The Epic Tale of Chaos vs Order Chapter 2472 Returning to the Nine Empyrean Suns Universe (II)

The abrupt emergence of the woman puzzled everyone on both factions.

Her identity remained unknown, as did her origins and the manner in which such a formidable being had materialized right in the heart of the chaos without any prior notice. In a fleeting second, bewilderment flickered in her gaze, suggesting that her arrival in this realm had encountered numerous obstacles.

However, that flicker of doubt vanished in no more than a heartbeat.

Determination and acuity swiftly took its place. With her golden stare, she scanned the entire field of battle, absorbing the vast devastation, the forces colliding in the emptiness, and the immense aura of might emanating from each side.

Next, her vision fixed upon two individuals.

Anark.

Robuke.

"Redemption Incarnation."

As soon as she uttered those words, her energy surged forth explosively.

Splendid wings erupted from behind her, both dazzling and fearsome simultaneously. Every wing embodied the core of one among the Seven Deadly Sins—wrath, pride, envy, greed, lust, gluttony, and sloth—intertwined into an odd yet dominating unity.

Following that, her eyes blazed with golden radiance.

A force that the assembled troops identified right away.

"The Flow!"

This technique was a signature of the Scarlet King. It served as one of his primary arms, and alongside the Power of Chaos, it was why he had

earned the title of the mightiest entity in existence prior to his exit.

Optimism flooded the souls of the Nine Empyrean Suns Alliance's fighters.

Should this female possess the Flow, she must surely link back to the Scarlet King.

The Root's Champions and High Lords arrived at an identical deduction.

Yet what stirred in their cores wasn't optimism.

Rather, it was lethal intent.

And that savage wrath burned fiercest in the Monster of the Root's core.

Typically, Robuke's fury proved beneficial. It boosted his power and propelled his inherently savage fighting approach to loftier levels.

Despite his vast combat wisdom, encountering a True Depravita marked a novel experience for him.

Had he faced one before, he would have grasped the peril of allowing dark feelings to rage unchecked within him.

The lesson loomed near.

"ZNNNN!"

The rip of flesh reverberated through the emptiness.

Meylin materialized instantly at Robuke's rear, her speed defying sight. A blade crafted from mental energy and her vital essence plunged into the Monster of the Root's rear, slicing through thick muscle and skeleton en route to his core.

For the first occasion in ages, terror gleamed in Robuke's gaze.

The edge flared with an eerie energy—one that devoured,

amplified, and razed in equal measure. Simultaneously, a crushing mental assault battered his consciousness and spirit, magnifying all dark sentiments inside him and forging them into a

tool to undermine his resolve.

"ARGHHHH!"

Like a maimed creature, Robuke bellowed.

All his sinews clenched. Skin, ligaments, and skeleton squeezed about the gash, impeding the sword's progress sufficiently to bar it from his heart.

Concurrently, he contorted his form at an unnatural bend and hurled his enormous battle axe at the winged female.

Meylin's gaze sharpened upon sensing the horrifying resilience of the Monster of the Root. Aware she couldn't end him in one blow, she pulled back at once and lifted her blade into a guarding

position.

A dark lotus bearing seven blooms unfurled about her, every bloom emitting the might of a fatal sin.

The axe demolished each one.

Nevertheless, the shields sapped a great deal of its drive. The leftover

impact hit the True Depravita, hurling her across the emptiness—but she seized command nearly immediately, halting with elegance and floating steadily as though the hit had merely delayed her.

Robuke's gaze seethed with deadly purpose.

The surprise attack and close brush with death at the start ignited profound shame within him. His sole desire was to

rip the female to shreds.

"Do you really think you have time to daydream?"

Robuke's gaze expanded in shock.

These exact phrases were what he had flung at Anark before, dripping with

derision.

Now, they boomeranged back at him.

The True Primordial of the Void streaked before him akin to a purple

meteor. His punch collided with Robuke's visage via immense power, snapping bone and flinging the colossal horror spinning over

the battleground.

Anark advanced for further strikes—but he halted.

A matter of greater urgency demanded his focus.

He pivoted to the winged female, his trio of purple eyes brimming with examination and intrigue.

The female drew a calm inhalation. Afterward, she regarded Anark—and past him, toward the Nine Empyrean Suns Alliance's troops.

"I am Meylin Laurifer," she declared, her tone firm and composed. "Wife of the Scarlet King, Cain Laurifer. I have come from the Crimson World

to fight by your side."

Astonishment spread across the Alliance.

Yet in the upper echelons of the Scarlet Kingdom—and among

figures like Anark—a significant gleam emerged. They were aware of Cain's venture outside their cosmos.

Even so, myriad inquiries surfaced in their thoughts.

Yet not a single one got voiced.

"Enough words," Anark's bellow resounded over the emptiness. "Let's fight!"

No lofty oration. No theatrical proclamation.

Simply an order.

Such was his command style—straightforward, resolute, and unyielding. His utterance sliced away uncertainty and indecision, granting pure resolve. Meylin gave a resolute nod and positioned herself next to him. Her presence kept escalating, constant and resolute, ready to stake her existence without a second thought.

That marked the resolve needed against the Root's terrors.

Opposite them, Robuke's fractured cranium mended as he ascended

gradually. Fury persisted in his depths—but now, he suppressed it. The monstrosity refused to succumb to that flaw once more.

His tone chilled beyond the void's depths.

"KILL!"

The Root's masses bellowed and charged ahead anew, the slaughter

flaring up once again on the field.

"FIGHT!"

Anark's retort bellow echoed in the vastness.

Yet this time, it didn't carry the tone of a leader confronting certain loss.

It rang as the cry of a fighter glimpsing hope amid the shadows.

at the end of the darkness.