The Epic Tale of Chaos vs Order

Chapter 2099: Amazo

Of course, not everyone was like the Neo-Demon and faring well within the Crystal Maze.

For many, the road ahead was nothing but despair — a labyrinth of shifting illusions and dead ends. Their foresight failed them, and the layered distortions of space and lack of short-term memory made even the most seasoned minds lose their bearings, looping endlessly through mirrored halls.

However, even those without understanding of The Flow eventually began to sense faint traces of invisible force currents weaving through the labyrinth. They followed them instinctively, like moths chasing the shimmer of light through fog. Yet that rudimentary perception offered little help once they entered the elemental chambers. There, instinct alone meant nothing. The challenges that awaited required balance, precision, and understanding — not brute strength.

Many had no choice but to rely on the latter. They crushed through each trial by sheer might, forcing open gates with power and pride. But such methods came with consequences, for each forced victory made the path ahead heavier and more perilous, as they failed to comprehend the teaching of those chambers. Still, most of those who ventured into the Sacred Dimension had not come to learn — they had come to kill.

But not all of them.

Among the few who treated the journey as a forge for their own growth was Meylin, the True Depravita of Original Sin.

Her movements were graceful, her eyes calm, her smile subtle but sincere as she advanced through the endless maze. The challenges were grueling, yet she embraced them with joy, savoring each trial as an opportunity to deepen her understanding of The Flow. It was a knowledge she sought to cultivate by her own hand — not borrowed from Cain, not inherited through others, but earned through her own soul.

Meylin was no damsel waiting to be saved. She had chosen to stand beside Cain, yes — but not as a shadow. She was the master of her own destiny, determined to face the vastness of creation and its terrors with her own strength.

As she moved through the labyrinth, the golden light in her eyes grew purer, steadier. She took her time within every chamber, studying each wave, each vibration of power. What others saw as torment, she saw as a lesson.

Eventually, her steps carried her into a massive open hall carved from transparent crystal, its center vast and echoing like a temple. Twelve open paths stretched outward from it like the spokes of a celestial wheel.

Meylin halted.

She could feel it — the invisible streams of force that guided the path forward were tangled here, braided and hidden within the walls. The true way forward was buried in a web of false trails.

She closed her eyes and let her awareness sink into stillness. The hum of the world rose around her — faint, melodic, shifting. Using both her innate affinity and her growing grasp of The Flow, she attuned herself to the subtle harmonics beneath reality’s pulse.

Her breathing slowed. Her heart synchronized with the rhythm.

And then, like a veil lifting, one path shimmered faintly before her.

”There,” she whispered. A smile touched her lips. ”Found you.”

But the thrill of discovery faded the next moment, replaced by a chill that rippled down her spine.

Someone else was entering the open crystal chamber.

From the shadows of another passage stepped a towering figure clad in gold and black armor that seemed to devour all light. Vast wings unfurled behind him — not mere feathers, but radiant constructs of light, lined with hundreds of unblinking eyes that observed the world from every angle. Each gaze carried weight, as though even the laws of motion bent before it.

Reality itself seemed to twist faintly beneath his presence, as if the weight of his body was so immense that light bent. A halo blazed above his head, its light sharp as a blade. Every motion he made was deliberate, controlled, as if each step carried the balance between destruction and restraint.

Meylin’s breath caught. Recognition struck instantly.

”Amazo.”

The name echoed in her mind like a curse.

He was one of the Peak Archdeities of the Freedom Path — a warrior whose fists were said to pierce the defenses of an Alpha-Omega Overgod. His strikes could level entire continents and crush moons to dust.

And now, he stood between her and the road ahead.

Amazo’s piercing gaze swept across the chamber, locking onto her. His expression did not change, but his aura sharpened. Killing intent poured from him like sunlight turned to steel.

He didn’t speak.

He simply moved.

A blur of gold and white streaked through the chamber, the air imploding in his wake. Every heartbeat condensed into violence as his fist drew back, energy compounding, momentum rising until even the walls trembled.

Meylin’s instincts screamed. She summoned her Sinful Lotus — its petals folding inward in a defensive bloom of violet light — just as his punch struck.

”BOOOOOOOOOOOOM!”

The shockwave tore through the chamber, a concussive roar that shook the air. Meylin was hurled across the room, crashing into a crystalline wall. Blood traced the corner of her lips as the Lotus flickered, cracks webbing across its surface.

Even though the barrier had held, the force of the blow had reverberated through her, making her organs tremble and her vision blur.

But there was no time to recover.

Amazo was already upon her again. He descended like a meteor, fists striking in rapid succession, each blow precise enough to shatter mountains. Every impact split the air into thunderclaps, each shockwave pushing her deeper into the wall. The Sinful Lotus strained under the onslaught, cracks deepening with every second.

Amazo was not only powerful — he was a master combatant, relentless and impossibly fast. He gave her no space to counterattack, no breath to think. Every moment was pressure, every motion a test of will.

Meylin clenched her teeth, forcing her mind to remain sharp, as she sought a way out of this torment. And she needed to think fast, as the lotus did not seem to be able to endure much longer.

When the next blow descended, she dissolved into smoke.

Her form flickered, vanishing an instant before the impact, and reappeared at the ceiling, high above. Her Depravita Ability allowed her to displace herself through layers of spatial mist.

But Amazo reacted almost instantly. His wings snapped once, propelling him upward with blinding speed. The momentum from all his previous attacks condensed into his right fist, compressing destructive energy until it seemed the world itself bent around it.

The pressure hit her before the strike did — a crushing weight that promised annihilation.

Meylin could feel it — the perfect convergence of force, momentum, and pressure. His punch was like a miniature star, condensed fury that could pierce through her skull and reduce her to dust.

And yet, even before death’s shadow, the True Depravita did not falter.

Meylin’s perception expanded. The Flow surged through her mind, turning every second into an eternity. She could see everything — not just the physical shape of his fist, but the intricate rhythm of his movement: the tension in his tendons, the quiver of muscle, the vibration of atoms dancing in his skin.