The Epic Tale of Chaos vs Order

Chapter 2481: The Red King of Paradise

Makeus was a towering Peak Archdeity Blutlinie whose appearance resembled a grotesque fusion between a hulking gorilla and a human warrior. Jagged spikes protruded from his shoulders, forearms, and spine, giving him the silhouette of a living siege weapon. His eyes scanned the horizon as he led a battalion of two hundred Bloodlines across the continent.

Their mission was simple in theory, deadly in practice: monitor the continents and search for any sign of invaders.

The Eternal Soul Kingdom was not foolish. Although the enemies concealed it masterfully, they were fully aware of the Immortal Nirvana Kingdom’s subtle maneuvers. The silence between the Realms was not peace—it was tension stretched to its limit. In response, the Eternal Soul Kingdom had deployed troops across its territories, spreading detection forces throughout the Eighth Soul Realm.

Of course, battalions led by ordinary Blutlinie like Makeus could not hope to defeat a Royal Blutlinie from the Immortal Nirvana Kingdom.

But that was not their purpose.

They only needed to survive long enough to send a message.

And that was enough for the Eternal Soul King.

Makeus understood the danger. He was not naïve. If they encountered a Royal Blutlinie, most of them would die.

Yet his eyes remained sharp and resolute.

If he discovered the tracks of invaders, reported them successfully, and survived, the rewards would be immense.

”Maybe,” he thought, excitement surging in his chest, ”it will be enough to help me evolve my Ancestor Drop and finally become a Royal Blutlinie!”

The dream ignited his heart.

For a Blutlinie to take that evolutionary step was extraordinarily rare. But those who succeeded often surpassed ordinary Royal Blutlinie. Some even rose to the King Level.

Makeus’ breathing quickened slightly at the thought.

”ZNNNNNNNN—”

A strange sound cut through the air, like the fabric of the sky itself being torn apart.

Makeus turned his head.

His eyes widened.

Shock turned to horror.

His entire battalion—two hundred Blutlinie—hung motionless in the sky.

Dead.

Every single one.

Their hearts were missing.

Their bodies remained upright, frozen in place as though pulled from the flow of time itself.

Makeus’ mind blanked.

Before he could comprehend what had happened—

Before he could send a transmission back to the Eternal Soul Kingdom—

A hand bathed in golden flames pierced through his chest.

Makeus opened his mouth to scream, but no sound emerged.

The hand withdrew, clutching his still-beating heart.

The Quietus Force surged instantly through his body, freezing his life force and soul before they could even react. His consciousness dimmed, crumbled, and vanished without resistance.

Cain glanced at the heart in his hand, his expression utterly indifferent.

Scarlet flames ignited.

The heart disintegrated, flesh and blood burning away until only a refined speck of Ancestor Drop remained, purified to near perfection.

He repeated the process with the remaining hearts. Two hundred small, luminous drops floated before him, their collective radiance faint compared to the one he had harvested from Jasmir.

Cain fused them together without hesitation.

A complicated smile appeared on the Scarlet King’s face.

The combined nourishment of an entire battalion could not compare to even a fraction of what a Late Royal Blutlinie would provide.

”Ah... soon I will be able to move freely again,” he murmured as he absorbed the refined essence into the Perfect Ancestor Drop within his heart.

His power continued to grow.

His hunger deepened.

He longed to hunt true powerhouses—Royal Blutlinie, King-Level Overgods. But he could not act recklessly. Slaughtering Royal Blutlinie too openly would draw unbearable attention.

So, for now, he satisfied himself with these lesser battalions.

Fortunately, it would not be long before the shackles were removed.

The Immortal Nirvana Kingdom was bound to send forces into the Eight Soul Realm. When that storm erupted, chaos would serve as the perfect cover.

Cain inhaled deeply, then devoured the remaining life force and soul force from the battalion’s corpses. Their bodies withered into ash, scattering in the wind as though they had never existed.

Then he moved on.

For weeks, the Scarlet King’s days followed the same rhythm.

Hunt.

Kill.

Refine.

Grow stronger.

Until finally—

”BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMMMM—!”

A massive explosion echoed across the distant horizon.

Cain had just consumed another battalion when the shockwave reached him. It was unimaginably far away, yet powerful enough that the aftershocks rippled through the air and trembled against his skin.

He froze.

Then—

”Hahahahaha... finally!”

Thrill ignited in his eyes.

Only one kind of battle could produce such destruction.

A clash between Royal Blutlinie—at least Late Alpha-Omega Overgods.

The Eternal Soul Kingdom strictly prohibited internal conflict. No one in the Eighth Soul Realm was insane enough to openly defy Shakra.

That left only one explanation.

The warriors of the Immortal Nirvana Kingdom had begun their assault.

Cain clenched his fists.

Killing intent and hunger flashed across his face.

He could finally hunt worthy prey.

In the chaos of war, the Eternal Soul Kingdom would assume he was merely another agent of the Immortal Nirvana Kingdom. Even if they somehow discovered he originated from the Ninth Realm, they would be unable to focus all their strength on him while threats burned across their domains.

The first prey that came to his mind was a Limit Alpha-Omega Overgod—a Royal Blutlinie at the King Level.

Such a being would be perfect fuel to ignite his second Hollow Star.

But Cain did not allow impatience to cloud his judgment.

”First, I need to understand the power and movements of both sides,” he thought calmly. ”I am strong—but King-Level powerhouses are not opponents I can treat lightly. If their Ancestor Power counters mine, I could die.”

Cain respected strength—his own and that of others.

He had seen countless geniuses fall because they underestimated their enemies.

More often than not, they had died at his hands.

”I need a new identity,” he decided. ”One that inspires awe and mystery. I’ll need it for future schemes.”

A meaningful light flickered in his eyes.

”I can’t use Scarlet King anymore... so what about—”

Names crossed his mind.

Crimson King was the first.

But then the smiling face of his brother surfaced in his memories, and he immediately dismissed it.

He considered for a few seconds longer.

Then a memory from the Crimson World emerged, and he smiled faintly.

Raising his hand to his face, he forged a mask upon it.

Two words left his mouth.

”Red King.”