The Omnipotent System

The night was heavy with the scent of blood and the echoes of a battle now past. A pale-looking woman knelt in the dirt, her elegant gown stained with mud and her brother's lifeblood. Around them lay the fallen remnants of their escort, soldiers who had given their lives in a desperate attempt to fend off an unexpected ambush.

The scene was chaotic: bodies sprawled across the ground, weapons scattered like discarded toys, and the flicker of dying torches casting an eerie glow over the battlefield.

The woman's eyes, once sharp and proud, were now wide with fear and desperation. Her wavy black hair, which usually cascaded gracefully down her back, was tangled and matted, clinging to her tear-streaked cheeks. Her hazel eyes, full of life and vigor, now mirrored the anguish in her heart.

Her pink lips, which had often been the source of regal commands and gentle reassurances, now trembled as she pleaded for help that seemed beyond reach.

Her brother, lying on the ground before her, was a sight that tore at her heart. He was a young man in his early twenties, his once vibrant face now ashen with the pallor of impending death. His eyes, a mirror of his sister's hazel depths, glimmered with both pain and acceptance.

A jagged wound marred his chest, the crimson stain spreading across his tunic a stark testament to the ferocity of the attack they had endured. Despite the agony etched into his features, he managed a weak smile for his sister, trying to offer her comfort in what he believed to be his final moments.

"Please help me, somebody, please, I beg of you," the woman cried out again, her voice cracking with desperation. Her words were met with the silence of the night, punctuated only by the distant call of a night bird and the rustle of leaves in the gentle breeze. She turned back to her brother, her hands hovering over his wound, helpless in the face of his suffering.

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"Don't worry about me," her brother said, his voice barely more than a whisper. He grimaced as pain lanced through him but forced himself to continue, "Even if you manage to find someone, by the time we reach a healer, I'll be long gone. Save your strength."

His words were intended to comfort, but they only deepened her sorrow. She shook her head fiercely, refusing to accept the inevitability of his words. Her tears fell unchecked, mingling with the dirt and blood beneath her knees.

"No, no, I can't lose you," she whispered, her voice thick with grief. "Not like this. There has to be a way."

Her brother's hand reached up weakly to touch her face, his fingers brushing against her cheek. "You've always been the strong one," he murmured, a faint smile on his lips. "Remember when we used to play in the gardens, how you'd always beat me in every game? You've got that same strength now. You'll find a way."

The woman let out a choked sob, clutching his hand tightly as if she could anchor him to this world through sheer will alone. Around them, the battlefield lay silent, save for the distant crackle of the dying torches and the gentle sigh of the wind through the trees. The moon hung high in the sky, casting its pale light over the scene, turning the blood-slick ground to silver.

In the aftermath of the ambush, the remnants of the fight were starkly visible. The fallen soldiers lay scattered, their armor glinting dully in the moonlight. Each one had fought bravely to protect their charges, and now they lay as silent sentinels in death. Swords, shields, and spears were strewn about, some still clutched in lifeless hands, others lying abandoned where they had been dropped.

Her brother's words haunted her as she surveyed the scene, the memories of their childhood mingling with the grim reality of the present. She remembered those days in the gardens, the sun-dappled afternoons where the only battles they fought were pretend ones with wooden swords. The carefree laughter of youth seemed a lifetime away now, and the woman wished desperately for that innocence to return.

"Don't talk like that," she pleaded, her voice barely more than a whisper. "We're not done fighting yet. You're not done fighting."

But even as she spoke, she could feel his grip weakening, his strength ebbing away like water through her fingers. She fought back the rising tide of panic, her mind racing for solutions, for any way to stave off the inevitable.

Her brother's eyes flickered, a shadow passing over his features as he struggled to stay conscious. He opened his mouth as if to speak, but a cough wracked his body, blood flecking his lips as he gasped for breath. The woman's heart twisted with helplessness as she watched him suffer, her own breath coming in ragged gasps.

Suddenly, a flicker of movement caught her eye. She turned her head, hope flaring within her as a figure emerged from the shadows of the forest. The moonlight revealed a tall, imposing man with a commanding presence. He wore a dark cloak that billowed around him like a shadow, and his eyes gleamed with an intensity that sent a shiver down her spine.

"Who goes there?" she called out, her voice edged with both hope and suspicion. She didn't know whether this newcomer was friend or foe, but any chance at saving her brother was worth the risk.

The stranger paused, assessing the scene before him with a measured gaze. His eyes lingered on the fallen soldiers, the broken weapons, and finally the woman and her brother. He stepped closer, his movements fluid and purposeful.

"I thought I heard the sound of someone crying, so I decided to come see what the problem was" said the stranger with a smile on his face as he surveyed the place, "bloody bollocks, what in the hell happened here, oh don't tell me"

The man said as he raised his hands before smiling the next moment "ahh, family drama. Never gets old, does it?" He said still with his smile never leaving his face.

"Who are you?" The woman said not drawing the man's attention back to her or so she thought, "I won't repeat myself again"

[Hahahahaha]

The burst out laughing unable to understand how someone who is so helpless and in dere need of help could boldly threaten him whom has the power to reshape the entire Divine Plane with nothing but a snap of his fingers but he was not here for her, instead he was here for the dying man.

He ignored her and walked to the man and bent down, "I'm Adams Albert and I am here to make you a deal"