The Epic Tale of Chaos vs Order

Chapter 2030: The Scarlet King vs everybody (END)

Azazel’s eyes widened as the very essence of gravity coiled around his form, locking his body, soul, and ego in that point of space-time, a lock so immense that even thought could escape. The True Depravita of Sloth could feel it—inescapable annihilation.

The Great Conqueror Cannon had been unleashed, and he was the target, the one the Scarlet King wanted death more than anyone else. The Alpha-Omega force carved a corridor of perfect erasure through existence itself. Every instinct screamed at him that if it struck point-blank, his body, soul, and very concept of self would unravel into nothing.

Even if he were a True Depravita, he would die.

But Azazel was not going to fall; he would not fail his master.

"Time Swap!"

The words tore from his soul like a scream of defiance. In that instant, his essence burst brighter than ever before. Time itself twisted, warped unnaturally, the world freezing into a grotesque stillness. And then, in the final heartbeat, Azazel’s form flickered—vanishing.

In his place stood Tibet.

The monk’s eyes widened in shock and horror. A moment ago, he had been bleeding at the bottom of the ocean, half his body destroyed by the Scarlet King’s previous strike. Then, without a warning, the Depravita essence Azazel had implanted within him ignited. He was torn through time and space, forced unwillingly into the cannon’s path instead of the True Depravita of Sloth.

"No... no—!"

He did not have time to comprehend.

"AHHHHHHHHHH!"

The scream was short-lived. A moment later, the Great Conqueror Cannon consumed him. Body, soul, and ego—erased in a single blaze of ordered annihilation. Tibet, once a proud monk and now a twisted pseudo-Depravita, was gone.

The Scarlet King’s eyes narrowed. That attack was his sure-kill weapon, its force so absolute it locked even Depravita teleportation. Yet somehow Azazel had overcome it with a technique Cain had never witnessed before, something he did not even know Depravitas were capable of using.

It was a great failure, but Cain also noticed the price.

Azazel’s soul flickered erratically, unstable and fragile. That power—swapping positions through the current of time—had come at a devastating cost. One more decisive strike, and the Scarlet King knew he could end the True Depravita of Sloth for good.

But fortune turned cruel.

The last streams of world energy that had flooded Cain’s body thanks to the double Tribulation Enhancement were gone. The monstrous drain of his ultimate form no longer had fuel. If he remained on the battlefield, the form would collapse, and given the grievous wounds already tearing his flesh and soul, he risked falling into unconsciousness—easy prey for his enemies.

His gaze swept across the battlefield, engraving in his mind every Archdeity arrayed against him. Then, without a word, his form flickered into the distance. In a single heartbeat, he vanished.

None dared to chase him.

The Archdeities of the Imperium of Time, bloodied and mangled, stood trembling in the sky. Their bodies were on the verge of collapse, yet it was not their wounds that froze them. It was those eyes. The void in the Scarlet King’s gaze had shaken their souls, leaving behind a dread that lingered even after his departure.

When silence finally fell and their hearts began to steady, their attention turned. Azazel rose from the ocean, scarred but alive, Legion looming beside him. The Depravita of Sloth had survived the Scarlet King’s ultimate strike, but the way he had done so left unease simmering in the air.

The Archdeities’ gazes darkened, especially Juda’s.

They had once envied Tibet and Juda for the strange evolutions Azazel had forced upon them, granting strength beyond the ordinary. Now they saw the truth: Azazel’s "gift" made them nothing more than sacrificial pawns. Tibet’s death confirmed it. Relief flickered in the others’ eyes. Better to remain wounded and weak than to become Azazel’s tools.

Azazel noticed the shift. Distrust burned openly in their stares. He sighed. He had hoped to conceal his domain over the pseudo-Depravitas, but the battlefield had stripped away that secret. Worse, his own body was torn and shattered. Legion too had been grievously wounded.

If they wanted to give the final blow to the Scarlet King, they would need the help of the Archdeities.

"Let’s get to a Dark Tree," Azazel said flatly. "I will use its energy to heal us."

There was no point in speaking of camaraderie or loyalty. Such things did not exist in the Imperium of Time. Their unity was built only on necessity and mutual benefit. The Archdeities gave silent nods. They were already bound too deep to escape the Imperium, but each swore silently to themselves—they would watch Azazel closely from now on.

As they ascended from the ruined sea, Azazel turned his gaze toward Legion. The eldritch entity did not speak, but Azazel’s eyes glowed with quiet menace. The silent message was clear. Legion, inscrutable as always, only sighed, its tendrils rippling. Then it extended its clawed hand.

A sphere of warped fire emerged—within it, Amon and several Prima Deities of the Scarlet Kingdom lay imprisoned. With an almost mocking ease, Legion released the sphere, letting it drift toward Azazel.

The True Depravita of Sloth caught it in his hand. His eyes sharpened as he saw who was trapped within. The light that glimmered in them was menacing, calculating.

The group advanced in silence, exhaustion pressing down on them, suspicion gnawing beneath the surface.

Far away, the Scarlet King reached the Everlife Continent. His fusion with the Primarch of Conquest Leviathan collapsed at last. Just before unconsciousness claimed him, he sealed himself within the Scarlet Crown, locking away his battered body in safety.

The battle above the ocean had ended, but its echoes reverberated across the world. The clash had been epic—worthy of the First Era. It had shifted the balance of the war, driving both sides to their very limits.

Now, as both armies licked their wounds and prepared for what came next, a single truth lingered like the toll of a funeral bell.

The next collision would not be another battle.

It would be the end of the Everstrife Empyrean World War.