Adam didn't attack the net. He attacked the idea of the net. The concept of their unified will.
He clenched his raised fists and pulled them down, as if yanking on two invisible ropes connected to the heart of the sky.
For a second, nothing happened.
Then, a sound. Not a boom. Not a bang.
A pop.
A single, clean, impossibly loud pop, like the universe itself had snapped its fingers.
The vast, tightening net of divine light didn't shatter. It ceased. One moment it was there, a cage of unimaginable power. The next, it was simply not.
The effect wasn't contained. The pop rippled outwards in a silent, expanding sphere.
Where it touched the rank and file of the Heavenly Host, they didn't explode. They didn't burn. They just… stopped being. The legions of seraphim, the powers in their armor, the countless angels—they winked out of existence, as if someone had erased them from a painting. Tens of thousands, gone in the span of a heartbeat.
