The Epic Tale of Chaos vs Order

Chapter 2222: Exchange with the Light Army

The old man studied Cain in silence, his eyes narrowing with the weight of long years spent confronting horrors. The stranger before him looked human at first glance, but there was something unmistakably different in the radiance of his bloodline and the pressure that clung to him like an unseen mantle.

”Human, yet not human,” Duncan thought. Even if he could not recognize a Primordial on sight, he understood instinctively that Cain Laurifer was not simply another member of the Godslayer Humankind.

Still, Duncan did not allow awe or uncertainty to sway his composure.

He straightened his back, lifted his chin, and answered with a steady voice that did not tremble. ”I am Duncan Inao, Leader of the Light Army. Do you come to us as an enemy... or as a friend?”

Cain watched him for a moment. Duncan fully understood the chasm between their strengths, yet chose to stand tall regardless, ready to face death if that was the price.

Cain inclined his head slightly. There was no bravado in Duncan’s stance, no bluff or political performance. His courage was genuine, and for that alone, Cain allowed the harsher layers of his temperament to soften, if only by a fraction.

”I am Cain Laurifer,” he replied, ”the Scarlet King. I do not come as your enemy, but neither do I claim the warmth of friendship. I lack the luxury of caring for others right now. My purpose is simple: I seek knowledge of those who stand at the peak of this world—the highest lords of your caste system.”

Duncan’s eyes narrowed immediately. Given the structure of the Abyssalcrown Empyrean World, someone with Cain’s appearance would hardly be welcomed by the ruling clans. More likely, they would attempt to enslave him the moment they learned of him. In this world, looking human was almost enough for a death sentence.

”If that is the case,” Duncan said after a breath, ”then would you spare a moment and step into our war chamber? The high order of the Light Army is currently gathered. If we are to speak, let it be in an orderly fashion.”

He had many questions—questions that could shape their future, or at least their next desperate decisions. Knowledge was the only advantage they still possessed. They could not defeat Cain; they doubted they could even delay him. And since he had entered their hidden stronghold so casually, Duncan knew the man could leave it just as easily.

Cain considered the request. He was racing against time, and the threat of the Root loomed over every breath he took. Yet he also knew that forcing his way into the minds of stronger individuals carried risks he preferred to avoid. If they willingly shared their information, it would spare him unnecessary complications.

In the end, he nodded. ”Very well. Lead the way.”

Duncan gestured, and the guards tensed, ready to intervene if necessary. But he silenced them with a sharp, commanding glance. They had already struck Cain with everything they had, and not even a scratch had been left behind. Fighting further was meaningless.

The walk was brief. Soon Cain stepped into a modest chamber carved deep beneath the ocean floor, where eight battle-scarred figures waited. Each bore wounds that would never quite heal, physical reminders of a lifetime resisting tyranny. Their eyes shone with a hard clarity—resolve hammered into steel by pain and loss.

They looked at Cain with a mix of curiosity and cautious hope. They had overheard his intentions. If he truly meant to strike at the upper echelons of the Abyssal Clan, they would not mourn the outcome. But they also feared false hope.

Even if Cain possessed the power to fight the nightmares that haunted their world, such a battle could burn continents and erase civilizations. How many of their people would perish in the crossfire? What would be left of their homeland?

Cain sat without waiting to be offered a seat. ”You have questions,” he said, voice calm but edged with finality. ”Ask them. But understand this—when I am done answering, I will obtain what I came for. One way or another.”

The straightforward bluntness sent a cold ripple through the room. This was not the diplomatic tactician who had carefully brought people to his side during the war with the Imperium of Time.

This was a Primordial preparing for war, unsoftened by courtesy, and every elder in the chamber understood that clearly. He was being honest because he had no need to deceive them.

They exchanged glances. A brief moment of silent deliberation passed between them before the first elder spoke.

”What is your goal?”

”To kill the strongest of this world,” Cain answered, without hesitation. ”To take their treasures, and to use their bodies and souls for my cultivation. I will target the wicked first. But anyone who stands in my way will meet the same fate.”

No hesitation. No softening. The truth was simply the truth.

Another elder stepped forward. ”From where do you come?”

”From beyond this Empyrean World.”

He spoke the sentence carefully. The portal to the Golden Hall still existed, and though he did not fear these people, he saw no reason to risk exposing knowledge of the Everstrife Empyrean World.

”And after you finish?” Duncan asked. It was the question everyone felt gnawing at their hearts.

”I will leave,” Cain replied. ”I have matters of far greater importance awaiting me. I will not linger longer than necessary.”

More questions followed—details, uncertainties, worries about collateral damage, the scale of the conflict he intended to provoke. Cain answered each succinctly, but without hostility. They needed clarity, and he was willing to give it, so long as it did not slow him down.

After several minutes, his aura rose slightly, commanding silence.

”That should be enough.”

He lifted a hand, and nine scarlet droplets of psychic energy appeared in the air, hovering before each elder like faintly glowing embers. ”These will touch your souls and extract the information I need. Do not resist, and there will be no harm.”