Lightning tore through the heavens. This was no battle, but a one-sided slaughter.
Teth-Adam hovered in midair, his gaze as cold as ancient ice, pouring out the power within him without restraint.
The raging lightning dancing at his fingertips became blue-white tendrils of death, mercilessly harvesting the lives of the surrounding mercenaries.
Amid a series of deafening sonic booms and desperate screams, thunder utterly drowned out the roar of gunfire and artillery. The last armed fighters spasmed in the searing electrical arcs and burned to charcoal.
Adam swept an indifferent glance over the wreckage and burning debris strewn across the ground. Without a trace of mercy or a moment's pause, he became a blade of lightning that shot skyward, instantly tearing through the clouds and vanishing over the distant horizon.
Meanwhile, in the quiet hall of the Tower of Fate, a hint of gravity suddenly crossed Kent Nelson's previously calm face.
He sensed the violent divine power raging through the world, like a hurricane suddenly sweeping across a placid lake.
He slowly approached the stone pedestal at the center of the hall, his gaze settling on the Helmet of Fate resting there in silent reverence.
Mysterious, ancient magical patterns flowed across the dark gold helmet's surface, as though whispering and resonating without a sound.
Kent drew a deep breath, solemnly lifted the helmet with both hands, closed his eyes, and slowly placed it on his head.
The instant the cold metal settled fully against his cheeks, a tremendous power descended with a crash.
Brilliant golden crosses lit up Doctor Fate's eyes. Magic replaced the physical laws of the reality around him, and time and space intertwined and reassembled before his eyes.
Amid the tangled visions, he clearly saw the horrifying work Teth-Adam had just left behind: charred corpses scattered everywhere