The desolate landscape seemed to hold its breath as Adams and Laden faced each other. The ground beneath them cracked and trembled, as if the earth itself knew what was about to happen—an inevitable clash between father and son. The howling wind was the only sound between them, a mournful wail that swept through the barren wasteland like a warning.
Laden's cold eyes remained fixed on Adams, who stood bruised and bloodied, barely able to hold himself upright. There was no mercy in Laden's gaze, only a chilling determination. His son had chosen to stand against him, and now, there was no going back.
Adams clenched his fists, his entire body screaming in protest with every movement. He could feel the warmth of fresh blood trickling down his side, seeping through the bandages wrapped around his torso. Each breath was a battle, each step an act of defiance against the agony coursing through him. But even as pain ravaged his body, his spirit remained unbroken.
