The Epic Tale of Chaos vs Order Chapter 2481 The Red King of Paradise

Makeus stood as a colossal Peak Archdeity Blutlinie, his form a nightmarish merge of a massive gorilla and a fierce human fighter. Thorny protrusions spiked out from his shoulders, arms, and back, outlining him like a walking fortress of destruction. His gaze swept the distant lands while he commanded a squad of two hundred Bloodlines marching over the vast continent.

Their assignment appeared straightforward in concept, but carried fatal risks in reality: to patrol the continents and hunt for any traces of enemies.

The Eternal Soul Kingdom held no illusions. Though adversaries masked it cleverly, they recognized the Immortal Nirvana Kingdom's sly operations. The hush across the Realms wasn't serenity—it was pressure coiled to its breaking point. As a countermeasure, the Eternal Soul Kingdom positioned forces throughout its domains, scattering surveillance teams across the Eighth Soul Realm.

Naturally, units commanded by standard Blutlinie such as Makeus stood no chance against a Royal Blutlinie of the Immortal Nirvana Kingdom.

However, that wasn't their goal.

All they had to do was endure sufficiently to dispatch a warning.

And such a feat sufficed for the Eternal Soul King.

Makeus grasped the peril involved. He held no delusions. Should they cross paths with a Royal Blutlinie, the majority of his group would perish.

Still, his stare stayed keen and determined.

Should he spot invaders' signs, relay the alert effectively, and make it out alive, the prizes awaiting him would be tremendous.

"Perhaps," he mused, thrill bubbling in his core, "it could propel my Ancestor Drop's evolution and elevate me to Royal Blutlinie status!"

That vision set his spirit ablaze.

Achieving such advancement for a Blutlinie proved exceptionally uncommon. Yet successes frequently outshone typical Royal Blutlinie. Certain ones even ascended to King Level.

Makeus' breath grew a touch faster at the notion.

"ZNNNNNNNN-"

An eerie noise sliced the atmosphere, as if the heavens' weave ripped open.

Makeus whipped his head around.

His eyes bulged wide.

Stunned surprise morphed into terror.

His full battalion—two hundred Blutlinie—hovered still in mid-air.

Dead.

All of them.

Their hearts had vanished.

Their forms stayed erect, locked as if yanked from time's current.

Makeus' thoughts went empty.

Before grasping the event—

Before relaying a signal to the Eternal Soul

Kingdom—

A palm wreathed in golden fire stabbed into his torso.

Makeus parted his lips to cry out, yet silence followed.

The hand pulled back, gripping his pulsing heart.

Quietus Force flooded his frame right away, halting his vitality and essence before any fight. His awareness faded, shattered, and dissolved without a fight.

Cain eyed the heart in his grasp, his face showing total apathy.

Scarlet fire blazed up.

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The heart crumbled to dust, tissue and fluid consumed until just a cleansed mote of Ancestor Drop lingered, honed to almost flawless state. He performed the ritual on the other hearts too. Two hundred tiny, glowing droplets hovered in front of him, their merged glow dim beside the yield from Jasmir.

Cain merged them swiftly.

A intricate grin formed on the Scarlet King's visage.

The sustenance from a whole squad paled against even a sliver from a Late Royal Blutlinie.

"Ah... before long, I'll roam unbound once more," he whispered while drawing the purified core into the Perfect Ancestor Drop inside

his heart.

His strength kept rising.

His craving intensified.

He yearned to pursue real titans—Royal Blutlinie, King-Level Overgods. Yet rash moves were forbidden. Overtly massacring Royal Blutlinie would attract intolerable scrutiny.

Thus, temporarily, he contented himself with these minor squads.

Thankfully, liberation from restraints loomed near.

The Immortal Nirvana Kingdom was destined to dispatch troops into the Eight Soul Realm. Amid that turmoil's outbreak, disorder would offer ideal concealment.

Cain drew in a deep breath, then consumed the leftover vitality and essence from the squad's remains. Their shells dried to cinders, dispersing on the breeze like they never were.

Afterward, he pressed forward.

For weeks, the Scarlet King's routine repeated in steady pattern.

Hunt.

Kill.

Refine.

Grow stronger.

Until at last—

"BOOOOOO0000000000000000MMMMM-!"

A colossal blast resounded from the far-off skyline.

Cain had finished devouring yet another squad when the blast's wave hit him. It originated from an inconceivable distance, but hit with force that sent tremors through the atmosphere and against his flesh.

He halted.

Then—

"Hahahahaha... at last!"

Excitement flared in his gaze.

Just one type of fight could unleash such devastation.

A confrontation of Royal Blutlinie—at minimum Late Alpha-Omega Overgods.

The Eternal Soul Kingdom banned infighting harshly. None in the Eighth Soul Realm dared challenge Shakra so boldly.

That pointed to a single cause.

The Immortal Nirvana Kingdom's fighters had launched their

attack.

Cain balled his hands.

Lethal desire and appetite gleamed on his features.

He could at last pursue fitting quarry.

In war's frenzy, the Eternal Soul Kingdom would mistake him for just another Immortal Nirvana Kingdom operative. Even should they uncover his Ninth Realm roots, they couldn't concentrate on him fully amid blazes ravaging their territories.

The initial target in his thoughts was a Limit Alpha-Omega Overgod—a King Level Royal Blutlinie.

This entity would make ideal kindling to spark his second Hollow Star.

However, Cain refused to let haste blur his caution.

"Initially, I must grasp both factions' might and motions,"

he pondered steadily. "My prowess is great—but King-Level entities aren't foes to underestimate. Should their Ancestor Power clash against mine adversely, death awaits."

Cain honored power—his and rivals' alike.

He'd witnessed myriad prodigies perish from slighting opponents.

Most often, felled by his strike.

"I require a fresh persona," he resolved. "One evoking fear and enigma. Essential for upcoming plots."

A purposeful gleam danced in his eyes.

"Scarlet King serves no longer... so perhaps—"

Titles flitted through his mind.

Crimson King arose first.

But his sibling's grinning visage arose from recollections, prompting instant rejection.

He mulled a bit more.

Then a recollection from the Crimson World surfaced, drawing a soft smile.

Lifting his palm to his countenance, he shaped a mask over it.

Two terms escaped his lips.

"Red King"