The Epic Tale of Chaos vs Order

Chapter 1974: Consuming Legion’s remnants

Cain’s eyes sharpened. There was no time to waste.

With a steady hand, he seized control of one of the golden spheres that contained the twisted, living remnants of Legion. A pulsating amalgamation of flesh, eyes, and psychic residue seethed within it, writhing like a trapped storm of hatred. Without hesitation, he hurled the orb toward the Primarch of Conquest Leviathan.

Of course, Cain would never dare fuse the remnants directly into his Alter-Ego. Even in their fractured, mindless state, the raw power of that psychic abomination would overwhelm Leviathan entirely. Instead, he chose a different destiny for it—a place where even Legion’s remains would meet their end.

The mass within the sphere screeched with countless voices, a chorus of hatred and rage. Millions of eyes opened and snapped shut. Maw after maw gnashed in blind fury. Yet when they reached the Primarch’s heart, that fury faltered. The chaotic storm of flesh and thought fell silent, terror flooding the hive-mind.

Before them, a gate of scarlet light opened.

The colossal portal revealed a realm bathed in an endless sea of red.

The Scarlet Throne.

Even in their blind, fragmented state, the remnants understood. This was no simple dimension, no mere prison. It was a horror beyond measure, an eternal cycle of agony. And they were being dragged into it.

They thrashed. They clawed at the boundaries of the orb, desperate to break free. But they could not break free from Apex’s power, and once they crossed the threshold of the gate, it was finished.

The golden orb dissolved the instant it passed through, and the formless mass of Legion spilled out into the Scarlet Realm. It tried to escape—tried to flee before the gate sealed shut—but the portal slammed closed, severing any hope of retreat.

Cut off from all exits, the abomination did what it knew best: it raged.

It struck out wildly in every direction. Tendrils lashed. Maws devoured. Psychic shockwaves rolled outward, pulverizing mountains, shattering valleys, obliterating forests, spires, and caverns. Not a single structure remained standing.

Yet destruction meant nothing here.

Everything within the Scarlet Throne was built from souls, consciousness, and psychic frameworks—each bound in eternal servitude to the realm. Even if every mountain and valley was reduced to dust, it would all reform, reconstructed by the very essence of the suffering trapped inside.

This was the Scarlet Throne’s nature: a closed cycle of power. Nothing was ever lost. Not even death could free its captives. Souls worked endlessly, feeding energy back into the throne, their torment perpetual.

Thus, all the destruction Legion wrought only strengthened the realm. The more it raged, the more it bled energy into the cycle.

Invisible blades descended from the crimson sky, each one carrying the Concept of Sundering. They sliced the abomination apart, tearing flesh and mind into ribbons. Every severed piece was immediately devoured and absorbed by the Scarlet Throne.

The throne consumed the psychic essence, weaving it into its eternal fabric, while the raw life-force surged into Cain himself.

He could feel Legion’s remnants breaking down piece by piece. His lips curled into a smile.

For five hours, the Scarlet Throne feasted.

By the end, Cain could stand again. Vitality rushed through him like fire in his veins. The throne had consumed less than a tenth of Legion’s remains, yet already the harvest had restored much of his strength. Though he was still badly wounded, movement came easily now. His mission could continue.

"I will return soon," Cain said simply, glancing toward his brothers.

Without further explanation, his figure faded.

Baal and Amon’s eyes widened. Cain had not teleported. There was no ripple of spatial fluctuation, no trace of energy. He had simply vanished.

Of course, if they unleashed the full might of their cultivation and souls, they might have traced the hidden anchor woven between dimensional layers—the path to the Samsara Arsenal Module. But exhaustion pressed heavily on them. Instead, they exchanged a glance and shrugged their shoulders.

Another peculiarity of the Scarlet King, they decided. Nothing more.

Cain reappeared in the skies above the Third Level.

Below him, thousands of cultivators moved across the land. Many gathered around Ars Goetia, others sat in silent focus, training within the rising Soul Enlightenment Mist that blanketed the grounds. Their auras pulsed in rhythm, steady and strong.

Cain’s eyes narrowed. The Sky Sovereign and the others had already returned from their journeys into the domains of the World Breaker and the Lord of the Last Steps. It seemed they had entered through the Samsara Anchor that Cain had left behind in his cultivation grounds within the Gu Sect.

"It has been several years since they departed," Cain murmured. "It makes sense they’ve already returned."

A strange expression flickered across his face. Time. It slipped through his fingers like water. Ever since becoming a True Primordial, achieving immortality, the flow of time had grown meaningless. Days, months, years—they all blurred together. Only the constant threats against his existence gave time any weight at all.

Shaking the thought away, Cain’s eyes hardened. He could not afford distraction.

He soared directly to the Samsara Sacrificial Grounds.

Cain’s gaze was cold as he summoned the second golden orb. This one pulsed violently, the other half of Legion’s living remnants thrashing inside with unrestrained madness.

Without mercy, he hurled it into the Samsara Flame.

The reaction was immediate.

Where the Scarlet Throne would need days to digest its portion, the Samsara Flame consumed this half in mere seconds. The shrieks of Legion’s remnants were swallowed by fire, erased utterly from existence.

Waves of Soul Enlightenment Mist erupted outward, flooding across the Third Level. Cultivators below gasped as the mist wrapped around them, saturating their cultivation and perception. Countless breakthroughs would blossom from this sacrifice.

But Cain’s eyes were fixed on something else.

Above him, Fortune gathered.

An ocean of purple energy swirled into existence, coalescing into a tide of destiny so vast it covered more than half of the Sacrificial Grounds. The sheer immensity of it was staggering, the air trembling under its weight.