The Epic Tale of Chaos vs Order

Chapter 1832: ALL HAIL ADAM

Just like everyone else in the castle, his skin was white—pale as moon-bleached marble, stripped of all color. His eyes, however, were something else entirely. Pitch black. Abyssal wells of psychic energy that seemed to spiral endlessly inward, as if they could swallow entire worlds with a glance.

He stood still, brooding over the interaction he’d just had with Divine Calamity, when a voice cut through the silence like a sharpened blade.

"Pathetic."

The Inferno Human Hybrid turned sharply as he saw the one who had dared to enter his abode.

Standing beside him was a young woman clad in the same black robe adorned with white spirals. She was small—no more than one meter seventy—but her presence was monumental. Her face was stunning, statuesque in its perfection, her white skin flawless like polished stone, her dark eyes gleaming with disdain.

"All that talent," she sneered, focusing on the now-faded image of Divine Calamity. "An ArchDeity, and yet his willpower is so pitiful he can barely handle the pressure of failure, asking you for help once more. Are the people of the Nine Empyrean Suns really so disappointing?"

As she spoke, something terrible flickered beneath the surface of her form.

For a heartbeat, the beautiful woman was gone.

In her place stood an entity so horrifying it could freeze the blood of even the most wicked monsters: a towering demonic figure cloaked in shadow, with cascading black hair, curved horns, and a pale, mask-like face streaked with veins of ink. A third eye glowed red in the center of its forehead, and its lips stretched into a jagged, blood-stained grin. Behind it floated a blazing dark sigil, pulsing with chaotic divinity and ancient wrath.

Then, in an instant, it was gone. She returned to her normal form, as if nothing had happened.

The hybrid showed no reaction to the nightmare that replaced the woman for a moment, and instead simply answered her question. "Extremely talented and surprisingly feeble conviction and willpower. Those are the perfect paws. I am sure the Nine Empyrean Suns have strong people, but they are not the ones I can rely on to do my bidding."

Her cold gaze turned toward the man beside her and softly nodded before speaking.

"He’s calling us."

The hybrid nodded once, rising from where he stood.

As he moved, his form, too, flickered and shifted.

What emerged was something wholly unnatural. A towering, amorphous shadow looms, its form rippling like living darkness. Its body is composed of swirling, inky black mist, from which dozens of elongated, clawed hands emerge—twisting and reaching with unnatural intent.

Unblinking white eyes, scattered unevenly across its mass, stare out in every direction, giving it a sense of omnipresent awareness. The creature seems to pulse with an ancient, otherworldly malice, as though it were a manifestation of forbidden power that could break any man’s will. Its presence distorts the air, silent yet oppressive, like a nightmare made real.

Then, just as quickly, the illusion faded. He was once again the handsome hybrid—part Inferno Daemon, part Godslayer Human.

Without another word, the two began walking through the dark castle’s innermost sanctum.

They were deep now—so deep that the walls of reality themselves began to warp. Few beings could even enter this part of the structure. The pressure here was immense, and those who roamed these corridors, though few in number, radiated a power that could eclipse the sun.

However, even those impressive figures bowed as the pair passed.

Not out of fear, but from a place of deep reverence. Heads lowered, eyes averted, hearts steady with solemn respect.

It didn’t take long before they reached the gates.

Enormous, ancient, unyielding. They towered high above, carved with forgotten runes and coated in a patina of eternity. They looked like they had existed before time and would outlast the death of creation itself.

And without a word or a touch, they opened.

Beyond the gates lay not a hall, but something much more impressive. There was no floor, no ceiling. The space felt unbound, suspended in an alien dimension where time had no dominion. Only two things gave the place shape: two colossal hands that stretched out of the void, fingers extended toward the abyss.

And atop eight of those fingers sat robed figures.

Each wore the black-and-white spiral robes. Their faces were obscured, but any attempt to focus on them revealed something else: each figure was a nightmare incarnate. To look too long was to see ancient gods, twisted beasts, impossible geometries. They weren’t people. They were myths given form.

The hybrid and the woman calmly took their places atop the remaining two fingers.

Now, all ten were assembled.

The pressure in the void thickened. And yet, none of them spoke. None of them moved. Despite the sheer power they each held—enough to annihilate pantheons—they sat in perfect, reverent silence.

Nearly an hour passed before the air began to stir.

And then...

He descended.

From a dimension so deep, even their eyes—eyes capable of piercing fate and soul—could not see its source. Reality groaned, trembled. Colors bled into one another. A symphony of vibrations, at once majestic and horrific, echoed through the void.

And finally, He appeared.

Cloaked in robes of flowing black and ivory spirals, the Great One arrived.

But no mere cloak could hide the nightmare that he was.

A towering phantom, impossibly vast. His face lay hidden beneath a hood, but beneath it was a gaping maw, filled with inward-curving, razor-sharp teeth. A dark, spiked crown adorned his head, wrought of skulls, hanging chains, and ancient metal that defied definition. Wings of shadow stretched behind him, black tendrils rooted into the abyss, bound in iron chains—not to imprison, but to restrain a divine wrath that could unmake worlds.

His presence alone could eclipse entire Empyrean Worlds. He was not a being. He was a force.

The ten bowed, fists clenched to their chests, and spoke in unison.

"We salute you, Great One. First of Your Kind. Traveler of Dream and Nightmare."

They paused, breathless.

Then, together, they shouted with voices that echoed across realms.

"ALL HAIL ADAM, FATHER OF THE GODSLAYER HUMANKIND!"