Chaos' Heir

Chapter 1611 Mistake

The satisfying feeding time had distracted Khan, committing a mistake he would have never made in his previous, weaker state, creating an opening that the God didn't hesitate to exploit.

Such a high-level battle shouldn't have room for mistakes. It wasn't only a matter of the accumulated fighting experience. Both challengers were strong enough to inflict debilitating or even deadly blows during wide openings, which could influence the rest of their clash.

Yet, Khan had been unable to help himself. He was following his

instincts, and that reaction had fallen under the same category. That was his first proper meal after being reborn, so his body and mind had relaxed on their own.

Nevertheless, a reason for that existed, which still led back to Khan's new instincts.

Whatever had slammed and was still raging on Khan's back hurt, burning him while pushing him away. However, the pain was misleading. It came nowhere close to representing the damage Khan was suffering.

Khan fell prey to another instinctive reaction, stretching his arms, searching for handholds in the emptiness of space. His sharp fingers somehow found something and stabbed into it, creating some friction that went against his momentum.

The fabric of space split, becoming solid under Khan's touch so that he could use it to fight against the pushing force. His momentum was intense, more powerful than the world's structural integrity, leaving deep cuts in the vast nothingness as his figure gradually slowed down.

It was like sliding on the ground after a sudden stop, except on a far superior scale. Khan could treat the very space as nothing more than another surface, and his efforts eventually paid off.

Khan finally stopped, and the pushing force also waned. He peeked past his shoulder, spotting the two parallel grooves his hands had carved into the black emptiness before focusing on his back.

Some smoke came out of Khan's skin, but he found no injuries there. There weren't even any burns or redness. The attack had unleashed enough force to fling him away, but he remained virtually unharmed. That was the reason why Khan's mind hadn't sounded the alarms earlier. His instincts had remained silent because there had been nothing to fear. The God's sudden attack simply wasn't a threat to him.

Khan's awareness of his new state deepened as the fabric of space fixed itself. He had already guessed he would have been sturdy. After all, his entire state and superiority were condensed into his body now. However, the realization managed to surprise Khan anyway, albeit for reasons that involved his opponent.

The God wasn't playing around. That superior being didn't need tests or adjustment periods. He was already fully aware and in control of his power, meaning he had failed to exploit the opening, committing a mistake himself.

The sole idea that the God could have made such a blunder sounded ludicrous, but Khan couldn't find other explanations. He was almost sure the God had wanted to kill, or at least heavily wound, him with the previous attack, and his failure to do so hinted at something else. Despite all that superiority and greatness, the God had failed to evaluate Khan's innate defenses properly.

Usually, that wouldn't be a big deal, especially considering the situation.

Khan was an incredibly unique creature, a being born from the union of three powers that had never seen a single instance of a proper fusion. He was a novelty to the universe, someone the God couldn't have any knowledge of.

Still, ignorance didn't mean innocence, especially when it came to the True Chaos' God.

That superior being was attempting to become the very universe. A slight miscalculation on his side would have probably been unavoidable, but failing to hurt Khan completely implied a deeper issue.

It seemed that whatever Khan had become, it existed beyond the God's understanding and what he could predict.

Moreover, Khan knew that he could do much more. He felt it in his very bones. His entire body was itching to unleash its true power, whatever that implied.

Something condensed above Khan by the time the fabric of space completely fixed itself. The God's physical shape instantly materialized, looking down at him through his scarlet eyes.

Khan turned to match that look, believing he could spot something unusual in the God's emotionless expression. Actually, his silence and lack of immediate attacks spoke louder than words or mental

messages.

If Khan had to guess, he would think the God was surprised.

Of course, that break barely lasted a second before the battle picked up the pace again.

Khan didn't blink, but the scene in his obscuring vision instantly transformed. Hundreds of ellipses replaced the space's emptiness, covering it with gates that harbored a blackness similar to Khan's

eyes.

The blackness stirred, almost boiling, before a tide of annihilating darkness shot downward, planning to submerge Khan and everything in his distant surroundings.

By then, Khan had seen all sorts of beam attacks. They were among the simplest but most effective techniques in the end.

Yet, the descending tide of blackness ended up reminding Khan about

something else. Its color was misleading, and the same went for its temperature, but Khan felt a sense of familiarity with the Maker's final technique in that attack.

That conclusion was instinctive and relatively unfounded. Khan had made nothing more than a guess from the attack's energy signature. Nevertheless, Khan felt confident in that conclusion. Something in the descending energy's shape, the inaudible sounds it made, the pressure it applied on him, and even its smell, which Khan was somehow able to gauge, told him that he wasn't facing simple True Chaos.

'Is that what hit me earlier?' Khan wondered. The incoming attack might very well be instantaneous for ordinary evolved warriors, but he found the time to tilt his head and think, as well as focus on the itch stemming from his very bones.

And that itch accumulated, building up, becoming an urge Khan couldn't even attempt to suppress. He felt it pressing on his abdomen, rising through his throat, forcing his mouth open to paint the world red and fill it with his thundering might.