The Epic Tale of Chaos vs Order Chapter 2400 Blutlinie Race

While Cain observed the fighters vanishing far away, he felt utterly convinced that their departure marked no conclusion. They would come back—and on their next assault, greater hordes would arrive, armed with superior might.

"Had I refrained from striking," Cain pondered with icy detachment, "they still wouldn't have tolerated my presence."

In this manner, however, he had managed to seize a few.

A surge of merciless intent raced across Cain's mind as he directed his gaze inside, fixing on the assailants trapped deep inside the Ocean of the Blood Sun. For the initial occasion upon entering this bizarre cosmos, he now possessed sentient beings—vital wellsprings of insight.

Cain released his soul's might without delay.

His immense spirit unfurled, and through summoning the Power of Chaos alongside The Flow, his awareness plunged straight into the thoughts and essences of the ensnared fighters. Resistance proved absent. Against Cain's soul, theirs appeared brittle and vulnerable.

The majority of prisoners stood at Peak Prima Deity level, although a handful had ascended to Arch-Deity status. The volume of data stored in their recollections proved vast—exceeding Cain's anticipations by far.

"Blutlinie Race."

This emerged as the initial discovery.

Cain discovered that the colossal, demonic assailants who assaulted him hailed from one unified race—and even more astonishingly, they represented the sole sentient species across this cosmos. All entities he detected in remote urban centers, ranging from massive beasts clad in thorns and animated plating to lithe figures with pale locks and an extra scarlet gaze, shared this racial origin.

In spite of their vast bodily distinctions, every one was Blutlinie.

Nevertheless, the gaps among them proved immense.

Their physical forms, inherent capabilities, and battle prowess differed so dramatically that occasionally they seemed like separate kinds of creatures.

"From their recollections," Cain pressed on with his examination, "they all descended from a lone progenitor—who disseminated his essence across the cosmos. Those droplets of blood spawned the original Blutlinie."

A grave demeanor settled over Cain's mind as he mulled over that assertion.

Spawning a whole lineage able to sustain and conquer a universe stood as breathtaking—and profoundly disturbing. No entity from the Third Realm ought to achieve such an accomplishment.

"This could be a legend embedded in their traditions," Cain determined, "or the Blutlinie Ancestor transcended the Third Realm completely."

As Cain delved deeper, the aura of peril intensified markedly.

Within the Nine Empyrean Suns Universe—and the Crimson World too—an Alpha-Omega Overgod level sufficed for endurance, if vigilance prevailed. Yet in this place?

Such strength fell woefully short here.

Curbing the impulse for hasty judgments, Cain persisted in drawing out wisdom from the fighters' essences.

"The initial lineage boasted tremendous reproductive vigor," Cain discerned, "producing innumerable descendants."

Still, across successive lineages, the blood's potency diluted and fluctuated wildly. Such shifts spawned infinite diversities in the Blutlinie—some diminished to servitude, while others grew so formidable they almost matched the progenitors.

Cain honed his concentration.

A hierarchy prevailed—but not rooted in birth, heritage, or form.

It rested solely on strength.

The mighty dominated. The feeble got forsaken.

Offspring of elite houses faced no immunity. Lacking aptitude, they faced swift expulsion.

"Such rank remains fluid," Cain went on uncovering. "They evolve their forms and lineages via cultivation, plus devouring potent artifacts and materials."

Yet a grimmer reality lurked.

"Nothing nourishes more," the recollections disclosed, "than the remains of superior Blutlinie in the hierarchy."

Cain remembered the devastation he perceived in the metropolis—the visions

of massacre, the creatures consuming each other unbound.

Suddenly, clarity dawned.

"Regardless," Cain surmised, "ascending from the lowest rung proves extraordinarily arduous. The gifted propel ahead with minimal toil. Shattering the established order borders on unattainable."

That epiphany brought Cain to a key insight.

The concentration and quality of the lineage shaping his emerging form would

prove essential for his impending advancement. It required maximization prior to

his regeneration's finale.

Concluding his review of the dominant species, Cain shifted to the next—and possibly paramount—subject.

The essence of the cosmos proper.

Upon pulling the designation of this domain from their minds, Cain

nearly chuckled.

"Paradise?"

The contradiction struck as ridiculous.

This cosmos embodied a nightmare of gore, devastation, and perpetual

butchery. If paradise resembled this, Cain couldn't fathom the visage of perdition.

"Well," Cain reflected with wry detachment, "who am I to critique the title choices

of foreigners?"

Pressing forward with his scrutiny, Cain probed the cosmos's framework.

"It assumes an upside-down pyramid shape," he grasped. "My position lies at the topmost—and feeblest—tier, called the Dark Blood Realm."

Regarding its expanse...

Cain halted. "Ninefold the dimensions of the Everstrife Empyrean World."

The realm's colossal breadth left him reeling. It overshadowed realms

of the Crimson World.

"Small surprise it seems so vast," Cain conceded.

Yet admiration demanded no lingering.

Cain's attention intensified as he examined the political layout of

the Dark Blood Realm—and for the first arrival here, favorable tidings arrived.

"I reside in the territory of the Kalous Kingdom," Cain

uncovered, "the frailest among the five dominions governing this domain."

Even better, the Kalous Kingdom clashed in conflict with its adjacent rival—the Aztorus Kingdom.

"Thus," Cain inferred, "the troops they deploy against me stay constrained."

A spark of ease passed through his expansive mind.

His form remained unfinished. Confronting a kingdom's total force—

much less several—spelled catastrophe now. Even so, Cain shunned dependence on chance.

"I must hasten all processes," he decided. "Fate offers no reliable crutch."

That choice settled, Cain started harnessing the stellar force

buried profoundly in the Ocean of the Blood Sun.

Across this cosmos, that force bore one designation.

Omens.