They didn't all die at once.
Some of Adam's forces—the ones bound to his will, linked to his light—simply stopped. Mid-swing. Mid-stride. Mid-scream. Their eyes went blank. Their bodies crumpled. They hit the ground like puppets with cut strings.
Others screamed.
Those were the ones who'd been with Adam the longest. The ones who'd believed. The ones who'd convinced themselves that his vision was righteous, that the sacrifices were necessary, that the end justified every horror along the way.
They felt him go. Felt the Authority tear loose. Felt the absence where their god had been.
Some fell to their knees. Some clawed at their own faces. Some just... walked away, staring at nothing, mumbling words that didn't make sense.
The angels went first.
Their halos flickered, dimmed, died. Their wings turned grey, then cracked, then crumbled. They didn't scream. They just... stopped existing. One moment they were there. The next, they were dust.
The human followers went next.
