The Epic Tale of Chaos vs Order

Chapter 2210: The possibility of an interplanetary war

"Great. Now that we know each other a little better, I believe it would be wise to explore the great golden hall." Cain’s voice carried a calm clarity as he allowed a small, peaceful smile to form—one that soothed the hearts of everyone present despite the tension that still lingered among them. "I don’t know about the rest of you, but I’m rather interested in seeing what sort of domain the Universe Will has forged for us."

The group exchanged brief glances. No one voiced an objection, and after a moment of shared understanding, they all nodded and began moving toward the massive golden hall.

Only now, when their minds were not consumed by crisis, did the sheer magnitude of the structure truly reveal itself. The hall was gargantuan—tall enough to comfortably house entities the size of small worlds and spacious enough that tens of millions of Third Realm lifeforms could gather within it without feeling crowded.

Every inch of the monumental interior radiated the unmistakable pressure of cosmic force. Even an Alpha Omega Overgod would likely struggle to leave a scratch upon its surfaces.

Yet for all its grandeur, the hall was surprisingly simple. There were no embellishments, no superfluous ornaments, no attempt to impress with luxury. It was a fortress, a command center forged with singular efficiency. The only chambers beyond the central hall were clearly meant to organize massive battalions or temporarily house armies.

"Efficient," Cain murmured with a quiet nod. A needless waste of beauty or resources would have been foolish. They were preparing for war against a force undeniably superior to their own; nothing about this stronghold suggested the Universe Will had failed to understand that.

After several minutes of walking, the seven powerhouses reached the chamber at the core of the hall—a vast room dominated by a circular golden table with ten seats. The table itself was impressive, but it was not what seized their attention. Instead, their gazes were immediately drawn to the nine portals arranged evenly around the circumference of the chamber.

Each portal pulsed with a unique aura, a signature familiar to every powerhouse present. These were wormholes leading directly to their respective Empyrean Worlds.

The five members of the Sacred Races reacted instantly. Sharpness ignited in their eyes, their energies tightening around them like coiled blades. Though they said nothing, the atmosphere shifted at once, the air becoming tense and cold.

The reason was obvious. If any single individual here could freely enter the portal of another Empyrean World, the possibility of an interplanetary war would become terrifyingly real.

Cain sighed internally as he watched the fragile harmony nearly shatter once again. He understood their instinctive defensiveness—it was, in truth, reasonable—but it also demonstrated how dangerously little trust existed between them.

If something as simple as proximity to a portal could ignite this level of hostility, then unity would be nearly impossible.

Using the Flow, Cain examined the nature of the portals more carefully. Immediately, he noticed something that eased his concern. Despite appearances, these gateways were not simple or accessible to all. They carried intricately layered restrictions woven deep into their structure.

A thoughtful glimmer crossed his golden eyes. Then he turned slightly toward Anark.

The True Primordial of the Void understood without a word. He began walking toward the portal closest to him.

The moment the others saw which one he had selected, tension flared violently. The portal Anark approached was the one leading to the Bloodhaven Empyrean World.

Amara Bloodhaven reacted on instinct. Her eyes sharpened like blades, and her hand moved toward the hilt of her sword.

Before she finished drawing the weapon, Anark turned his gaze toward her. His eyes were cold, expressionless, yet behind that stillness was a silent challenge.

If you believe you can stop me, try.

The other powerhouses watched with growing interest. They had witnessed the terrifying sharpness of Amara’s sword, the way she could cut through reality and even sever the arm of a Champion of the Root. None of them were confident in facing that blade head-on.

But Anark was different. A True Primordial. A being who had defeated a High Lord of the Root. If a battle erupted here, very few expected Amara to emerge victorious—and Amara seemed to know it.

Her jaw tightened. After a tense moment, she exhaled, forced her fingers to unclench, and slowly sheathed her sword. She said nothing more.

Cain remained silent, though a quiet satisfaction bloomed inside him. He could not afford to intimidate or pressure the others directly—not if he intended to earn genuine influence. But Anark could act in ways he could not, and the True Primordial’s mere presence helped enforce boundaries that Cain needed.

Anark, for his part, never stopped walking. He stepped before the Bloodhaven portal and extended his hand toward it. To the astonishment of everyone present, his fingertips passed straight through the light like fog.

His brow narrowed. Without hesitation, he stepped forward—only to phase entirely through the portal again, as though it were nothing more than an illusion. His body could not interact with it.

Without comment, he immediately moved toward another portal. This time, his hand met solid resistance. The portal acknowledged him.

Anark stepped through.

A heartbeat later, he reappeared in the hall, the fabric of space rippling as he reconstituted, and he nodded once toward Cain.

"As expected. The portals can only be used by individuals belonging to their respective Empyrean Worlds. My people and I can only pass through the portal leading to our own realm."

Cain nodded in return, a small but genuine smile forming. "It seems the Universe Will has enough wisdom to prevent these gateways—meant for cooperating against the Root—from becoming tools for conquest or internal war."

A palpable sense of relief washed over the super powerhouses. Without the threat of invasions looming overhead, the razor-sharp tension that had threatened to divide them finally eased.

What none of them realized was the menaigufl light that crossed through the eyes of Cain and Anark. They could not use the portals themselves—that much was true. But they could study them. Memorize their auras, their frequencies, the imprint of their worlds.

And the next time Cain or Anark tore open a passage through the Empyrean Walls, they would not be blindly opening doorways into a random Empyrean Word.

Now they knew the leader of five of them, and the three that did not seem to have a champion.