The Epic Tale of Chaos vs Order Chapter 2428 The birth of the third body

A broad grin spread across Lortar's features while the point of his halberd plunged down towards the Ocean of the Blood Sun. Triumph seemed so close—just one last blow, and it would all be over.

Then—

"CRACK!"

A breaking noise boomed over the crimson sea.

For that moment, time appeared to halt completely. Silence engulfed the entire battlefield, broken only by that dreadful noise rippling through the heavens and ground, bouncing back and forth without end in all directions. It repeated over and over, reaching distances unseen, like the fabric of reality was fracturing apart.

The event didn't last even a full second.

But to the two kings, it dragged on forever.

As time resumed its flow, pure horror surged inside Lortar's chest.

Success was mere instants from his grasp—yet all his senses urged him to run. To get away. To create the greatest separation he could between him and the Ocean of the Blood Sun.

Lortar had existed for millions of years. He had endured endless conflicts, treacheries, and disasters.

No one understood better than him the importance of heeding his gut feelings.

Acting on impulse, he stopped his descent, pouring out every bit of his strength to reverse the pull yanking him down. Reality twisted as his halberd flared with held-back energy.

Right when he started ascending—

A gigantic hand burst out from the blood sea.

Human-like but nightmarish, its fingers tipped with talons built purely for killing. The hand lunged at Lortar's head with horrifying accuracy.

"DEATH."

The single word vibrated straight into Lortar's spirit.

The Kalous King exploded his energy in a frantic surge, unleashing a flood of fire that propelled his form upwards. The fierce

thrust sent him flying from the sea and right next to the Aztorus King.

Just moments before, only deadly hatred had separated them.

Now—

Being beside Eonar felt secure.

Before Lortar could process the twisted humor in that idea, a stream of blood burst from his neck.

Astonishment filled the eyes of both kings as they spotted the injury—a slender,

exact cut sliced perilously near his windpipe.

Lortar moved without delay, cauterizing the skin to seal the flow.

Icy fear rooted itself in his gaze.

He hadn't caught sight of the strike.

He hadn't detected it at all.

"You were quick," a serene voice boomed through the air.

"One more nanosecond, and I'd have torn your throat apart."

Shivers ran through the two kings.

Gradually, they lifted their stares to the sky.

There—floating over the Ocean of the Blood Sun—loomed the figure.

Labeling the entity simply as male seemed too basic.

His build was towering and human-shaped, chiseled with clear, powerful muscles, every motion exuding subtle command. White hair framed his head, trimmed neatly on top and sides. Odd rune patterns crawled over his limbs and chest, each symbol throbbing softly with inherited might.

Yet his gaze captured their attention most.

His twin eyes glowed crimson, with fires dancing inside.

And on his brow—

A third eye.

A scarlet Ancestor Eye radiating intensity so immense it overshadowed the kings' own. It was like pitting stars against a blazing star.

Eonar and Lortar gripped their hands tightly without thinking as they looked on.

They ranked as Royal Blutlinie—top-tier entities in Paradise.

Still, the gap in their Ancestor Drops compared to his loomed so huge that the creature facing them appeared to belong to a whole other

level of being.

And the spectacle kept going.

Scarcely a minute following Cain's emergence, the heavens in the Dark Blood Realm of

Paradise lit up.

Brilliant rays poured over the firmament.

Then chimes sounded.

No symbolic chimes.

Real chimes—immense, ghostly, and booming—materialized all over the sky, their peals carrying through dimensions as the Omens responded to the arrival

of a grand entity.

Paradise seemed to celebrate in joy.

The cosmos recognized the coming of a force meant to

alter its very rules.

Cain hovered steadily amid the clouds, his aura filled with grandeur, enveloped in the event's light. The chimes kept tolling,

announcing far more than fresh birth—but an entire new age.

Stunned waves hit the cores of the two kings.

But they refused to let it freeze them.

Deep inhalations followed, calming their essences and anchoring

themselves back to the present.

"So that's the reason you massacred our kin," Eonar uttered deliberately, his

tone biting yet restrained. "To shape your form. You're a real

fiend."

Each phrase was picked with intent.

He aimed to delay.

The Soul Sundering Technique was waning. In moments, its weight would vanish completely, letting them reclaim total command of their abilities. Each passing instant also helped their essences settle, their life force to mend.

Cain's form was fearsome—beyond doubt, awe-inspiring.

However, he had barely come into being.

Even as their lineages howled of weakness, that force stemmed from their Ancestor Drops—not pure training. Cain's presence lingered at the top of Early Alpha-Omega Overgod.

United in battle, victory remained possible.

"I'll accept that as praise," Cain answered, his face serene.

"Particularly from one who'd erase me the instant I lost value."

Eonar's gaze intensified—but he offered no rebuttal.

He gave a single nod.

"You're right. Paradise follows the rule of survival. The mighty

consume the frail."

Lortar agreed with a nod too.

"I hate you for slaying my followers," he stated icily. "Yet I admire your determination—and your brutality."

The kings grasped each other's aims silently.

They dragged things out.

They healed. They readied a joint assault.

And luck smiled on them—the golden shine below at last

dimmed as the Soul Sundering Technique completely dissolved.

Cain stayed quiet.

A single second ticked away.

Followed by one more.

A full minute elapsed.

At last, Cain broke the silence. "Time's over," he declared evenly.

"You've had enough to steady your essences by now."

Both kings' eyes grew wide.

He had pierced their ploy entirely.

Even worse, he had permitted it.

That truth hit fiercer than any weapon.

The Blood King ahead could be a cocky idiot—

Or so assured that even restored, they offered no true danger.