Jack Kadere had a gift for killing momentum. Hippolyta had just rallied everyone's fighting spirit, and one sentence from him deflated it completely.
Even Hippolyta went quiet.
Diana glared at him, about to say something, when black tentacles lashed toward her.
The Sword of Hephaestus flashed out.
Swish. Swish. Swish.
The tentacles dropped in pieces. The blade deserved its reputation—Hephaestus hadn't named it after himself for nothing. It cut at the subatomic level.
While Diana severed tentacles, the Firstborn was already charging at Jack.
Seven thousand years. He'd spent seven thousand years clawing his way up from the Earth's core, dragging monstrous hatred behind him like a second skin.
Originally, he'd only wanted what was his by right. The throne.
Now he wanted annihilation. Gods. Humans. Everything.
No one had been able to stop him—until Jack Kadere appeared. Not a god, yet wielding godlike power. Power enough to kill gods.
The Firstborn had been defeated. Completely.
But then he'd won again. Apollo had dragged him back to Olympus, tried to break him, tried to force submission. The Firstborn had killed him instead. Killed the gods on Olympus and grown stronger from it. Killed Poseidon. Killed Hades. Even killed Cassandra, who'd followed and helped him.
He'd come here believing he was finally strong enough.
Carrying vengeance.
His power now dwarfed what it had been. Even if Jack could match him—it would only be matching the old him.
"Die!"
The Firstborn's fist rocketed forward like a cruise missile.
BANG.
Their fists collided. The impact sent Jack skidding backward, boots carving twin furrows through solid stone for a dozen meters before he stopped.
Diana stared. Firestorm stared. Hera stared.
This was the first time any of them had seen Jack Kadere lose a contest of raw strength.
Impossible.
Under their shocked gazes, Jack casually shook out his arm—fractured, from the look of it. The bone would knit back together in seconds.
"So... five times?" He sounded genuinely curious rather than concerned, studying the Firstborn with interest.
"Your power increased fivefold since our last meeting. Did you gain that by devouring the gods' flesh, or by absorbing their divine sources?" He tilted his head. "Probably not the latter—individuals can hold multiple sources, but with the New Gods rising, the old gods can barely manage it anymore. Must be an innate ability."
His smile turned speculative. "You're such an anomaly among the old gods. I'm starting to wonder if the Source Wall deliberately used you to cull them."
"No one uses me!" The Firstborn didn't understand half of what Jack said, but he rejected it anyway.
"If you were being used, you wouldn't know." Jack raised an eyebrow. "So. Round two?"
"Die!"
The Firstborn charged again.
Jack didn't move. Didn't tense. He rolled his shoulders like he was working out a kink, then lazily swung his arm to meet the incoming fist.
"Infinite Superposition. Tenfold."
BANG.
The shockwave blasted outward like a hurricane, flattening everything in its radius. The Firstborn's body rocketed backward, punched clean through a distant mountain.
The mountain collapsed on top of him.
"You... you..." Diana had driven the Sword of Hephaestus into the ground to anchor herself against the blast. She stared at Jack, speechless.
"You didn't actually think I'd lose?" He laughed. "That's not funny."
"I let him push me back so I could measure how much stronger he'd gotten. Then I could crush him by a proportional margin." He spread his hands. "Why would I sandbag when everyone here already knows what I can do? There's no audience to impress."
Last time, he'd beaten the Firstborn with double the power. This time, the Firstborn had grown five times stronger—so Jack hit him with ten times the force.
Any more than that and the poor bastard might lose the will to live.
Rumble.
Rubble shifted on the far side of the collapsed mountain. The Firstborn clawed his way out, teeth bared, eyes blazing with fury as he locked onto Jack.
A heartbeat later, he was in front of him again.
Bang.
One punch.
The Firstborn flew backward.
He charged again, snarling.
Bang.
Another punch.
Backward again.
Jack stood in place like a batter at home plate, swatting the Firstborn away every time he came within reach.
Bang.
He knocked him back once more, then glanced at Diana, who was still staring. "If I were you, I'd go help with the monsters."
"Ah—"
Diana snapped out of it. The Firstborn wasn't the only enemy on Paradise Island. She spun and threw herself back into the fight.
The Amazons' morale surged.
Hippolyta's speech had made them fearless—willing to die fighting. But watching Jack casually bat the Firstborn around like a toy gave them something better: confidence. The psychological certainty that victory was already theirs.
Every warrior on that battlefield became braver. Fiercer.
Meanwhile, the Firstborn kept getting knocked flying. Over and over. Completely unable to land a blow, just like last time.
His hatred swelled. His power swelled with it.
Rage drowned out rational thought. Energy erupted from within him. The black tentacles at his back twisted, reformed, stretched into demonic wings that began frantically draining vitality and energy from the surrounding area. The space behind him darkened, turning hollow and void.
"Is he powering up?"
Jack sighed. "I hate fighters who pull this mid-battle transformation crap."
He watched the Firstborn's metamorphosis with mild irritation. "I'll give you this—you probably feel incredible right now. Probably thinking you can finally tear the world apart." He cracked his knuckles. "It won't help. Reality is cruel."
He was already moving, fist cocked back.
The Firstborn's surging power met him head-on, throwing everything he had into a single devastating punch.
Infinite Superposition. Fifty times.
"I... am the reality."
BANG.
Jack's fist crushed through the Firstborn's fist, then his arm, driving forward like a freight train.
The Firstborn exploded.