The Epic Tale of Chaos vs Order

Chapter 2017: Juda’s transformation

Leonidas’ eyes blazed with willpower and battle intent, his body erupting in golden fire as he shattered every arrow that streaked toward him. Each obstacle broken only fed the inferno, flames surging brighter and hotter with every heartbeat, multiplying his momentum as he charged straight toward Juda.

Yet even as his war spirit soared, Leonidas’ expression remained solemn. He was not a reckless youth but a seasoned general, and he felt the truth pressing down on him like the weight of the sky.

"Juda’s strength has changed. He’s stronger now than when we fought above RainbowSky Heaven. Something at his very core has shifted."

The thought cut through Leonidas’ mind like a warning bell. But he refused to let doubt distract him. The Scarlet King was locked in combat with Azazel himself. The power of Eternity Breaker demanded Cain’s full attention; even the smallest lapse in concentration would be fatal. That was why Leonidas, the oldest and strongest after the King, bore the mantle of leadership here.

It was an honor he accepted without hesitation.

On paper, their advantage was clear. The Scarlet Kingdom fielded one more ArchDeity than the Imperium of Time. The number of Prima Deities and Divine Cultivators was balanced, but Cain’s forces fought with unparalleled coordination, their teamwork smooth and flawless. Already, they were seizing the advantage on the battlefield.

Only the spread of the dark roots troubled him. They spread fast—too fast—but Leonidas trusted his soldiers. The Scarlet Runic Pillars were being planted with tireless devotion. As long as the formation advanced faster than the corruption, they would hold this ground.

"If I defeat Juda, the entire battlefield will fall under our dominion."

Determination burned in Leonidas’ eyes. He surged forward, his body glowing with the might of the Sun Anvil Warplate, every step driving him faster, every strike of his aura hammering the world. Juda’s arrows shattered one by one beneath his advance, until at last Leonidas broke through, sword blazing like a midnight sun about to go supernova.

He was within striking distance. His blade arced down, radiant and merciless.

But instead of retreating, Juda smiled.

From his chest pulsed a wave of psychic power—raw, domineering, and eerily familiar, echoing the very essence that had forged Azazel’s existence. The pulse ignited him, wrapping him in a mantle of dark flame.

Juda transformed.

He grew into a towering figure of infernal majesty, clad in jagged black armor that looked forged from volcanic stone and shadow itself. Obsidian wings burst from his back, spreading wide to blot out the heavens, casting the continent below into a false dusk. Upon his brow burned a halo of living fire, not divine but wrathful, a brand of arrogance and dominion. His bow and arrows melted into nothingness, replaced by a colossal greatsword of molten fire. Around it surged not light, but searing psychic flame that gnawed at the spirit as much as it burned the flesh. His aura blazed with pride so fierce it seemed to incinerate not just resistance, but dignity and will itself.

The sudden transformation took Leonidas off guard.

The greatsword flashed. Juda drove the molten blade through Leonidas’ ribcage, piercing a lung. Hot blood filled the old warrior’s chest. Juda’s smile stretched wider as the steel bit into his enemy. Triumph swelled inside him, the intoxicating satisfaction of proving his superiority.

But the triumph was short-lived.

Leonidas did not falter. His hands locked around Juda’s arms with unyielding strength, and he swung his radiant blade as though the wound meant nothing.

The flaming sword slashed across Juda’s armor, carving through the molten plates and biting into his flesh with such ferocity that it launched him backward, hurling him through the air for several kilometers before he could arrest his momentum.

The entire exchange took less than a nanosecond. To outside eyes, it was nearly imperceptible. But when the two finally separated, the evidence of their clash was undeniable.

Leonidas staggered, blood spilling from the puncture wound in his chest that pierced through to his back. Juda, across the field, bore a massive burning gash across his torso, a wound that should have destroyed his organs.

Yet Juda laughed. Before the eyes of thousands, his flesh began knitting itself back together, threads of black fire reforging muscle and skin, while even his armor reassembled as though it were an extension of his body. Within seconds, Juda stood whole once more, his wound erased as if it had never been.

Leonidas’ eyes narrowed. "His recovery... it’s monstrous."

"Your master has helped you grow greatly," Leonidas said, his voice steady despite the blood at his lips.

Juda’s smirk widened as he glanced at the gaping wound in Leonidas’ chest and then back at his flawless body. Arrogance radiated from him like a burning sun.

"This is the gift granted to the chosen," Juda declared. "Those with the heart and soul to embrace the new order."

Leonidas chuckled, shaking his head even as golden blood dripped down his armor.

"New order, you call it? I see only slavery. To give up your mind in exchange for borrowed power is not the path of the strong—it is the path of cowards."

The words struck Juda harder than any blade. His eyes twitched, rage flaring in his expression. Though his strength had grown, his composure had not; the power had amplified his pride but eroded his discipline.

"Hmph," Juda spat. "You are just an old man—already with one foot in the grave."

Leonidas’ grin widened. He looked down at the burning cut in his chest, then back at Juda.

"You mean this little scratch?"

Purple flames erupted from his wound, and before the eyes of all present, the gaping injury sealed itself shut. In seconds, Leonidas stood unbroken.

Gasps rippled through friend and foe alike.

Then Leonidas’ body glowed. Across his flesh and armor spread glowing runes, expanding in intricate patterns until his form was covered in the full brilliance of the Samsara Seal. The lines pulsed with otherworldly power, weaving together into the mark of the First Order.

"My King also gave me new tools," Leonidas said, his voice carrying across the battlefield like a vow. His aura swelled, golden flames roaring higher. "But his gifts do not come with chains. Only with honor."