The Epic Tale of Chaos vs Order

Chapter 1954: Twenty percent stronger

Instead of feeling fear at the blood and energy flooding out of him, a sharp thrill flashed through Cain’s eyes. He could see it clearly—the microscopic machines were working with mechanical precision, enhancing his blood vessels and energy pathways.

The vessels expanded, growing thicker, denser, and far more robust than before. He could already tell they would carry blood much faster and endure far greater pressure without tearing. That was excellent news for the Primordial Asura Form. After all, it was far from pleasant to have every blood vessel inside him rupture whenever he activated Ninth Gear.

His energy pathways were undergoing the same treatment. They expanded in diameter, their walls reinforced, allowing vastly greater amounts of energy to surge through them at a far faster rate. Every pulse of power would now reach its destination almost instantly.

Cain was in genuine awe at how the machines operated. The transformation demanded a constant supply of energy, which they produced by self-detonating in controlled bursts, breaking apart into core components. These components, in turn, became material for the others to continue the upgrade process. It was an endless cycle of sacrifice and rebuilding.

Five days passed before the microscopic army completed its work on his blood vessels and energy pathways. Then, like a disciplined legion, they marched deeper—into his bones and marrow.

If there had been pain before, it was nothing compared to what followed.

The agony was absolute. Even with his monstrous willpower, Cain could not stop his teeth from grinding together. The machines drilled into his bones, fusing with his marrow, reinforcing density, and enhancing resilience. They refined the atomic structure itself, improving elasticity and flexibility without sacrificing strength.

More and more of the microscopic machines self-destructed to produce the necessary materials for this phase. It took another five full days before the alterations to his skeletal system were complete. By then, Cain’s body was drenched in cold sweat, his breathing heavy. The process had been nothing short of a waking nightmare.

When the blood vessels, energy pathways, and bones were complete, eighty percent of the machines left his body, returning to their containment units. The remaining twenty percent stayed behind, permanently integrated into Cain’s upgraded form.

The first part of the procedure had been excruciating, but there was no rest. The program operating the process saw him as nothing more than a war puppet—since when did one pause to give a machine a break from pain?

He was carried several thousand meters farther along the manufacturing chain until he found himself suspended between two massive containers—one above, one below. Before he could fully register what was happening, an invisible force grabbed hold of his body and dropped him into the lower container.

A pool of molten plasma awaited him.

The heat was so intense that he instinctively shielded his eyes, but otherwise, he did nothing to resist. If he wanted to obtain the full benefit of this upgrade, he had to act exactly as a war machine would—allowing the process to run without interference.

The molten plasma was a strange substance. It seared him down to the soul, the heat so extreme it felt as though it was trying to unmake him. And yet, beneath the pain, he could sense its purpose. It was purging every single impurity in his flesh, muscles, and bones, leaving behind nothing but the purest, strongest form they could achieve.

After nearly an hour submerged in that hellish bath, a force lifted him from the plasma and carried him back into the distribution chain. But the respite was short-lived.

Formations lit up around him in all directions, unleashing overwhelming gravitational forces from every side. The pressure was so immense that even his newly reinforced bones began to crack, and his muscles strained to the very edge of their resilience.

Just when it seemed he would be crushed entirely, the runes faded.

Before he could recover, the chain propelled him upward—into the container above.

This one was filled with a cold, luminous liquid that embraced his burning body like the touch of a healer’s hand. The sensation was indescribably refreshing, not only cooling his temperature but flooding him with pure life force. His wounds knit together, and vitality returned to his limbs.

Unfortunately, the comfort didn’t last. Just as relief began to show on his face, the force pulled him out of the water and hurled him back into the molten plasma.

From there, the cycle repeated again and again—molten plasma to burn and purify, crushing gravity to temper and strengthen, cold restorative waters to heal and replenish.

Cain couldn’t help but think of it as a blacksmith’s process: first heating the metal in fire, then striking it on the anvil, and finally quenching it in water. Only, in this case, he was the metal being reforged.

The relentless cycle lasted for fifteen more days. By the time it ended, Cain was moved into the final stage of the manufacturing chain.

Streams of concentrated vitality were injected directly into his body, stabilizing his condition. The surge was constant, lasting nearly two and a half days, until finally... it was over.

When Cain stepped out of the manufacturing chain, a rush of exhilaration filled him—just before his legs gave out and he collapsed to the ground.

He was utterly spent.

Every stage of the process had been brutal beyond words. Even the final infusion of vitality, though meant to restore him, had been overwhelming—like being forced to drink gallons upon gallons of water until his body threatened to reject it all.

Since there were still a couple of days before the deadline, Cain closed his eyes right there on the floor of the massive skull-shaped forge and allowed himself to rest.

Sixteen hours later, he finally stirred. His eyes opened, and a wide grin spread across his face, brimming with excitement.

Glancing down at himself, Cain could not hide his satisfaction. His improvements were not limited to a single aspect—they were holistic. His physical body, his internal systems, and his energy channels had all been enhanced in perfect balance.

"I feel my body is at least twenty percent stronger," he thought with a thrill.

The smile only deepened. Once again, he had pushed his limits and emerged stronger than before. And with this, his odds in the inevitable clash with Azazel had improved considerably.