The Epic Tale of Chaos vs Order

Chapter 2011: Azazel’s growing army

[Spatial fluctuation detected.]

Cain’s eyes narrowed the moment those words echoed in his mind. There were countless reasons why fluctuations in the fabric of space could occur. Sometimes they were natural, the result of cosmic energy surging unpredictably through ley lines. Other times they were the lingering scars of ancient battles—conflicts between powers so great the world itself still trembled centuries later. Normally, such phenomena were common enough to be dismissed.

But not here.

Not when this was the very place where Cain sought to uncover the mystery of Starfall Haven. That changed everything.

Cain could force his way in. He could unleash his psychic senses, tearing through dimensional layers until the truth lay bare before him. But doing so would be the equivalent of knocking on the door with a warhammer. Everyone inside would know he had arrived, and subtlety would be lost. That was not an option.

A solemn expression took hold of Cain’s face. He weighed every variable in silence before giving his command.

"System, increase the power of the [A.I. Chip Module] through the use of SDF."

[Task assigned.]

The cold, mechanical voice of the Absolute Life Form System echoed in his mind. At once, the power of the [A.I. Chip Module] surged, expanding exponentially, its invisible scans spreading like a net across dimensions. Cain waited, body still as stone, his mind razor-sharp. He was ready to move the instant something stirred.

Then the report came.

[Spatial labyrinth detected. Hidden dimensional layer located. Seven life forms confirmed. Four belong to Azazel, Juda, Gilgamesh, and Calypso. Three additional life forms were identified as unknown. Transferring gathered data.]

Cain’s eyes narrowed further. A virtual display unfolded within his perception, sketching the silhouettes of the unknowns. His gaze sharpened, immediately recognizing the signatures.

ArchDeities.

The first made his lip curl. Master Heronimo, ruler of the SoulPoison Heaven. A tyrant cloaked in shadows, known for cruelty that rivaled poison itself. His forces were infamous across the Everstrife Empyrean World for treachery and savagery.

They were not as depraved as the RainbowSky Heaven, which had reveled in slaughter and violation, but their practices were barbaric in their own way. Recruits were broken, humiliated, reshaped through agony until loyalty was carved into their very souls. Cain’s eyes glimmered coldly. That such a man had sided with Azazel was no surprise—it was almost inevitable.

The second figure, however, gave him pause. Tibet, leader of the NascentSky Heaven. A name associated not with cruelty or conquest, but with peace. Tibet’s faction was known for avoiding conflict, for cultivating quietly, detached from the endless wars of the Empyrean. To see him here, standing with Azazel, was... unsettling.

"The heart is trivial," Cain thought grimly. "It can be swayed by countless methods. Perhaps Tibet is simply too bound to the old world, too unwilling to change."

But he did not dwell on Tibet for long. His attention shifted to the third.

The last was a shadow Cain had only heard of in whispers and half-believed tales. A hermit ArchDeity, much like Ozark, though without his restraint. He was called Polo. Very little was known of him beyond his trail of devastation. Wherever Polo walked, entire cities vanished, their inhabitants reduced to nothing but hollow shells. He was a wanderer, an omen of ruin.

Cain’s expression hardened. Heronimo, Tibet, Polo. Wicked tyrants, misguided fools, and blood-soaked hermits, Azazel had gathered them to his side. If possible, Cian wanted nothing more than to send all of them to the Scarlet Throne.

For now, however, he could only sigh. Despite all his victories, despite striking the first great blow at RainbowSky Heaven, Azazel had still managed to gather more powerhouses to his banner, surpassing the one that followed him.

That realization was not a soft blow.

In that moment, Apex’s voice rose within his mind, calm yet edged with iron.

"Boy, you are a revolutionary. You bring new ideas, a new path, breaking the chains of the past. Azazel does not need to inspire; he simply shows them something to hate, and offers them rewards. It is always easier to hate than to fight for something greater."

Cain’s eyes glowed with red flames as he listened. Apex was right. His path had never been meant to be easy. But ease was not what he sought. The Scarlet Path was not built on convenience but on vision—the belief that he and his people could rise beyond the limits of the world. That belief, that conviction, was what made the path worth walking.

Having gathered what he needed, Cain withdrew. Silent as mist, he slipped from the hidden ocean depths and retraced his path, careful not to leave the faintest ripple of his presence.

As he flew away, his mind turned to one more troubling absence. The master of the EndlessStrength Heaven. Nowhere had Cain detected his aura.

"Did they kill him?" Cain wondered. "Did he run? Is he hiding? Or... is it something else entirely?"

The thought troubled him. An ArchDeity at the right place, at the right time, could turn a hopeless battlefield into a victory. Ozark’s intervention above RainbowSky Heaven had proven that without question. Losing track of another such figure was a risk Cain could not afford.

It did not take long for him to leave Juda’s territory altogether. Only then did he release his disguise, his form shifting back to its true self. A meaningful light shone in his eyes, sharp and resolute.

"Amon, Bael, and Leonidas will take time to finish expanding the Scarlet Intercontinental Formation and spreading the Scarlet Path. Divine Sea has her task as well. Everyone is advancing with purpose. I should not distract them."

He nodded inwardly. His kingdom was progressing steadily, so he had to decide what he would do now.

Secluding himself in cultivation would serve little purpose at this stage. What it needed was the removal of enemies who could not be swayed.

A cold glint sparked in Cain’s gaze.

"I should go hunting."

Killing indiscriminately was foolish. Striking down those who might still be swayed would only drive them into Azazel’s arms, strengthening the enemy instead of weakening him. But Heronimo and Polo? Wicked tyrants and hermits who thrived on carnage? They could not be reasoned with, and their continued existence was a danger too great to ignore.

It was better to take care of them swiftly, decisively—before Azazel could tighten his grip on them further.