The first thing Adam became aware of was the overwhelming sensation of cold. It wasn't the icy chill of winter air or the dampness of freezing water—it was deeper, more pervasive, as though the very essence of his being was submerged in frost. It was an unfamiliar, bone-deep cold that he hadn't felt in years.
He gasped sharply, his lungs burning as they dragged in the air for the first time. His body convulsed, and for a terrifying moment, he couldn't move. He felt heavy—so much heavier than he'd been as the Nuclear Sentinel, where his energy-infused body had felt weightless, a vessel of pure power. Now, his limbs felt weak, and uncooperative, as though they didn't belong to him.
Where am I?
Adam forced his eyes open, and for a moment, all he could see was light—brilliant, golden sunlight streaming down from a sky that seemed far too blue, too pristine to be real. The soft rustling of trees and the chirping of birds surrounded him, a stark contrast to the chaos and destruction of his final moments on Earth.
He blinked several times, his vision gradually sharpening. He was lying on his back in a clearing surrounded by towering trees with bark as white as marble and leaves that shimmered with an almost iridescent green hue. The ground beneath him was soft, covered in a carpet of moss and small white flowers that glowed faintly, as though imbued with their own light.
The air was crisp and clean, carrying the faint scent of pine and wildflowers. For a moment, Adam simply lay there, breathing it in, his mind trying to process the unfamiliar sensations.
This isn't Earth, he thought. Vaeloria…
The memory of the deity's words came rushing back to him: the glowing expanse, the plea for help, the promise of a new beginning. He had agreed to take on the mantle of a savior once more, to protect this new world from its looming darkness.
But as he tried to sit up, the weakness in his limbs reminded him of the price of his rebirth. He gritted his teeth, pushing himself upright despite the discomfort.
"Damn," Adam muttered under his breath, his voice hoarse and unfamiliar to his own ears. "What the hell kind of body did they give me?"
A Weakened Form
Adam's hands trembled slightly as he held them up to examine them. His skin, once golden and radiant with the energy of his nuclear core, was now pale and unremarkable. His fingers, calloused from years of battle, were now smooth and slender, as though they belonged to someone who had never lifted a weapon in their life.
He reached up to touch his face, his fingers brushing against sharp cheekbones and a jawline that felt slightly different than the one he remembered. His body felt smaller, leaner, and far weaker than the towering, energy-infused physique he had possessed as the Nuclear Sentinel.
"Great," Adam muttered, his voice tinged with frustration. "From living nuclear weapon to… whatever this is."
Still, as he flexed his fingers and tested his movements, he could feel a faint, familiar hum deep within his core—a flicker of the power that had once defined him. It wasn't gone, but it was faint, buried beneath layers of unfamiliar weakness.
I still have it, he thought with relief. The nuclear core is still there. It's just… dormant.
His relief was short-lived, however, as the sound of rustling leaves reached his ears. Adam froze, his instincts honed from years of combat kicking in. He quickly scanned the treeline, his gaze sharp despite his weakened state.
A Dangerous First Encounter
The rustling grew louder, and Adam's energy sense—duller than it used to be, but still functional—picked up a faint presence moving toward him. It wasn't human, and whatever it was radiated hostility.
Adam clenched his fists, his mind racing. He had no idea what kind of threats this world held, and in his current state, he doubted he could fend off anything too powerful.
The creature stepped into the clearing, and Adam's eyes widened slightly. It was a feral beast, standing on four muscular legs with dark fur that bristled like needles. Its eyes glowed red, and jagged horns curled back from its head. It snarled, baring sharp, bloodstained fangs.
Adam instinctively reached for the energy within him, trying to summon a shield or a blast—but nothing happened. He gritted his teeth, his frustration mounting. His body felt like a rusted machine, unable to perform the simplest of functions.
The beast growled low in its throat and lunged at him, moving with startling speed for its size. Adam threw himself to the side, narrowly avoiding its snapping jaws. He hit the ground hard, pain lancing through his shoulder.
I'm too slow, he realized grimly.
The beast circled him, its glowing eyes locked onto him as though sensing his weakness. Adam forced himself to his feet, raising his fists despite knowing how little good they would do.
"Come on, then," he muttered, his voice steady despite the odds. "Let's see if this body can still fight."
The beast lunged again, and this time, Adam managed to sidestep the attack. He threw a punch at its side, his fist connecting with its ribs. The impact sent a faint jolt of energy through his arm, but it wasn't nearly enough to harm the creature.
The beast snarled in annoyance and turned on him, swiping at him with its massive claws. Adam raised his arm to block, but the blow sent him sprawling to the ground.
I can't keep this up, he thought, his breathing labored. Not like this.
As the beast loomed over him, preparing to strike, Adam's instincts screamed at him to move. He rolled to the side just as the creature's claws slammed into the ground where he had been moments before, sending dirt and moss flying.
Think, Adam. Use what you have.
His eyes darted to the glowing white flowers scattered across the clearing. Their faint light reminded him of the energy he used to wield. It was a long shot, but it was the only chance he had.
Adam reached out, his hand brushing against one of the flowers. He focused, willing the faint energy within him to connect with it. To his surprise, the flower's light brightened, and a tiny thread of energy surged through his hand.
It wasn't much, but it was enough.
As the beast lunged at him again, Adam threw his hand forward, releasing the energy in a desperate blast. The golden light struck the creature square in the chest, sending it reeling backward with a pained yelp.
Adam staggered to his feet, breathing heavily. The beast snarled, its movements unsteady as it glared at him with hateful eyes. But it didn't attack again. Instead, it let out a low growl and retreated into the forest, disappearing into the shadows.
Adam collapsed to his knees, his body trembling from the effort. His hand still glowed faintly with the remnants of the energy he had channeled, but it faded quickly, leaving him feeling even more drained.
A World Unknown
For a moment, Adam simply sat there, catching his breath. The encounter had left him shaken—not because of the danger, but because of how weak he had felt. He had been the Nuclear Sentinel, a god among men, capable of leveling mountains with a single punch. Now, he was struggling to fend off a single beast.
But despite the frustration, Adam felt a flicker of determination. He had survived. He had fought back. And he would get stronger.
"This world isn't going to protect itself," he muttered, forcing himself to his feet. "If I'm going to save it, I need to figure out how to use this power again."
As he looked toward the horizon, where the golden light of the setting sun bathed the treetops, Adam clenched his fists.
He wasn't the Nuclear Sentinel anymore. But he was still Adam Vaelor.
And he would protect this world.