The Epic Tale of Chaos vs Order

Chapter 2028: The Scarlet King vs everybody (II)

Shock and horror rippled through the ranks of the Imperium of Time as they witnessed the brutal savagery of the Scarlet King. Yet these were not fledgling soldiers but warriors forged in millions of years of war. Their wills tempered by endless conflict, and from which they rose to the highest level of this world. Their instincts seized upon even the faintest opening.

Two titans of brute power moved first. Polo and Gilgamesh, each wielding axes vast enough to split continents, hurled themselves forward. Their strikes did not rise from loyalty to the Imperium of Time, but from something far older and sharper: fear. Fear of the Scarlet King. Fear of a being who stood above the gods.

Together, they poured their life force into a single attack, their axes whistling through the sky with enough force to cleave the firmament. The sea boiled beneath the weight of their swings.

The Scarlet King twisted his body, blood still streaming from the stump of his severed left arm, yet his response came faster than thought. A single fist, driven forward.

”BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!”

The blow struck like an apocalypse. Their axes cracked, fragments spiraling into the void. Polo and Gilgamesh were sent tumbling, bodies crashing through the air, blood spilling from their mouths in scarlet arcs. The ocean quaked at their fall.

But before Cain could steady himself, Azazel appeared behind him—silent, merciless. The True Depravita’s many claws fused into a single colossal mace, a weapon that seemed to bend reality itself around its weight. Faster than time, it struck.

The Scarlet King was slammed downward like a falling star. His body blazed as it streaked toward the waves. But just before impact, he twisted. His frame cut through roaring waters, gliding with impossible precision, eyes already rising toward the enemies above.

They were giants, colossi the size of worlds. Yet as they gazed upon him, their faces revealed not pride or fury—but fear.

Cain ignored their terror. His mind, sharpened by Order, registered every shift in power, every breath of intent. It was why he sensed the danger a heartbeat before it struck and launched himself into the air and out of the ocean’s surface.

From the depths of the ocean surged psychic corruption, so immense that the waters blackened, thickened, and churned with evil essence.

Legion’s power corrupted the entire body of water, up to the last drop.

Even with a gaping wound torn through its chest, the eldritch entity showed why it had once stood as Alpha-Omega Overgod. The ocean itself bent to its will, writhing as though it were its own flesh.

From this abyss of darkness and malice, dragons erupted.

They were not beasts of flesh, but colossal serpents of plasma and madness, each forged from Legion’s life force and psychic core. Their bodies twisted like cosmic devourers, their scales woven of searing energy and malice. They climbed toward the firmament, leaving scars of fire across the sky.

Their eyes blazed like twin dying stars, hollow yet merciless. Their maws yawned wide, vomiting storms of crackling energy that boiled the seas beneath them. The ocean became a cauldron of steam and corruption as their countless roars shook sea and sky alike.

”Now! Keep attacking!” Azazel roared, his voice carrying above even the dragons’ screams.

Legion’s spell was overwhelming, but also desperate. This was the card of a wounded god. If they failed to exploit it now, if they did not press Cain to his limits, then this place will become the tomb of many of them.

The Scarlet King tore through the sky, dodging dragon after dragon. His palms sundered the ones that drew too close, each swipe blasting them into clouds of vapor. Yet even his power had limits, and this storm of monsters pressed him ever closer to them.

The ArchDeities, spearheaded by Azazel, pounced upon the opportunity, each of them brusnign with power capable of dwarfing suns.

Cain opened his palms, fingers curling in calculated rhythm. He slashed, and half a dozen dragons disintegrated into nothingness. But at that exact instant, another strike came.

Tibet.

The pseudo-Depravita had lost his arms, but not his resolve. Rather than heal, he had funneled all his essence into a single weapon—his right leg. He crashed into Cain with every fragment of strength remaining.

The Scarlet King reeled, body rolling through the air.

Calypso seized the chance. Dark waters swelled at her command, rivers of death condensed into colossal hands. They smashed together around Cain, their impact exploding the ocean into torrents of shadow.

But before triumph could bloom on her lips, icy dread seized her.

A hand coiled around one of the tentacles that formed her lower body.

The Scarlet King had slipped free in the last instant. Now he spun her titanic form as though she were no more than a water serpent. Her body whistled through the air before slamming into Heronimo, who had been racing toward Cain’s back.

The two ArchDeities collided in an eruption of force, blood spraying from their mouths as they spiraled away, broken and gasping, but things were far from over, since not even a second after the Scarlet King took care of those two, Polo’s massive axe descended once more.

The Scarlet King ducked, sliding beneath the blow, only to reappear before the giant’s abdomen. His fist crashed forward, all his strength focused into a single strike.

The colossus folded like a puppet with its strings cut, his body hurled backward, vomiting torrents of blood.

Cain wasted no movement. He thrust downward, his first detonating another cluster of plasma dragons, reducing them to fragments of shrieking essence, and before taking a breath, he vanished again, dodging Azazel’s swipe.

In the same instant, his foot came down upon the True Depravita’s shoulder.

The kick landed with such ferocity that bones shattered. Azazel’s body was hammered down into the ocean depths, waves splitting apart as though the sea itself had cracked.

The battle only grew fiercer. The ocean transformed into a battlefield of nightmare scale, each clash shaking sky and earth. Plasma dragons screamed as they collided with void-born fists. Colossi tumbled through the sky, their roars drowned in their own blood.

It was not just a battle. It was an era reborn.

The ocean itself, the sky above, and the trembling lands around bore witness to a clash worthy of the First Era, when gods and titans forged the bones of reality in war.

And at its center, the Scarlet King stood—wounded, bleeding, yet unbroken—facing down an Imperium of Time alone.