The Epic Tale of Chaos vs Order Chapter 2390 The death of the Scarlet King (III)

Cain soon realized the dire situation unfolding before him.

Indeed, how could he possibly overlook the Alpha-Omega Curse—the force that gnawed at one's mind and wiped away recollections. It was the exact curse he had seized from Leonidas.

"Now!? This timing couldn't be any more disastrous!"

With fury and exasperation, Cain bellowed. This unfolding disaster was the absolute nightmare he dreaded most.

He had long anticipated the need to confront the curse someday, yet it progressed based on years lived. It wasn't supposed to strike until he exceeded a million years in age. Against the pressing dangers looming—threats that might explode in mere days—the curse had seemed like a far-off concern.

A matter that could be postponed.

Beyond that, Cain trusted that once his soul force ascended to the Alpha-Omega Overgod Rank, he'd possess the might to banish the curse completely.

But in this instant, the peril he'd pushed to tomorrow slammed into him during the most catastrophic juncture, ignited by his swift decline into old age.

"Dammit!"

Cain thundered, unleashing the seething rage and wrath churning within his chest. His cry reverberated across the shadowed metropolis, primal and untamed.

Once the eruption subsided, clarity sharpened in his eyes once more.

His mind turned to plotting his immediate course.

Time had grown even scarcer than earlier. Thus, he must hasten his pace—and embrace bolder dangers.

Resolve ignited in his stare as he balled his hands and hammered the barrier anew. On this strike, the impact ripped a gap wide enough for him to squeeze through.

As Cain burst from the shadowed city, his gaze blazed with intensity toward the horizon. His senses heightened intensely. Although reaching his allies remained impossible, he distinctly felt the path guiding him beyond the World Forge.

Regrettably, prior to advancing a single pace, golden bolts crashed down on him—bearing the universe's own malice and dominion.

Resurrección ignited without delay, transforming Cain's physique and amplifying his power. Violet fires erupted over his frame while he battled the bolts and ruin, advancing bit by painstaking bit.

However, his full strength had not returned.

Less than thirty seconds elapsed before Cain had to withdraw.

He flung himself back into the shadowed city, barely evading the golden bolts that poured through the breach. The barrier mended itself shortly after, blocking the furious tempest beyond.

Cain dropped to a single knee, his breaths coming in harsh gasps. Violet fires danced erratically over his form as he concentrated on mending his wounds.

"If I want any chance of escaping this place and contacting the rest of the Nine Empyrean Suns Universe," Cain murmured, "I'll need to

recover to my peak."

Drawing in a steadying breath, he compelled his thoughts to stay icy and steady. Surrendering composure at this point might prove deadly.

Restoring his peak would demand several days.

No shortcuts existed.

All he could manage was to start right away.

At his core, Cain held firm that escaping this trap would bring aid from his companions to conquer this crisis. That conviction steadied him, warding off utter hopelessness.

With a flick of his wrist, he unleashed a multitude of armaments and relics into the sky. These valuables weren't designed for absorption, yet his devouring powers converted them effortlessly into raw essence. Precisely as Cain cultivated through five hours, the process halted abruptly.

His eyes bulged while scanning his surroundings.

Every relic hovering nearby—halfway through shifting to essence—tumbled down simultaneously. The abrupt clamor caused Cain to spring away on reflex, assuming a combat posture.

Disarray and bewilderment overwhelmed his thoughts.

He scanned frantically in all directions.

Where had he ended up?

Cain grasped a blade from the floor, aiming to examine it—and

stilled completely.

In the sword's surface gleamed an aged visage.

Far too aged.

Terror rushed over him as the bewilderment intensified. His thoughts dragged heavily, his resolve strangely muted. An intense wave of fear gripped

his core.

Seeking to regain balance, Cain started strolling amid the shadowed city.

He roamed for almost thirty minutes until awareness snapped back.

Horror and alarm flickered in the Scarlet King's gaze upon comprehending the event.

Nightmares forged outside the cosmos he could confront—but against his own psyche as foe, what recourse remained?

Peering at his form below, Cain noted the decay had progressed even

more. His vital years ebbed steadily.

Gritting his jaws, he recommenced his cultivation.

Armaments and relics appeared afresh and dissolved into

essence to sustain his deteriorating frame.

Regrettably, prior to five hours elapsing this round, the curse struck once more.

His reason was torn asunder.

Cain roamed without purpose across the shadowed city, etching shapes into

the marred alloy with naked fingers. His actions moved unhurried and

purposeful, nearly tender.

Paradoxically, serenity settled over his features.

Lacking recollections or reason, worries vanished. Pressures dissolved. Fears

evaporated.

Only hollow tranquility lingered.

Naturally, as each hour ticked by, the peril mounted. His physique kept decaying, his life force leaking without mercy.

Buried deep in Cain's essence, posted watch before an enormous portal bound

with fiery and electric bonds, Apex observed it all.

The timeless System Spirit failed to conceal his worry.

The calamity afflicting Cain formed an ideal tempest of ruin. Confined within the barrier.

His form decaying at a terrifying rate.

His reason fading repeatedly.

Apex parted his lips, poised to utter—

Then he halted.

The portal at his back shuddered.

From its fissures, a colossal orb glared forth at him.

The threat in that stare was undeniable.

Interference was forbidden to him.

This trial belonged to Cain.

He must endure it solitary—or perish amid it.

Apex tightened his grip, locking eyes with the orb for many drawn-out moments prior to sighing and holding his tongue.

Following over forty-five minutes, Cain's reason resurfaced.

Gazing upon the shapes he'd inscribed in his lost moments, a

spark of sorrow passed through his eyes.

There, chiseled into unyielding alloy with uncanny accuracy, rose his

kin.

Impeccable.

Immobile.

Anticipating.