The Epic Tale of Chaos vs Order

Chapter 2027: The Scarlet King vs everybody (I)

Cain’s body, soul, and very will surged as his path as a Primordial ignited with a second Star of Origin. Energy control sharpened, soul force roared, and willpower crystallized into unyielding might. His Imperial Apex Smash struck like judgment itself, shattering Legion’s crimson shield of corruption and blasting into the eldritch god’s chest. The massive abomination was hurled back into the distance, crashing through waves and storm as though the ocean itself bent away in terror.

Not even a heartbeat later, Cain’s form trembled and vanished, slipping through space-time like a shadow at the exact instant Jormungandr’s titanic strike lashed where he had stood.

Azazel’s serpentine eyes narrowed as he tracked the Scarlet King’s movements. A tremor rippled through his heart, one he struggled to suppress even with all the discipline his Depravita nature had forged. It was not Resurrección that shook him. It was Cain’s eyes—bottomless pits of emptiness, stripped of emotion, morality, and hesitation. They were not the eyes of a man in battle, nor of a beast.

They were the eyes of something greater.

"Those are the eyes... of a Master of Order," Azazel whispered, his voice low but his heart racing. He did not understand how Cain could wield that power, but recognition gnawed at him.

Those eyes belonged to the stage above, a level even most Depravitas never glimpsed. Those were the eyes of his Master!

The shock lasted only a second. His iron training reasserted itself, and Azazel roared.

"Adopt battle formation!"

His command thundered across the battlefield.

The ArchDeities of the Imperium of Time were afraid, and Azazel’s voice acted as a beacon, which allowed them to move forward, so they followed without hesitation. They tightened formation, weaving their domains together like a net. Their eyes stayed locked on Cain as Divine Sea and Legion rejoined the line, reforming the Imperium’s highest echelon.

The Scarlet King regarded them with calm detachment, his voidlike gaze passing over each face in turn.

"You should flee," he said simply. His voice was flat, but its weight sank into their bones. "Perhaps then you might save yourselves."

"Do not move!" Azazel snapped, his will searing into his soldiers’ minds. "If he sees weakness, if he senses hesitation, he will carve us apart one by one. We are not fighting a man or a machine—we are facing a mind that sees all as pieces on a universal chessboard. Do not break formation!"

Once more, Azazel’s instinct and control steadied the Imperium. The ArchDeities held their ground, even as dread clawed at their spirits. The True Depravita exhaled slowly, tension easing for only a breath, before his gaze sharpened on Cain once more. He studied the torrents of world energy pouring into the Scarlet King’s body, reinforcing his will, soul, and flesh.

"Through Resurrección and dual Tribulation Enhancements, your strength is monstrous," Azazel said, voice cold. "You walk now as an Overgod. But it is borrowed strength. It will not last. All we must do is endure. You cannot kill us—not before your time runs out."

Cain tilted his head, acknowledging the truth. "You are right. I cannot defeat you all—not with so little time."

The words should have eased the ArchDeities, but instead the air grew tauter, as though an unseen blade hovered at their throats. Instinct screamed that something worse was coming.

"What I can do," Cain continued, "is hurt you."

His pupils dilated until his gaze seemed to swallow all of them at once. His voice deepened, resonant and merciless.

"I mean really, fucking hurt you. And that will be enough."

The next instant, his aura exploded. Power surged skyward as his figure vanished.

The ArchDeities strained their souls to the limit, scouring the battlefield to find him—but failed.

Only Jormungandr’s intervention saved them. The serpent-dragon unfurled a colossal barrier, draping the ocean in shimmering scales of temporal force. Within that dome, Cain’s form flickered back into view—directly behind Juda!

The pseudo-Depravita’s eyes widened. He frantically folded his wings around himself, but they shattered under Cain’s fist like paper before a storm. Juda was flung through the air, rolling in agony as a concussive blast tore at his body, proof of Cain’s overwhelming might.

But the others had no time to grieve. They struck as one. A maelstrom of divine sorcery, temporal blades, gravitational floods, and psychic annihilation collapsed upon Cain, a storm vast enough to erase continents.

At its center, Cain’s expression did not change. His gaze remained calm, peaceful, and focused.

He stretched his fingers.

"Sundering Sovereign Slash."

The fabric of existence itself split. Invisible lines of annihilation crisscrossed reality, weaving a spiderweb of cuts that unraveled every spell and strike aimed at him. The attacks dissolved into nothing before they touched his skin.

He did not stop there. His hand swept downward, and his focus fell upon a towering warrior in the distance—a creature with two heads and six arms, muscles carved like stone, aura twisted by Depravita corruption. That was no other than Tibet.

Once a monk of serenity and peace, now a warped echo of that life.

Cain cared nothing for the irony. His palm slashed down.

Tibet froze, eyes wide. He could not see the blade, but he felt it. Dread crushed his soul. He raised all six arms in defense, forming a shield of flesh and will.

"ZNNNNNNNNNNNNNN!"

All six arms were severed in an instant.

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

Tibet’s scream tore across the battlefield, blood spraying into the sea. The sacrifice was not in vain as the arms diminished the power of the blade, saving the rest of his body.

Cain prepared to finish him when Legion materialized before him. One of the eldritch god’s grotesque arms swelled into a titanic limb and swung. Cain reacted immediately, closing his open palm, answering in kind.

The blows met.

"BOOOOOOOM!"

The shockwave ripped through the battlefield, space-time collapsing in on itself before rebounding in a cataclysm. Everything nearby was flung away, nothing being able to get near the Master of Order and the edlrich god.

The energy between them grew stronger and stronger until finally they were also blasted back.

Cain recovered instantly, stabilizing his form. Legion, however, tumbled backward, grotesque limbs thrashing. Yet within its abyssal maw, laughter echoed.

The next instant, Cain saw why. On his left arm, from the point of contact with Legion’s arm, new eyes and maws writhed, gaping in hideous mirth.

From the beginning, the intent of the eldrich god was not to win a battle of strength but to inflict a powerful curse, and he succeeded.

"You are now one..." the mouths hissed in unison, their gaze locked upon him.

But before the words finished, Cain acted.

A tearing sound split the air. Gasps rang out across the battlefield.

The Scarlet King had ripped his left arm off right before the curse reached his shoulder.

Blood cascaded like scarlet rain, yet Cain’s face remained calm. He lifted the severed limb, and under his will it reshaped, bone and flesh twisting into a colossal spear.

"Begone."

He hurled it, like a divine entity releasing his power into those he saw beneath him.

"BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!"

The spear moved faster than light, faster than time itself, and pierced Legion’s chest.

The eldritch god howled as a gaping wound tore through its abominable body, ichor pouring into the sea in waves that boiled the water.