward, smashing into a nearby dumpster with a sickening thud. He crumpled to the ground, unconscious.

The remaining three men froze.

Awar let out a low chuckle, rubbing his chin. "Well… that's one down."

Buzz Cut's eyes widened. "What the hell—"

Before he could react, Adams vanished from where he stood. A rush of air swept past, and suddenly—

CRACK!

Buzz Cut's head snapped back as Adams's fist buried itself into his gut. The impact sent shockwaves through his body, and for a brief moment, his feet left the ground. He gasped, choking on air, his entire body paralyzed from the force of the hit.

Then he collapsed, coughing violently, his legs giving out beneath him.

The last two thugs took a shaky step back. One of them—short and wiry—looked at Awar, who was still standing off to the side, arms crossed. "H-Hey… are you just gonna let him—"

Awar shrugged. "Not my problem."

Adams dusted off his hands, his expression as calm as ever. "Last chance, boys." He cocked his head, eyes gleaming under the flickering streetlight. "Walk away."

The two remaining thugs looked at their fallen friends, at Adams, then at each other.

They ran.

Adams sighed, watching them disappear down the street. "Smart choice."

Awar let out another yawn, stretching his arms behind his head. "Well, that was unnecessarily flashy."

Adams turned to him, smirking. "What can I say? I like to keep things entertaining."

Awar shook his head, stepping past the unconscious bodies on the ground. "Come on, let's go. I'd rather not be here when the cops show up."

Adams followed, slipping his hands back into his pockets. The night had returned to its usual quiet, as if nothing had happened.

Just another night in the city.

"You know about cops?"

"What can I say, I was listening."