The Epic Tale of Chaos vs Order Chapter 2328: Masked Race

Cain stood motionless before the statue of the Samsara Lord, his eyes fixed upon the stone for several minutes as he attempted to uncover its true essence. Repeatedly, he pushed his perception outward, hunting for any trace of latent power, a lingering will, or a hidden mechanism within the effigy. However, despite his meticulous scrutiny, he found only the same familiar aura he had detected from the start.

A look of confusion crossed his face.

It was already clear to Cain that the Samsara Lord’s reach extended into the Crimson World; the Neo-Demon Core pulsing in his own chest was undeniable evidence. Yet, based on the knowledge he had gathered, the Samsara Lord seemed to maintain a remarkably hands-off approach.

While he exerted influence through the Samsara Arsenal and the Neo-Demon Core, he never appeared to intervene directly in the shifting tides of the universe.

Cain recalled that in the history of the Great War billions of years prior, there was no record of the Samsara Lord ever making a personal move.

"He helps those he considers worthy, but it is up to those warriors to determine the fate of their homes—not him."

This was the definitive conclusion Cain reached regarding the enigmatic figure's behavior. It struck him as a strange form of fairness. Struggle, after all, was the very foundation of growth; without such trials, the evolution of one’s strength and will would lack any real purpose.

Deciding not to squander more time pondering a being from a plane of existence far beyond his current measurement, Cain turned his back on the monument. He began to navigate the ancient city once more, retracing his path with care to ensure no vital clues had been overlooked.

His search yielded nothing.

As he walked, contemplating the fundamental nature of Origin Island, a new theory started to take shape.

"This place originated from elsewhere... a realm where the laws are so potent that even experts at the peak of the Third Realm could scarcely leave a scratch on it."

It was a land where figures like the Samsara Lord were not merely known, but revered.

Though his theory still had gaps, Cain felt certain he was onto the truth. The exact origin of the island remained a mystery, yet one specific image haunted his mind—the massive structure he had glimpsed within the memories of the Ancestor of the Root.

The tower.

Considering the architectural parallels between that distant location and the Crimson World, the idea of a connection felt entirely plausible.

Unfortunately, these revelations provided no immediate solution to the perils of Origin Island. Nevertheless, Cain etched the information into his memory, sensing that these details would prove vital in the days to come.

Ultimately, the only path forward was to keep moving.

After a brief moment with eyes closed, he summoned the Power of Chaos, letting its resonance pull him toward the island's center.

---

A sprawling garden lay hidden within the innermost circle of Origin Island.

Crossing its threshold resulted in a total shift in atmosphere. The area was a bastion of serenity and concord, where every blade of grass and curve of the earth existed in flawless equilibrium. The landscape was arranged in a natural circle, forming a perfect ecosystem that appeared entirely untouched by the chaos of the outside world.

A shrine stood at the very heart of this verdant sanctuary.

Crafted entirely from the living wood and foliage of the island, the structure seemed to grow out of the environment itself. Eight individuals stood inside the shrine, all sharing the same striking white hair and violet eyes. Their faces were grim as they looked upon the prisoner held at the center.

Obsidian energy chains were coiled tightly around the man, keeping him in a state of total suppression. His vacant, unfocused stare indicated he was lost in a profound coma.

The man’s identity was clear.

It was Bradly.

Just as the group prepared to speak, a new aura manifested. Without hesitation, the eight figures bowed low.

The newcomer possessed the same violet eyes, but his hair was a deep black. His gaze held an ancient weight and authority that could only be forged through eons of existence. Clad in a dark, flowing robe of intricate design, he projected a presence that was both royal and menacing. His long black hair framed a face that was stern, calm, and filled with resolve.

"Leader," the eight spoke as one.

The man acknowledged them with a grave nod, then stepped toward Bradly, pressing a single finger against the Neo-Angel’s brow.

Bradly’s body began to shiver violently.

Torrents of information erupted from him, flowing directly into the minds of everyone in the shrine. With a mere touch, every secret Bradly had tried to hide was laid bare. As the knowledge took hold, the expressions of the violet-eyed warriors turned increasingly dark.

Dozens had infiltrated Origin Island, and among them were individuals of such immense power that they posed a threat even if the defenders used their ultimate forms.

Once the memory extraction concluded, the group looked toward the horizon.

A streak of obsidian energy tore through the sky, landing at the shrine and taking a humanoid shape. When they saw Ideonus, their concern deepened.

Atena had failed to crush her target, though she was largely unharmed. Ideonus, however, had been pushed to the point of using their race's ultimate survival technique, highlighting just how lethal their enemies were.

The leader let out a heavy sigh as he assessed the situation of their sanctuary.

"Ahhh... they have returned once more," he murmured. "Those from the lower realm are targeting the King."

The eyes of the assembled warriors flared with sudden intensity.

"The duty of the Masked Race is to protect this island until the King’s awakening," the leader declared, his voice ringing with unshakable conviction. "And we shall fulfill that duty."

He stood before his warriors, his aura filling the shrine.

"Move out. We shall drive out every intruder, regardless of who they are. They may leave our home... or they can be ground to dust."

The Masked Race warriors gave a final, deep bow before vanishing toward the battlefield.

Left alone, the leader raised a hand toward the heavens.

In an instant, the sky above the entirety of Origin Island began to shake.