Hand Of God

Chapter 85 It’s a growing Sequence Weapon

“You mean… when did you realize I was…”

Diana pointed at the box of ice cream, her voice barely above a whisper.

She’d had it all planned out. Over the next few days, she’d use her online persona “Icecream” to gently probe Adam, drop hints, build up to the reveal. Her birthday was coming up in about ten days—she’d invite him out as “Icecream,” then finally confess her real identity in person.

After all, they were both superhumans at the same university. Long-term collaboration was inevitable. Keeping up the charade forever wasn’t practical.

But then this happened—completely derailing her carefully laid scheme.

“Oh, this?” Adam said, scratching his head. “The store was out of ice milk. Ice cream was all they had left.”

“Is this… an acceptable substitute?”

“What?!” Diana’s eyes widened. *That’s it? That’s the whole reason?!*

A storm of emotions crashed over her—relief, disappointment, confusion. But then, oddly, a sense of clarity.

*Better to rip the bandage off now.*

She took the box from him and sat down on the edge of the bed, head lowered.

“No… you didn’t get it wrong.” Her voice was soft, almost shy. “Ice cream… is actually my favorite.”

She’d layered the sentence with just enough implication—testing, hoping he’d connect the dots.

But Adam just said, “Oh.”

He was still preoccupied with the mission report.

Frustration flared in Diana’s chest. *Fine. If he won’t figure it out, I’ll have to spell it out myself.*

“Alright,” she sighed. “What happened? Sit down and tell me.”

Adam glanced around. “Uh… there’s no chair. Should I make one out of ice?”

“Just sit on the bed,” she said, shifting slightly to give him space—about a meter’s worth.

“Well… my clothes might be dirty,” he hedged.

*Then take them off—* The words nearly slipped out before she caught herself.

*This isn’t online. Act normal.*

In the end, Adam laid a blanket over the sheets and sat beside her, quickly summarizing the encounter—and handing over the strange rod he’d taken from the Acolyte.

Diana listened, then shook off her lingering embarrassment and focused. “Only one Acolyte? That’s unusual—they rarely operate alone.”

“And he mentioned their plan was disrupted?”

“Either way, thanks for handling it. I’ll file the report and get a cleanup team dispatched ASAP.”

She pulled out her phone and began making calls—smooth, efficient, authoritative. As a newly appointed Super Elite of the Best Elite Alliance (BEA), she’d long since mastered the bureaucracy of the superhuman world.

Adam was grateful. If he’d had to navigate all this red tape alone, he’d be pulling his hair out by now.

Once the logistics were sorted, Diana finally took the rod from Adam’s hand.

She turned it over, tested its weight, ran her fingers along its surface—then handed it back.

“This is likely a Deity-enchanted weapon, but it hasn’t reached Sequence Weapon status.”

“Sequence Weapon?” Adam frowned. “What’s that?”

He’d heard the term before—at the Opening Ceremony, his sparring partner had wielded a sword he called a Sequence Weapon. But Adam still didn’t understand what that actually meant.

Diana paused, realizing Adam had only been enrolled for a few days before being dragged into fieldwork.

“Sequence Weapons,” she explained, “are artifacts imbued with power directly by a Deity. They possess unique abilities and can significantly enhance a superhuman’s strength.”

“They’re classified by tier—ranging from S-001 to F-999—based on potency and complexity.”

“But because they carry a Deity’s influence—some call it a curse—they can cause severe mental corruption. To wield one safely, you must register it with the United Human Government (UHG).”

She picked up the rod again. “This? The energy signature is too weak. And it’s damaged. Definitely not a full Sequence Weapon.”

Adam studied the object, puzzled. *Then how did it level a wall with a single swing?*

Suddenly, an idea struck him.

He reached into his space-superpower ring and dumped a pile of loot onto the floor—trinkets, daggers, amulets, all scavenged from the Acolyte traffickers he’d eliminated at Doyles Stadium.

“I thought these were just fancy junk,” he said. “Was gonna sell them off someday.”

Diana’s eyes widened. “Good thing you didn’t. If even *one* of these is a Sequence Weapon, it’d be incredibly valuable.”

“Yeah,” Adam nodded eagerly. “And if it *is* a Sequence Weapon… it’d be worth way more, right?”

Diana shot him a look of utter exasperation. *Of course he’s thinking about the price.*

She began inspecting the items one by one.

“This one’s not.”

“Way below threshold.”

“What… is this?” She held up the ornate silver scepter, baffled. “Why would a Deity enchant something so… theatrical?”

After a thorough check, she shook her head. “Nothing here qualifies. Low-tier Acolytes wouldn’t carry real Sequence Weapons anyway.”

“These are safe to sell—just run them through decontamination at the university first.”

But the moment she said that—

—something changed.

From the scattered artifacts on the floor, faint, invisible streams of energy began to rise—like mist drawn by a magnet—and flowed steadily into the short rod in Adam’s hand.

The energy was intangible… yet to two trained superhumans, the resonance was as clear as daylight.

Diana’s breath caught.

Her pupils contracted. Her mouth fell slightly open. Even her posture shifted—leaning forward, tense with realization.

One thought exploded in her mind:

*This rod… it’s not just a fragment.*

*It’s a growing Sequence Weapon.*

A type so rare, it had only existed in theory—never confirmed in the modern era.