The Epic Tale of Chaos vs Order

Chapter 1958: Alpha Omega Overgod-Tier inheritance!?

The Ouroborus Cult was vast—larger than anything most beings could imagine. Even the entire landmass of the Everstrife Continent would not have been enough to accommodate it. In a hidden corner of this colossal organization, countless eyes began to stir awake. Each one glowed with malice and darkness, devoid of anything resembling warmth or compassion. Their perception stretched outward, flashing across walls and dimensions as they reached into the Fourth Gate.

"The ants have returned?"

"Hmph, useless garbage. They were locked in the Third Ring for millions of years."

"They kept us waiting for so long."

"Hmph, they are only Archdeities. Not even at the peak of the rank. What could anyone expect of them?"

Dozens of voices spoke at once, overlapping in a chaotic chorus that conveyed a myriad of emotions and intentions. All were negative—scorn, bitterness, hatred, ridicule. Yet despite the cacophony, the murmuring did not last long.

"SILENCE!"

The single command fell like a thunderclap. At once, every voice stilled. Fear appeared in the countless malevolent eyes as they turned upward. A massive, dark eye materialized above them all, its oppressive gaze forcing them into submission.

"They are not alone," the voice declared, carrying a gravitas that seemed to belong to something eternal, something that had existed since time immemorial.

Instantly, every lesser eye turned, their focus sharpening on the Fourth Gate. They saw the young man—white-haired, red-eyed—standing tall before the gate, grasping the sphere of energy, coaxing it into flame.

As the minutes stretched, more and more colors appeared within the fire. The gathered eyes grew restless, their glow pulsing with faint excitement. Finally, when the fortieth color emerged, a ripple of thrill and unrestrained anticipation coursed through them.

"Hahaha, look at that little ant!"

"Finally, a garbage with enough talent."

"Hmph, still barely enough."

Again, the commanding voice returned. Though no louder than before, its weight cut through the noise and forced silence upon them once more.

"Maybe," it rumbled, "we finally have a chance to leave this place."

The massive dark eye sharpened its intent, focusing solely on the young man. But then, without warning, shock flared within its gaze. The boy—the so-called ant—had looked up. Wonder and suspicion marked his expression.

"Did the ant detect me?" the ancient voice whispered to itself, both surprised and intrigued. "Interesting. Very... interesting."

Immediately, the enormous eye withdrew its presence, retreating back into the abyss before its detection could be confirmed. Its power spread outward once more in dominance.

"Retract your gazes. They still have a long road before reaching us. They must not detect us before the time is right."

Reluctantly, the rest of the countless eyes closed, one by one, until the darkness was still again.

...

"Success! Grade: Superior. Credits granted—25,000. Credits to companions—2,500 each."

Amon and Bael both broke into wide smiles as the words rang out. They watched with unrestrained joy as the great gate opened, revealing at last the long-sought entrance to the Fourth Ring.

But their happiness lasted only a moment. Almost immediately, their eyes shifted toward Cain.

The young man did not share their elation. His sharp, cold gaze swept across their surroundings, lingering with suspicion as if he were hunting for something unseen. The joy in the brothers’ eyes faded, replaced by vigilance.

"Is there a problem, Scarlet King?" Amon asked cautiously.

Cain frowned. There was something odd—something subtle, almost intangible—that gnawed at his instincts. He could not name it, nor could he be certain whether it was dangerous or simply unusual. But he trusted his instincts. Even if they gave him no clear explanation, he had learned never to ignore them.

Still, it was not enough to halt their progress. He drew a deep breath, his senses sharpening as the full power of the [A.I. Chip Module] surged to life, ready to analyze and react to any threat.

"We must be careful from this point forward," Cain said at last.

Amon and Bael both narrowed their eyes. The words carried weight. The Godslayer Human’s form shifted, merging with his Archdeity natural inheritance, while the Inferno Daemon summoned his physical might and prepared his Star Power, ready to explode into battle at a single signal.

The destiny of the Scarlet King was like the endless void—immeasurable, unfathomable. If his instincts warned of danger, they would treat that warning as absolute certainty.

Cain gave them a small nod of approval as he saw their readiness. Then, together, the three moved forward.

What unfolded before them was breathtaking. A massive amphitheater stretched outward, impossibly vast, its architecture grand beyond comprehension. Gargantuan statues of bone-white marble loomed high, exuding an oppressive majesty. Lanterns, each like a star bound in place, hung from unseen chains above.

The floor beneath their feet pulsed with slow, steady light, sigils embedded deep into the stone, their rhythm like the beating heart of the entire place. Buildings ringed the amphitheater, each massive enough to house armies, yet their presence was muted in comparison to the statues.

Cain, Amon, and Bael could not help but focus on the figures carved in marble. Their auras were peculiar, as if drawing the gaze inward, compelling reverence.

Carefully, they approached. Step by step, they moved closer until they stood before one of the great statues. This one depicted a man of the Deus Behemoth Race who resembled a crow. His form radiated strength and majesty, yet beneath the overwhelming force, they sensed another essence—the quiet aura of a scholar.

The moment they crossed within ten meters, the statue stirred. Shadows rippled across its surface, and its eyes glowed to life.

Cain and the brothers immediately shifted into battle stance, power surging and ready to strike. But no attack came.

Instead, the statue’s shadowy figure opened its mouth and spoke.

"I am Elder Oran," it declared, its voice deep and resonant. "Headmaster of the Runic Association of the Ouroborus Cult. I can impart the inheritance of Runes, carrying the essence of my knowledge as an Alpha Omega Tier Runemaster."

The words echoed across the amphitheater, shaking the very air.

Cain, Amon, and Bael froze. Their eyes widened in unison, unable to mask their shock.

An Alpha Omega Overgod-Tier inheritance!?