The Epic Tale of Chaos vs Order

Chapter 1943: Back to the Crimsonsky Continent

Cain gazed at the vanishing trace of Azazel until the last flicker of psychic light dissolved into the horizon. His fists clenched so tightly that his knuckles whitened. Coldness and rage burned together in his chest—an urge to chase the Depravita down, to finish the battle, to crush that aloof calm forever.

But Azazel had been right.

Their fight, though short, had been beyond explosive. Each clash had rippled across the Everstrife Empyrean World, shaking the oceans, fracturing the skies, and drawing countless eyes. Cain was powerful—extremely powerful by the standards of this world—but power drew predators.

In the Everstrife Empyrean World, strength was not always a shield; sometimes it was a beacon.

A battle to the death here and now might end in Cain’s victory... but it would be a pyrrhic one. The moment he fell wounded, the moment his energy was depleted, the other Archdeities would descend upon him. He had not yet forged a faction powerful enough to guard him while he was incapacitated, and without that... victory would only be the first step toward his own destruction.

He inhaled deeply, forcing the fire in his chest to cool. The strain of Ninth Gear had pushed him far beyond his limits; even with his overwhelming endurance, the cost was brutal. He willed the Samsara Seal to deactivate.

Immediately, a wave of weakness slammed into him, threatening to pull him from the sky. His knees felt heavy, his vision momentarily dim.

”I was forced to burn around fifteen percent of my life, soul, and ego.”

It didn’t sound like much—but these were not mere resources. They were the core pillars of his existence. Even losing less than a quarter would cripple most beings. Thanks to the Samsara Seal, the loss had been stabilized, and it hadn’t hindered him mid-battle nor would it generate a problem ahead... but the cost was still real, still dangerous.

Cain’s gaze shifted down to the wounds on his face and chest. The sword strikes from Azazel had done more than tear flesh and muscle—they had carved through bone. He traced a finger along the edge of the gash, feeling the jagged line where his ribcage had been split.

”Had that blade landed on my skull...” He didn’t need to finish the thought. Even with his vitality, that kind of wound would have dropped him instantly—and in that frozen moment of unconsciousness, his life would have ended.

He frowned, replaying the fight in his mind. There had been too many close calls. Too many moments where one wrong twitch, one delayed reaction, would have cost him everything.

Finally, he sighed.

”Ahhh... it seems I was not fast enough.”

Ideally, he would have solidified the Scarlet Alliance before the forces of the alien Empyrean World made their move. But that possibility was gone now. Azazel was already in motion, and Cain had no way of knowing what the Depravita was planning—or when they would meet again.

Worse still, the Lord of Divine Calamity had a way of tracking Cain’s location through some obscure method. Cain could hide from most, but this being always seemed to know exactly where he was. On the other hand, he had no idea where the Depravita was hiding.

What had begun as a day of triumph—full of thrill and smiles—now pressed down with the weight of a thousand mountains. That weight settled on his shoulders, heavy enough to crush lesser beings.

Yet, even under that pressure, Cain’s eyes ignited again, flames burning hotter than before.

Things would get harder—much harder. But no matter what the universe threw at him, he would endure. He would adapt. He would conquer.

The Star of Origin floating above his forehead began to glow. His body shuddered for a moment before liquefying entirely, transforming into a cascade of water that plunged into the flaming ocean below.

His existence spread through the waves, merging with the massive body of water—larger than a continent—drawing vitality from the world and energy from the void itself. The ocean’s endless currents began to mend his wounds from within, knitting torn muscle, fusing broken bone. At the same time, his presence was swallowed completely, hidden from the searching senses of curious Archdeities.

By the time their consciousnesses or other methods of scanning reached the area, all they saw was the wreckage of the battle—a sky fractured into ribbons, an ocean boiling with residual energy. No trace of the combatants remained.

And yet... many would guess the truth.

Cain’s reputation preceded him. No one else in the Empyrean World could unleash this level of destruction without unleashing their Alter-Ego. That left only one conclusion: someone had fought the Scarlet King to a standstill... and vanished before they could be seen.

The minds of Archdeities across the world turned to the same question: Who could possibly clash with Cain and survive? Whoever it was, they had hidden their identity perfectly.

But one certainty emerged across the Empyrean World: there was now another superpower walking its lands. The Scarlet King was no longer unmatched.

...

A few days later...

On the shores of the Crimsonsky Continent, a figure emerged from the waters under the bloody sky. This was the place Cain had hidden after defeating Divine Calamity’s Omega Avatar, and where he had fought his first true Archdeity, Amon.

Cain remembered the last encounter clearly. He had clashed with Amon, only to vanish when the ArchDeity triggered his Liberacion Total. Cain had then hunted down and killed a group of Prima Deities to refine his Worldcell Ascension Method. Before leaving, Amon had shouted four words Cain could still hear in his mind.

”You owe me one.”

Amon—capable of conjuring vast creations of darkness and fire—had not been friendly. But the fact that he’d left open the possibility of negotiation, even after their battle, was a sign. Perhaps there was a chance that an alliance could be forged.

Rising into the air and concealing his presence within the currents of the wind, Cain began his journey across the continent.

As expected, carnage still gripped the Crimsonsky Continent. Cultivators slaughtered one another by the tens of thousands every day. Wars burned across the land like wildfires, consuming cities, devouring resources. This continent thrived on bloodshed, and the bloodshed never ended.