The Epic Tale of Chaos vs Order

Chapter 2002: The age of war had begun

The eyes of Cain, Amon, Bael, and Leonidas glowed with crimson light as the veil of self-hypnosis they had placed upon themselves faded.

In order to deceive an enemy, one must first deceive oneself. That was the lesson Cain had instilled in them. And so, when Dionisio had revealed his monstrous form and rejoined the battlefield, they had shown fear and anxiety—expressions that even they themselves believed for a time. The illusion was perfect, convincing to both foe and self alike.

That allowed Leonidas’s greedy friend, the one who had been quietly circling the battlefield since the beginning, waiting like a vulture for the right moment to strike. He had leapt from the shadows precisely when they had planned and captured an ArchDeity.

Without hesitation, the battle resumed with renewed ferocity.

Leonidas, Bael, and Amon immediately activated their Samsara Seals, burning their own life force, soul essence, and willpower to ignite their strength beyond their limits. This was the critical moment—the enemy was wounded and they had the advantage. If they pressed forward, they might cripple Azazel’s forces forever.

Power exploded from them like novas.

The four ArchDeities of the Scarlet Path surged together, overwhelming Calypso, Gilgamesh, and Juda in a storm of destruction.

Azazel’s eyes narrowed behind his helm. Even the mighty True Depravita could not keep the heat from burning in his chest, nor the anger from flaring in his soul. Cain had already humiliated him with that first strike, taking him by surprise. Worse, Cain had tricked him—tricked him into believing Dionisio’s emergence had tilted the battle in his favor.

Now the situation was deteriorating swiftly.

Wounds began to manifest across the bodies of his remaining allies. A torrent of flame tore through Juda’s golden wings, blackening their radiant feathers. Calypso shrieked as Leonidas’s blade, burning with the primal fire, severed several of her abyssal tentacles. Gilgamesh staggered under Bael’s onslaught, a blazing cut searing his chest, while Leonidas’ friend shattered his shoulder, leaving his left arm limp and crippled.

Fear—true fear—flashed in their eyes. They began edging back, instincts of survival overwhelming their pride. But there was no escape. Leonidas, Bael, and Amon pressed in from every side, driving them toward doom.

Each strike landed in Liberación Total struck not only flesh but soul, branding agony into will and essence alike. These were wounds not easily healed. If the trio of enemies fell here, the war would be decided. Even if Azazel survived, the Scarlet Path’s victory would echo across the world. No power, no sect, no Heaven would dare join a doomed cause.

The True Depravita alone was formidable—but not formidable enough to stand against the entire Everstrife Empyrean World.

Cain smiled fiercely as he continued his own clash with Azazel. Leviathan’s claws tore through Jormungandr’s coils again and again, keeping the Serpent of the End of Time pinned, denying him the chance to aid his allies.

Finally, Azazel’s calm broke.

For all his stoicism, he could not ignore the wounds inflicted on those who fought beside him. He did not love them. He did not even truly trust them. But they were comrades in war, foundations for his greater goal. Without them, his grand designs would crumble.

Determination burned in his eyes. His soul flared. His Depravity Aura surged.

Then it erupted.

A massive force field expanded from his body, engulfing the battlefield and spilling far beyond. Cain felt it instantly—his movements slowed, the flow of his thoughts thickened like tar. Time itself did not freeze, but it dragged. His body responded at a third of its usual speed.

Leonidas and his friend staggered. Bael strained. Amon gritted his teeth. All three felt the same oppression crush them.

Meanwhile, Calypso, Juda, and Gilgamesh blinked in astonishment as the weight lifted from them entirely. They moved freely within the field. Their eyes gleamed with hatred and murder. Finally—finally—they could strike back.

They raised their weapons, fury burning in their wounded bodies—

”Run! Now!”

Azazel’s voice thundered through the force field.

The three froze, shocked.

But when they turned toward him, they saw the truth: blood streamed from Azazel’s eyes beneath his helm, his body trembling with the strain. Even for him, this ability was too much. It could not last.

Grinding their teeth, Calypso, Juda, and Gilgamesh gave one final, venomous glare to the ArchDeities of the Scarlet Path. Then, without another word, they turned and fled, their figures streaking away at full speed.

Azazel did not linger. He shoved Cain back with a final burst of wrathful force and leapt after them, his aura cloaking theirs as they vanished into the horizon.

Five seconds later, the field collapsed. Cain and the others staggered, their strength returning in a flood, their speed restored. But by then it was too late. Azazel and his wounded allies were gone, their presence erased, their tracks concealed.

Cain’s entire body shook with restrained fury. His emotions howled for him to chase them down, to hunt them to the ends of the world and annihilate them utterly. He wanted Azazel’s head. He wanted his heart.

But his willpower was greater than his lust for battle.

He calmed his breathing, forcing the fire in his blood to settle, and analyzed things with a cold mind. Azazel carried knowledge of the First Era. If Cain chased recklessly, if he fell into some ancient trap left for Alpha-Omega Overgods, he could doom not only himself but all who followed him.

Patience. That was the key.

Taking a deep breath, Cain let his massive form diminish, returning to his mortal frame. Slowly, deliberately, he raised his fist into the sky.

”Victory!” he roared.

Leonidas, Amon, and Bael echoed him, their voices thunderous.

The first great battle of the World War had ended in triumph. The Scarlet Path had forced Azazel and his allies to retreat, left them broken and bloodied, and captured one of their number alive.

A resounding success. A statement to the entire world.

And across the Everstrife Empyrean World, countless cultivators, sects, and Heavens felt the tremors of this truth.

The Scarlet Path had struck the first blow.

The age of war had begun.