The Epic Tale of Chaos vs Order

Chapter 2308: Cain vs Crowley

Cain’s palm struck the nearest clone, and power detonated outward with a rapid, vicious pulse. The shockwave didn’t stop at the surface—it tunneled through the construct’s artificial soul-core, riding the connection between every copy the Prophetess had spawned.

A single point of Chaos pushed into a thousand identical identities. It was a force that could channel every bond and connection, no matter the type. It could allow overwhelming power into the host, but could also be used to harm everyone connected to the target.

Then everything erupted.

"BOOM." "BOOM." "BOOM." "BOOM." "BOOM." "BOOM."

Explosions rippled through the chamber in a chain reaction—overlapping bursts of ruptured starlight and shredded soul force. Clones came apart mid-movement, their forms tearing into ribbons of light, pulp, and splintered psionic residue.

The air burned raw, as all were destroyed, and finally, the power of Cain’s attack reached their origin.

The Prophetess staggered. Blood leaked from her nose, her tear ducts, her ears—every opening in her face. The illumination in her eyes flickered violently, her pupils shivering at the edge of dissolution. Her soul was cracking; another second, and her consciousness might have shattered beyond repair.

Her mantle of light failed. The armor evaporated from her body, revealing what she truly was—not a seamless being, but a patchwork horror. Limbs that didn’t match. Skin tones that didn’t belong to the same species. Musculature and organs clearly harvested and replaced.

Even Cain paused at the sight as it was a first. The Prophetess had carved herself apart for power—replacing extremities and internal systems with foreign counterparts. A living graft puzzle.

But Cain did not hesitate.

He blurred forward, seizing her head in his grip without mercy.

At that exact moment, a voice thundered across the heavens.

"Don’t you dare!"

The force of it rattled the clouds. But Cain didn’t break momentum. The Scarlet Throne materialized behind him, and he hurled the Prophetess into the scarlet abyss without ceremony, dismissing her scream as irrelevant.

Then, not missing a beat, he turned.

A sword fell toward him like a collapsing singularity—a black hole of infinite density. Cain crossed Sky Devourer and met the impact head-on.

The collision smashed sound apart. His newly evolved body—strength enhanced by the Second Level of the World-Thread Tyrant Codex—still trembled at the bones. The pressure drove him down, slamming his figure into the ground hard enough to excavate a crater the size of a small moon, generating shock waves that destroyed everything around them.

Crowley did not pause; his rage was still burning, and it demanded blood.

The Neo-Angel dragged his colossal blade through the air, releasing a sweeping arc of night-black energy. It warped the horizon as it passed—space twisting inward, mass compounding until matter buckled under its approach.

The slash entered the crater, but to the surprise of the Neo-Angel, it vanished.

Right the next second, a cannon of unfiltered energy erupted from below—instantaneous, precise. It met Crowley in the sky and hurled him backward, punching him through the clouds.

Cain hovered from the fractured ground, blood touching his lips. He wiped it with the back of his hand, eyes narrowing at the Neo-Angel.

"Redirection saved me. Now that he’s seen it, he’ll adjust. I need to be careful. Urin trained specifically to counter my abilities. I don’t know if all Neo-Angels received the same conditioning."

He inhaled once—slow, surgical. Plasma wings flared at his back as he ascended. The air hissed away from him.

The Scarlet King didn’t want this fight.

Carrying Middle Alpha-Omega Overgod strength didn’t grant matching battlefield experience, especially not against a member of a Supreme Race.

"One mistake and he’ll break something vital. But if I retreat, I give up momentum—and an opening will get me killed." Cain knew that he would need to fight.

Silence seized the realm. The Neo-Demon and the Neo-Angel stared across a gulf of shattered stone and churning gravity. Even the atmosphere seemed to lock up, terrified of movement.

Crowley stepped forward.

His sword didn’t swing—it descended, like a star being lowered. Gravity multiplied a thousandfold in an instant. The air quaked. Space bent inward. Cain felt weight crush him from all directions, bone and tendon threatening to snap.

He didn’t freeze. He tightened his grip.

Space recoiled from Sky Devourer—respecting authority, ceding volume. The sword became a declaration, and Cain forced his body into motion, breaching Crowley’s gravitational vise just enough to stay mobile.

Crowley’s expression flickered. Cain’s cosmic domain was abnormal. Unclean. Disobedient. But it didn’t slow the Neo-Angel’s offensive.

The blade came down again—not a cutting strike, but a gravitational event wearing steel. Time thickened around the edge, viscosity replacing flow, stealing Cain’s agility.

"If I block, he’ll crush me in the next exchange."

No defense. No evasion. Only escalation.

Cain pushed the Imperium Blade technique to its threshold. Every reserve—body, soul, Dream—funneled into the sword. The tip of Sky Devourer barely kissed the descending edge of Crowley’s weapon.

All the weight, all the bent time, all the crushing mass was redirected—compressed into a cone of scarlet flame blasting outward. Cain rotated with the recoil, twisting his torso, exploiting the microscopic stagger it created.

Then he struck.

A torrent of scarlet annihilation roared from Sky Devourer—less a flame, more a devouring current. It swallowed Crowley’s silhouette whole.

Cain almost smiled.

Then a fist tore out of the fire.

It smashed into his skull—so much concentrated density that his cranium imploded. His body shot downward like a meteor, drilling into the ground until he hit bedrock.

Immediately, the power of the Scarlet Throne and Depravita Aura acted. Bone re-knit; tissue rewove; his brain restored itself in a heartbeat—

—but the shock left his mind fogged.

He rose—and Crowley’s aura detonated.

"Temporal Weight Lock."

The Neo-Angel’s soul force spread across the continent. Movement slowed—not just limbs, but thoughts. Cain felt his cognition drag, his mental speed collapsing.

Even in Asura Mode, he could barely shift.

"Azazel had a similar ability... but this is leagues above. Middle Alpha-Omega truly fights in a different medium. Not power—law. They deform reality."

He had no time to analyze. Crowley was already advancing—silent, lethal, eyes like collapsing suns.