Enemies were closing in from all around, it was only a matter of time before they ganged up on him and he was defeated. Had he been at the peak of his powers, these fools would have been nothing but helpless, hapless victims. However, the mighty had long fallen. Omega had come to realize that his 20.000 year self-imposed exile from the lands of the living had taken it's toll on his once substantial power, and he would need to kill to reach the peak he had once held. However, despite being outnumbered, he held the significant advantage of surprise, as neither of those who faced him understood the truth behind his existence. One favor the passage of time had done him was to erase his legend, and his existence was a complete unknown in the eyes of the modern world.
A large rock hurled down from above. Potentially he could have stepped backwards out of the range of the attack. After all, while powerful, it wasn't a particularly subtle nor a stealthy attack, and it would be relatively easy to dodge. However, in order to do that he'd have to retreat, leaving himself open to attack from the second fool who came his way. Instead, he stepped into the cartoon madman's attack, the hammer striking the Host's chest, even as the ancient bones are cracked. However, even as the boulder crashes through his skull, it hurtles straight through, hitting Teo in the face, who had been far too distracted with striking his opponent. The two who had attacked him were both a threat, but it would be far easier to have them wipe one another out.
While his skull was ripped from his throat, and his ribs were reduced to ancient powder, none of this truly hurt Omega. He was not an organic being, not a creature of flesh and bone, reliant on internal organs to keep moving. The Host that held him was but a medium, a compensation for his lack of limbs. His senses were in no way impeded by what, to any other being, would be significant if not lethal damage. As such, he had the full time to perform another swing, abusing the time in between the strike, and the realization of a counterattack. To add even more damage, the singing black balde struck at the purple skinned priest, the tip scraping bone as he nicked her skull. If necessary, he would take down every man here, one by one, and rise once more as a force of nature.