The Epic Tale of Chaos vs Order Chapter 2428 The birth of the third body
Previously on The Epic Tale of Chaos vs Order...
A broad grin spread across Lortar's features while the point of his halberd plunged down towards the Ocean of the Blood Sun. Triumph seemed just a breath away—one last blow, and it would all be over.
Suddenly—
"CRACK!"
A breaking noise boomed over the crimson sea.
Right then, it seemed like time had come to a standstill. Silence engulfed the entire field of battle, broken only by that horrifying noise rippling through the heavens and ground, bouncing back and forth without end in all directions. The sound repeated over and over, reaching distances beyond the horizon, as if the very fabric of existence was fracturing.
The event didn't last even a full second.
But to the pair of monarchs, it dragged on forever.
As motion resumed, pure horror surged inside Lortar's chest.
Success was mere moments from his grasp—yet every gut feeling urged him to run. To get away. To create the greatest separation he could between him and the Ocean of the Blood Sun.
For millions of years, Lortar had endured. He had outlasted endless conflicts, treacheries, and disasters.
No one understood better than him the importance of heeding those inner warnings.
Acting on impulse, he stopped his descent, pouring forth his full might to halt the pull yanking him down. The air twisted as his halberd glowed with held-back energy.
The moment he started ascending—
A gigantic palm burst out from the bloody waters.
Human-like but nightmarish, its digits tipped with talons designed purely for killing. The palm lunged at Lortar's skull with eerie accuracy.
"DEATH."
The single word vibrated straight into Lortar's spirit.
The King of Kalous exploded his energy in a frantic surge, unleashing a rush of fire that propelled his form upwards. The fierce
thrust sent him flying from the sea and right next to the Aztorus King.
Just moments before, only deadly hostility had separated the two.
At this point—
Being beside Eonar brought a sense of security.
Before Lortar could even process how absurd that idea was, a stream of blood erupted from his neck.
Disbelief filled the eyes of both rulers as they spotted the injury—a slender,
exact cut sliced perilously near his windpipe.
Lortar moved without delay, searing the skin closed to halt the flow.
Icy fear rooted itself firmly in his gaze.
The strike had escaped his sight.
He hadn't detected it at all.
"You were quick," a serene voice boomed through the air.
"One more nanosecond, and your throat would be torn apart."
Shivers ran through the duo of kings.
Gradually, their stares lifted towards the heavens.
There—floating over the Ocean of the Blood Sun—he appeared.
Labeling the figure as merely male seemed too simple.
His build was lofty and human-shaped, chiseled with clear-cut muscles, every gesture exuding subtle command. White hair framed his head, trimmed neatly on top and sides. Odd symbols ran over his limbs and chest, each mark throbbing softly with inherited strength.
Yet his gaze captured their attention completely.
Scarlet fire blazed in his left and right eyes, with embers dancing inside.
And on his brow—
A third eye.
A crimson Ancestor Eye gleaming with intensity so profound it overshadowed the monarchs' own. It was like pitting stars against the sun in comparison.
Unwittingly, Eonar and Lortar gripped their hands tightly while they looked on.
As Royal Blutlinie, they ranked among Paradise's elite.
Still, the gap in their Ancestor Drops compared to his loomed so immense that the entity facing them appeared to belong to a whole other
level of being.
The spectacle didn't stop with that.
Scarcely a minute following Cain's emergence, the heavens in the Dark Blood Realm of
Paradise lit up.
Brilliant radiance poured over the firmament.
Next, chimes sounded.
No symbolic chimes.
Real chimes—immense, ghostly, and booming—materialized all over the sky, their peals carrying through dimensions as the Omens responded to the advent
of a grand entity.
Paradise seemed to celebrate in delight.
The realm recognized the coming of a figure fated to
alter its very rules.
In the air, Cain hovered serenely, his aura filled with grandeur, enveloped in the event's light. The chimes kept tolling,
announcing not just fresh birth—but a fresh age.
Astoundment coursed through the monarchs' cores.
However, they refused to let it freeze them.
Deep inhalations calmed their essences and anchored
them back to the present.
"So that's the reason you massacred our kin," Eonar uttered deliberately, his
tone edged yet restrained. "To shape your form. You're a genuine
demon."
Those phrases were picked with intent.
He aimed to delay.
The Soul Sundering Technique was waning. In moments, its weight would vanish completely, letting them reclaim total command of their abilities. Each passing instant also helped their essences settle and their life force rebound.
Cain's form was fearsome—beyond doubt, regal.
Yet he was freshly created.
Although their lineages howled of lesser status, that force stemmed from their Ancestor Drops—not pure power level. Cain's presence lingered at the summit of Early Alpha-Omega Overgod.
United in battle, victory remained possible.
"I'll accept that as praise," Cain answered, his face serene.
"Particularly from one who would've erased me once I lost my value."
Eonar's gaze intensified—but he offered no rebuttal.
A single nod came from him.
"You're right. Paradise follows the rule of survival. The mighty
consume the frail."
Lortar gave a nod too.
"I hate you for slaying my subjects," he stated icily. "But I admire your determination—and your brutality."
Without speaking, the monarchs grasped each other's aims.
They dragged things out.
They healed. They readied a joint assault.
And luck smiled on them—the golden light below at last
dimmed as the Soul Sundering Technique completely dissolved.
Cain stayed quiet.
A single second elapsed.
Followed by another.
A full minute elapsed.
At last, Cain broke the silence. "Time's over," he declared evenly.
"Your souls must be steady now."
Both rulers' eyes grew wide.
He had pierced their scheme entirely.
Even worse, he had permitted it.
The truth hit like no weapon could.
The Blood King they faced was either a haughty idiot—
Or so absolutely assured that, even restored, they offered no true danger.