The Epic Tale of Chaos vs Order

Chapter 2428: The birth of the third body

A wide smile appeared on Lortar’s face as the tip of his halberd descended toward the Ocean of the Blood Sun. Victory was within reach—one final strike, and everything would end.

Then—

"CRACK!"

A shattering sound echoed across the blood ocean.

In that instant, it was as if time itself had frozen. The battlefield fell utterly silent, save for that terrible sound spreading across sky and earth, reverberating endlessly in every direction. It echoed again and again, stretching far beyond sight, as though reality itself were breaking.

The phenomenon lasted less than a second.

Yet for the two kings, it felt like an eternity.

When time began to move again, terror exploded within Lortar’s heart.

He was a heartbeat away from his goal—yet every instinct screamed at him to flee. To escape. To put as much distance as possible between himself and the Ocean of the Blood Sun.

Lortar had lived for millions of years. He had survived countless wars, betrayals, and catastrophes.

He knew better than anyone to listen to his instincts.

Without hesitation, he halted his dive, unleashing all his power to cancel the momentum dragging him downward. Space warped as his halberd burned with restrained force.

Just as he began to rise—

A massive hand emerged from the blood ocean.

It was humanoid, yet monstrous, each finger ending in a claw that seemed forged for slaughter. The hand reached toward Lortar’s head with terrifying precision.

"DEATH."

The word resonated directly within Lortar’s soul.

The Kalous King detonated his power in a desperate burst, releasing a torrent of flames that blasted his body skyward. The violent propulsion hurled him away from the ocean and directly beside the Aztorus King.

Moments ago, there had been nothing between them but murderous intent.

Now—

Standing next to Eonar felt safe.

Before Lortar could even register the irony of that thought, a jet of blood sprayed from his neck.

Shock flooded both kings’ eyes as they saw the wound—a thin, precise gash carved dangerously close to his throat.

Lortar reacted instantly, burning the flesh shut to stop the bleeding. Cold dread settled deep in his eyes.

He hadn’t seen the attack.

He hadn’t sensed it.

"You were fast," a calm voice echoed across the sky.

"A nanosecond more, and I would have ripped your throat out."

The two kings trembled.

Slowly, they turned their gazes upward.

There—hovering above the Ocean of the Blood Sun—stood him.

Calling the being a man felt insufficient.

He possessed a tall, humanoid frame sculpted with sharply defined musculature, each movement radiating quiet dominance. His hair was white, cut short along the top and sides. Strange runic markings traced along his arms and torso, each sigil pulsing faintly with bloodline power.

But it was his eyes that stole their breath.

His left and right eyes burned scarlet, flames flickering within them.

And upon his forehead—

A third eye.

A red Ancestor Eye that shone with such overwhelming brilliance that it dwarfed the eyes of the kings themselves. Comparing them felt like comparing moons to a sun.

Eonar and Lortar clenched their fists unconsciously as they stared.

They were Royal Blutlinie—among the highest beings of Paradise.

Yet the difference between their Ancestor Drops and his was so vast it felt as though the being before them existed in an entirely different league of existence.

And the phenomenon did not end there.

Barely a minute after Cain’s birth, the sky of the Dark Blood Realm of Paradise began to glow.

Radiant light cascaded across the heavens.

Then bells rang.

Not metaphorical bells.

Actual bells—vast, ethereal, and resonant—appeared throughout the sky, their toll echoing across realms as the Omens reacted to the birth of a majestic existence.

It was as though Paradise itself rejoiced.

As though the world acknowledged the arrival of a being destined to reshape its laws.

Cain stood calmly in the sky, his presence suffused with majesty, bathed in the glow of the phenomenon. The bells continued to ring, heralding not merely new life—but a new era.

Shock rippled through the hearts of the two kings.

Yet they did not allow it to paralyze them.

They took deep breaths, steadying their souls and grounding themselves in reality.

"So that is why you slaughtered our people," Eonar said slowly, his voice sharp but controlled. "To forge your body. You are a true demon."

The words were chosen carefully.

He was buying time.

The Soul Sundering Technique was fading. Soon, its pressure would lift entirely, allowing them to regain full control of their power. Every second also allowed their souls to stabilize, their vitality to recover.

Cain’s body was terrifying—undeniably majestic.

But he had only just been born.

Though their bloodlines screamed inferiority, that pressure came from their Ancestor Drops—not raw cultivation. Cain’s aura hovered at the peak of Early Alpha–Omega Overgod.

If they fought together, they still had a chance.

"I’ll take that as a compliment," Cain replied, his expression peaceful.

"Especially coming from someone who would have destroyed me the moment I stopped being useful."

Eonar’s eyes sharpened—but he did not deny it.

He nodded once.

"That is correct. Paradise is ruled by the law of the jungle. The strong devour the weak."

Lortar nodded as well.

"I despise you for killing my people," he said coldly. "But I respect your resolve—and your ruthlessness."

The two kings understood each other’s intentions without words.

They were stalling.

They were recovering.

They were preparing to strike together.

And fortune favored them—the golden glow beneath them finally faded as the Soul Sundering Technique fully dissipated.

Cain remained silent.

One second passed.

Then another.

An entire minute slipped by.

Only then did Cain speak again.

"Time’s up," he said calmly.

"You should have finished stabilizing your souls by now."

The eyes of both kings widened.

He had seen through them completely.

Worse—he had allowed it.

That realization struck harder than any blade.

Either the Blood King before them was an arrogant fool—

Or he was so utterly confident that even at full strength, they posed no real threat.