The Epic Tale of Chaos vs Order Chapter 2425 Fourth Realm Treasures

"ZNNNN-!"

A piercing cry of ripping flesh resounded over the chaotic field of war while the Aztorus King thrust his obsidian bone sword directly into the Kalous King's chest.

Lortar seized the edge of the blade and, channeling every ounce of his strength, halted its downward plunge.

This blade appeared hideous and timeless. Its face resembled smoothed petrified bone, dark like voidstone, with a lone living eye set into the hilt. The eye throbbed steadily, emitting temporal energy so thick and pure that it eclipsed even Eonar's own presence.

The weapon caused time to twist nearby.

Space quivered in response.

Dread flashed in Lortar's gaze right when he identified it. "You've brought the Blade of the End of Times into this battle..." the Kalous King snarled, crimson liquid dripping from his mouth. "I believed your realm had locked it away once the Omen Soul within raged out of control and consumed the former Aztorus King."

Eonar grinned.

It felt icy.

And arrogant.

"My father was feeble," he answered steadily. "He didn't possess the resolve—or the Ancestor Drop—to master a tool like this. His end was fitting."

He turned the blade a bit.

The tissue near the injury started to wither and crumble at a rapid pace, like ages of rot crammed into one pulse.

"I stand apart," Eonar went on. "My determination outmatches the Omen Soul's, and my Ancestor Drop harmonizes flawlessly with it. I can unleash its strength to the utmost."

Lortar's face grew stern.

He refused to cry out.

Instead, he drew in a profound breath and reached out with one arm.

A massive halberd formed in his hold, and he struck out at once, compelling Eonar to withdraw the sword and retreat. Even though the Aztorus King moved swiftly, a searing gash emerged on his side.

The armament called forth by the Kalous King proved grand and fearsome—its handle crafted from mysterious red alloy, its edge lined with twisting plasma that blazed intensely enough to warp the atmosphere. As soon as it emerged, the waters of the Ocean of the Blood Sun underneath started to boil away fiercely, huge vapors of blood-mist climbing toward the heavens.

Eonar's grin faded.

"Those odd cubes weren't the sole presents your heir fetched from the Dark Blood Kingdom," he whispered.

Lortar stayed silent.

He dropped into a crouch, clutching the halberd firmly with both fists while the heat near him soared. The very fabric of space started to dissolve, curving and distorting about his form until he seemed split and unsteady.

Eonar's murderous aura flared.

He lifted the Blade of the End of Times overhead.

Time-based force burst forth, creating scores—nay, multitudes—of layered phantoms of Eonar everywhere, all authentic, all lethal.

In under an instant—

They clashed.

As sword clashed against halberd, a burst of crimson and azure power vented wildly. For a fleeting moment, a tiny star ignited

in the heavens, unleashing ruin everywhere. The blasts leveled the clouds, crumbled far-off peaks, and compelled

even the Alpha-Omega Overgod Royal Blutlinie to fall back.

The monarchs' duel had shifted to a whole new level.

Cain observed it all.

Each motion.

Each surge of force.

Each clash of arms, heritage, and Omens.

Wonder and alarm surged in his spirit.

He'd witnessed myriad mighty relics in the Nine Empyrean Suns Universe and the Crimson World—but these arms were unique.

"They surpass the bounds of the Third Realm," Cain understood. "I can't verify if they count as genuine Fourth Realm Treasures... yet they're without doubt better than any Alpha-Omega Overgod armament. The boost they grant is terrifying."

Wariness rose inside him.

Yet his resolve held firm.

This conflict would serve as the forge for his renewed form.

While the dual rulers released their utmost fury, the wider arena mirrored the chaos.

Royal Blutlinie from each faction intensified their assaults, unleashing everything. Prima Deity and ArchDeity Blutlinie fought in savage turmoil, endless corpses tumbling into the Ocean of the Blood Sun, where the tides swallowed them without mercy.

Friend or foe—it mattered not.

The sea claimed everything.

Right as the fray hit its peak, a fierce blast boomed afar.

The pair of metal cubes invoked before by the Kalous King burst

from the blood sea.

They bore severe harm—symbols broken, exteriors fractured—but

their hearts still throbbed with dread force. Without pause, they sped toward the rulers' zone.

Eonar's brow furrowed sharply.

These relics posed grave threats. Despite his advantage,

he couldn't risk such meddling.

Lortar, though, smirked.

With those cubes aiding him, the scales might finally turn.

Yet his victory lasted mere moments.

Dozens of enormous blood limbs surged from the Ocean of the

Blood Sun, coiling around the metal cubes and stopping them in flight. Red bonds of fluid might constricted, scraping the devices and blocking their path.

"I won't contain them much longer!" The Blood King's roar echoed over the field. "Finish him—now!"

Though aimed at Eonar, the call spread to every line.

The conflict erupted with heightened savagery.

Each force discarded all protection, bent only on destruction.

Eonar's mouth twisted into a feral smile as grim ideas filled his head.

"Thank you, Blood King.

For that, I'll make your passing swift."

Igniting his vital essence without delay, Eonar exceeded his thresholds. The Blade of the End of Times wailed as its time force amplified, twisting Lortar's senses, slowing his replies by split seconds.

That proved sufficient.

The dark sword ripped across Lortar's torso again, widening the old cut and etching a fiery time mark into his body.

Lortar stumbled.

For the first time, real peril gleamed in his stare.

Eonar hoisted his sword, set to cleave the Kalous King's skull—

When abruptly—

"BOOM!"

Away in the distance, the blood limbs burst asunder.

The metal cubes at last escaped.

Each fired rays of destructive force, crashing straight into

Eonar's frame.

Blinding radiance engulfed the battlefield.