The Epic Tale of Chaos vs Order

Chapter 2211: Preparing for survival, not victory

Of course, Cain would not reveal any of this information. If the others discovered that he was the only one capable of crossing through the Empyrean Wall—and that he now possessed enough knowledge to pinpoint the coordinates of their worlds—he would instantly become public enemy number one. That outcome would be disastrous for his long-term plans.

The Root was already the greatest threat he had ever faced; Cain had no interest in adding five paranoid Empyrean Worlds to the list.

"Now that this is out of the way, we should sit," Cain said, keeping his tone calm and steady.

He moved to one of the golden chairs and sat down without hesitation. Anark followed immediately, taking the chair to Cain’s right. There were a total of ten seats—one for each Empyrean World—and the final chair seemed to be a manifestation of the Universe Will itself, acknowledging Anark’s impact in the previous battle.

"Even if we do not make any final decisions today, we must at least address the situation," Cain continued. "Ignoring it or procrastinating will only make everything harder."

A quiet solemnity spread across the faces of the powerhouses as they followed his example. There was no movement around the Heart of the Root, no new hordes of monstrosities rising from its depths, but only a fool would think the danger had passed.

All of them knew it. The silence that lingered between them was not peace—it was the weight of impending catastrophe.

Eventually, they all sat, and Cain paid close attention to the arrangement they chose. Three seats remained empty, allowing the group to keep distance between one another.

Their ingrained prejudice against each other was clear—especially in how Amara Bloodhaven chose her seat. She placed herself next to Uriel of the Legio Eldritch Race, a fellow member of the Dark Races, while sitting as far away as possible from Cipher, Arkam, and Zephirax.

Cain let the silence hang for a few moments before speaking again.

"I believe we can all agree that the Root is a force none of us can face alone. Even together, our situation is dangerous." His voice remained steady, but there was no attempt to soften the truth. "The King of the Root possesses power that none of us can directly match."

They were outmatched. Pretending otherwise would not make the threat disappear. It would only doom them faster. Facing an existential crisis required absolute clarity, not wishful thinking.

The powerhouses of the Six Sacred Races remained silent for several seconds, and then, slowly, all of them nodded. They knew Cain was right. The danger was real, and they were the weaker side.

A faint, controlled smile appeared on Cain’s face. Their mutual dislike, distrust, and long history of animosity remained intact, and none of them had the temperament of a team player. But at the very least, they were not delusional. They acknowledged the danger. That alone gave him something to work with.

Cain could manipulate the egotistical. He could redirect the hateful. He could push even the cruel into following his plans. But if any of them had chosen to deny reality—to pretend the threat was imaginary—he would have been out of options.

"Since we agree on the nature of our situation," Cain said, "I would like to hear your thoughts on what the next step should be."

As he spoke, he continued using the power of The Flow to analyze the intentions of those sitting around him. A few of them were beginning to grow uneasy with the commanding tone he naturally slipped into, which was one reason he opened the floor. They needed to feel heard—even if their opinions changed nothing.

Silence lingered for a moment, but eventually, someone spoke. It was Arkam, the towering robotic Anima Machinarium.

"We are in danger," His voice was calm and analytical, almost mechanical in its precision. "Our worlds and our kingdoms are at risk. The King of the Root made his intentions clear—he will be coming for us. However, I believe a direct approach would be suicidal."

Cain narrowed his eyes slightly but allowed the Anima to continue.

"The King of the Root is wounded. But he remains a threat that none of us can face—especially not within the Heart of the Root. According to logic, the stronger the entity, the more difficult it is for them to heal. Therefore, we should have time. Our goal should be to strengthen ourselves, strengthen our people, and prepare for a defensive war. We should eliminate anything the Root sends our way and use the aid of the Universe Matrix for support."

Several of the other powerhouses immediately nodded. It was the safest plan. It also promised great rewards, as killing enemies inside the Universe Matrix produced Primal Original Energy.

"I believe that approach is too narrow," another voice said.

It came from Uriel of the Legio Eldritch Race.

"A purely defensive stance will not be enough. We should also look for ways to damage the Heart of the Root—attack its surface whenever possible and weaken it over time. However..." Uriel paused, turning toward Arkam with a respectful nod. "When it comes to fighting Champions or anything above that level, we should rely on a defensive posture and use the Matrix to weaken them and benefit from their deaths."

The powerhouses began discussing various strategies, each offering versions of the same idea—a defensive war.

Cain listened to all of them. His expression remained neutral, his posture steady. He nodded occasionally, as if considering their ideas carefully. But internally, he could not help but sigh.

They did not say it openly, but Cain could see it clearly. "Radagon’s power has broken their spirits."

None of them was willing to walk a path that risked a direct confrontation with the King of the Root. Not now. Not soon.

The truth was that Cain could not really blame them, as the aura of Radagom nearly broke him as well. The King of the Root was a monster beyond measure.

However, their path was a mistake.

They were preparing for survival, not victory.

They were thinking like prey.

And Cain knew—if that mindset persisted—this war was already lost.