The Epic Tale of Chaos vs Order

Chapter 2243: Anark vs High Lords of The Root

The powerhouses from the six Empyrean Worlds clenched their fists as they watched the endless horde of spawns erupt from the Heart of the Root.

Even weakened by the suppression of the Universe Matrix, these creatures remained terrifyingly strong. Any one of the observing Third-Realm masters knew that if they faced such an abominable horde alone, they would be devoured long before they could mount a proper defense. The thought made their skin crawl.

Yet the True Primordial of the Void carved through the swarm as if it were made of mist. Every abomination that lunged toward him was butchered instantly, unable to slow him even for a heartbeat. His advance only grew faster, heavier, more decisive. With each creature that dissolved into the Matrix of the Universe, the watching powerhouses acknowledge that the being before them stood on a level utterly beyond their reach.

Compared to True Primordial of The Void, they were flickering embers.

He was a blazing star.

Even the Heart of the Root realized the futility of throwing spawns at him. The abominations abruptly pulled back, their retreat rippling through the swarm with eerie coordination. There was no reason to waste them when none could even tire the enemy; their only fate in such a battle was to be absorbed and converted into fuel for the Matrix.

But the Heart of the Root was far from defenseless.

Soon, three distinct figures rose from its colossal mass and stepped into the void. The first appeared as a towering abomination of knotted muscle and countless arms. The second was a skeletal being wreathed in dark orange flames. Anark recognized them instantly as High Lord Godfrey and High Lord Rykard.

The third figure, however, was entirely new.

He stood hunched yet massive, his frame encased in jagged obsidian plates that shifted with every movement. Beneath the armor, sinewy red flesh pulsed with a raw, animalistic vitality. His eyes burned like molten gold, gleaming with predatory hunger. A long, muscular tail coiled behind him like a living whip, silent yet impossibly tense.

Anark gave the newcomer a single long look before shifting his gaze to all three High Lords standing before him.

"Three High Lords of the Root against one enemy," he said with cold amusement. "I would call it unfair—but considering what happened the last time I fought only one of you, I understand your caution."

Rykard’s skeletal jaw clenched so tightly it nearly cracked. Rage twisted through his core, the memory of humiliation still burning like acid. His last clash with the True Primordial had been his darkest moment. His immortal constitution had saved his life, but the Primordial Force of the Void had clung to him so relentlessly that by the time he recovered, the entire battle had long ended.

Yet, no matter how much hatred burned in his heart, Rykard refused to let anger cloud his judgment. The fate of the Champions of the Root was a clear demonstration of what would happen to those who failed. He focused only on killing intent, sharp and disciplined.

The third High Lord finally spoke, his voice a guttural snarl saturated with feral bloodlust. "My name is High Lord Morgott. Remember it, as I rip out your guts."

His tone, posture, and presence were more bestial than humanoid, revealing much about his origin and nature.

Anark did not dignify the threat with a response. He simply glanced at Morgott once before allowing his energy to surge. The Primordial Force of the Void coiled around his body like a living storm. His eight arms blurred, shifting and condensing until there were only two—yet the force within them intensified exponentially. The air itself shook as he stabilized his power.

For a brief moment, silence ruled the void.

Then, without warning, all three High Lords struck.

Godfrey reached him first, hurling a massive fist forward with bone-shattering force. Even weakened by the Matrix of the Universe, his physical power was something that Cain, Cipher, and Uriel could barely contend with. But Anark met the attack head-on.

Their fists collided.

A shockwave erupted like a miniature supernova.

The void trembled as raw force tore across the battlefield. Godfrey staggered back, feeling his arm tremble violently. Despite putting all his strength behind his fist, he was unable to surpass the True Primordial.

Unfortunately for Anark, he had no time to exploit the opening.

Morgott was already upon him, his massive claws slicing toward Anark’s throat. The True Primordial twisted, raising his left arm to shield himself. The claws broke only skin—nothing deeper—but Anark instantly sensed his vitality being pulled away, flowing directly into Morgott.

"Every wound he inflicts becomes strength for him." The realization came instantly. Morgott’s Gift of the Root was brutal and direct.

But Anark did not allow his focus to waver. A torrent of dark orange flames surged toward him—Rykard’s attack, fast and merciless.

Anark seized the wrists of the two High Lords he had engaged, channeling perfect technique and overwhelming strength. With a twist of his body, he hurled both Godfrey and Morgott backward, their massive bodies spiraling through the void.

He then turned toward Rykard.

The True Primordial clapped his hands together, channeling so much power into the motion that the fabric of the void quivered. A violent explosion of condensed Void Force ignited outward, consuming the torrent of dark orange flames and scattering it into drifting embers.

Far in the distance, the assembled powerhouses could only watch the clash with shaking hearts. They were witnessing a battle that no ordinary realm of cultivation could describe.

Three High Lords of the Root, entities that could annihilate civilizations, whose power seemed to touch upon the Middle Alpha-Omega Overgod Rank, were being held at bay by a single warrior.

A single being.

The awe they felt was indescribable. The fear, too.

For although Anark was matching all three at once, it was clear he fought at the absolute edge of his limits. One misstep, one lapse in concentration, and everything could collapse instantly.

The void shuddered as their exchange intensified.

Space fractured.

Light bled.

A shocking battlefield ignited in seconds.