The Epic Tale of Chaos vs Order

Chapter 2132: Self-created Flow Art

The Crimson Exarch’s vision trembled. His brain slammed against the inside of his skull as the world spun violently around him.

The damage would have been catastrophic if not for the thin shell of Flow-light he had compressed around his head just before the strike landed. Even so, everything felt heavy and blurred, his thoughts echoing sluggishly like ripples across fogged glass.

There was no time to recover.

Tiramisu was already upon him.

Her claw descended like a meteor, cleaving the air with the wrath of the True Depravita of Primal Fury.

His body refused to respond in time—but instinct did. He fired both of his guns, releasing a burst of energy. The blast propelled his body to the side, narrowly avoiding the deadly strike that tore through the air where his head had been.

He twisted mid-flight, his mind clearing just enough to act. The twin guns shimmered, merging in a swirl of red light into a single weapon—a rifle forged of divine alloy and compressed Flow energy. He braced himself, aimed directly at Tiramisu, who was already lunging toward him again.

Her claw came within a finger’s width of his eyes when he fired.

”BOOOOOOMMMMM!”

A thunderous explosion shattered the stillness of the Fourth Ring.

The impact struck Tiramisu square in the chest, launching her backward through the air. Her massive form tumbled, crashing into the obsidian earth and carving a deep crater where she landed.

Her gaze dropped to the scorched wound burned across her chest. The flesh there sizzled, blackened, and cracked open, glowing faintly with embers of lingering energy.

For a moment, her expression darkened.

But then she smiled—a wild, feral curve of her lips. The wound began to close before his eyes, the flesh knitting together as her immortal constitution reasserted itself. Within seconds, she was whole again.

Still, the fact that a Middle ArchDeity could injure her at all—even briefly—was astounding.

”Impressive,” she thought. ”And dangerous.”

Her killing intent sharpened, cold and pure.

The thought process lasted less than a heartbeat. The instant her feet touched the ground, she surged forward again, vanishing from sight in a blur of fury.

The Crimson Exarch reformed his rifle back into twin guns, both hands moving in perfect synchronization. He fired continuously, using the recoil of each shot to propel himself backward and sideways, gliding across the battlefield in erratic bursts of speed.

Each pull of the trigger created invisible shockwaves that redirected his own momentum, keeping him one step ahead of the monstrous Depravita pursuing him.

Tiramisu’s eyes gleamed, sharp and predatory. Every attack she unleashed carried the weight of primal instinct and divine fury. The longer she fought, the more her power surged.

Her title—Primal Fury—was not a mere name. It was her essence, her Dream, her nature. She embodied the raw instinct of beast and god alike: fury born from the heart of creation itself.

Unlike some True Depravitas like Zarazel, she possessed no elegant tricks, no illusory powers. Her strength was direct and devastating.

The longer she fought, the more the storm within her grew. Every wound fed her wrath; every exchange made her stronger.

For anyone facing her, a prolonged battle was a death sentence.

But the Crimson Exarch had no choice.

He kept firing, his guns glowing white-hot from the strain. Each step he took left scorched trails across the ground. His body bore burn marks where the friction of near-misses had seared him. His focus narrowed to a single truth: survive, adapt, endure.

And then—she broke through.

Tiramisu roared, her body erupting in plasma-hot light. The red energy of her fury condensed across her form until she blazed like a living sun.

Her right fist drew back, glowing brighter and brighter as it gathered the full force of her power.

When it struck, it would obliterate him—body, soul, and core alike.

The punch came down, unstoppable.

But just before it landed, the Exarch moved his right hand.

Two fingers extended—the index and middle—touching the center of her knuckles.

The explosion never came.

The world seemed to hold its breath.

All the destructive energy packed into her strike vanished, dispersed as though it had never existed.

Tiramisu’s eyes narrowed, gleaming with recognition. ”Redirection.”

But instead of anger, amusement flickered in her gaze.

Her left claw shot forward—not toward the right arm where the energy would flow, but his stomach, where the transmutation of energy was centered.

If she struck there, the redirected energy would destabilize. His internal matrix would collapse, the energy tearing apart his organs from within.

But the energy never went to the stomach. It barely had reached the Crimson Exarch’s forearm when it went back to the hand and was released as a chaotic and formless blast.

”BOOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMMM!”

A red flash illuminated the Fourth Ring.

The explosion spread outward in all directions, an expanding storm of chaotic energy that consumed everything nearby.

Both combatants were hurled apart.

The Crimson Exarch’s left hand was charred black, the flesh and muscle burned away to charcoal. He gritted his teeth against the pain, forcing his battered body upright.

Tiramisu fared worse.

Her right arm was gone below the shoulder—disintegrated in the blast. Her once-lustrous bone armor was blackened, and severe burn marks covered her torso and face.

The attack had carried the raw force of an Alpha-Omega Overgod’s full power strike. That she could still stand was a testament to her endurance.

Her rage flared—but with it came something else, calm.

The True Depravita’s breathing slowed. Her molten eyes softened, and a small, almost gentle smile curved her lips. Despite her fury, she maintained control—a sign of terrifying emotional discipline.

She looked at the Crimson Exarch, admiration glimmering in her gaze.

”That,” she said slowly, her voice deep and resonant, ”is a truly impressive technique. I did not know Redirection could be used that way.”

The Crimson Exarch stood silent for a moment, then gave a faint smile and shook his head.

”It can’t,” he replied. ”What you saw wasn’t pure Redirection—it’s my self-created Flow Art. I begin with Redirection to absorb the energy, but just as it enters through my fingers, I perform Divergence inside my forearm.”

He lifted his ruined arm slightly, wincing. ”That reverses the flow, forcing the energy to explode outward before it can reach my core. It’s extremely dangerous—one miscalculation, and I’d lose my entire arm... or half my body.”

He let out a faint, humorless chuckle. ”Even when it works, there’s still damage. But when I have nothing else left to use, it’s effective enough.”