The Epic Tale of Chaos vs Order Chapter 2639: Growth in both sides

It did not take long for the energy within the spires to reach its peak.

Rivers of power surged through the massive structures, connecting them to the formations hidden within the heart of the Ouroboros Stronghold. Countless runes illuminated simultaneously, forming a vast network that spread across the land like veins carrying blood through a living body.

Then, under the shocked and distressed gazes of the Curse Eaters, the impossible happened.

The domain of the Ouroboros Stronghold—the territory whose laws granted the warriors of the Alliance a home-field advantage within the Fallen Empyrean World—began to expand.

The transformation was visible to the naked eye.

Golden barriers spread outward.

The oppressive laws of the Fallen Empyrean World were gradually pushed back.

The influence of the stronghold extended farther and farther, swallowing territory that had once belonged exclusively to the Curse Eaters.

"Dammit!"

"How is that even possible?!"

"What kind of stronghold is this?"

Voices filled with fury echoed across the battlefield.

The Curse Eaters stared in disbelief.

Even the weakest among them understood the significance of what they were witnessing.

The laws reinforcing this Empyrean World had been personally modified by the Tenth Empyrean World. Although those alterations were weaker than the ones protecting the other conquered worlds, they still carried the power of the Limit of the Third Realm.

Yet the Ouroboros Stronghold was overriding them.

The realization sent chills through their hearts.

For the first time, many of them truly understood why the Cult of Ouroboros had been feared during the First Era.

Even during the Great War, when countless supreme civilizations rose and fell, the Cult of Ouroboros had remained a force worthy of respect from the armies of Paradise.

Now they were witnessing the reason firsthand.

Unfortunately for the Curse Eaters, anger alone could not change reality.

Destroying the newly erected spires would require advancing deep into the domain of the Ouroboros Stronghold.

That meant enduring the weakening effects imposed by its laws.

Without Nito leading them, such a charge would amount to little more than a march toward slaughter.

The realization filled the Curse Eaters with unprecedented frustration.

They were an Apex Race.

Conquerors.

Warriors descended from a civilization that had endured for billions of years under the guidance of a Fourth Realm life form.

Yet they were being pushed back by an alliance forged less than two centuries ago.

Most of their enemies were younger than five hundred million years old.

The humiliation burned.

In the end, the Curse Eaters could do nothing but cast furious glances toward the warriors of the Six Sacred Races before retreating.

That sight brought immense satisfaction to the Alliance.

For years, they had been the ones forced onto the defensive.

For years, they had been retreating, sacrificing territory, and struggling to survive.

Now everything was changing.

Now they were advancing.

Now they were reclaiming lands stolen by the invaders from the Tenth Empyrean World.

The feeling ignited their fighting spirit.

Many warriors clenched their fists.

Others immediately returned to their duties with renewed determination.

They had tasted victory.

And now they wanted more.

Even Cain could not suppress the smile that appeared on his face.

The growth of the Alliance filled him with pride.

Yet unlike the others, he could not allow himself to become distracted by the euphoria.

The war was far from over.

There was no doubt in his mind that the Curse Eaters would strike back.

And when they did, they would do so with even greater ferocity than before.

More importantly, Cain had not forgotten another threat lurking within the Nine Empyrean Suns Universe.

The Root.

The destruction of the Worlds of the Root and the death of Robuke had severely weakened them, but they were far from defeated.

The Warlock of the Root remained alive.

The High Lords and Champions of the Root still possessed immense power.

If deployed at the right moment, they could significantly alter the course of a battle.

Yet as dangerous as they were, they also represented an opportunity.

A meaningful light appeared in Cain’s eyes.

"The destruction of the Worlds of the Root and the death of Robuke were not enough to deactivate the spell keeping the Universe Will asleep," he murmured.

"But if I can capture Mikela and send her into the Scarlet Throne, I may gain complete control over her mind and powers."

The possibility was tempting.

Cain had no certainty that it would work.

However, if he could undo the spell through technique rather than brute force, the benefits would be immeasurable.

The sleeping Universe Will remained one of the greatest obstacles facing the Alliance.

If it awakened, the consequences would be devastating for the invaders.

Every Curse Eater would become a target of Divine Tribulations.

Heavenly punishment would descend upon them relentlessly.

Nito and the others would be forced to endure constant assaults from the very universe they were trying to conquer.

Victory would become significantly easier.

"We are moving in the right direction."

Cain nodded to himself.

"There are more and more paths leading toward victory."

His eyes sharpened.

"I just need to keep pushing forward."

With that thought, he returned to the heart of the Ouroboros Stronghold and continued his cultivation, ensuring that he remained at peak condition.

Far from the expanding domain of the stronghold stood the headquarters of the Curse Eaters.

It was an imposing city forged entirely from black obsidian crystal.

Although it did not possess the same overwhelming might as the Ouroboros Stronghold, it was still an extraordinary fortress capable of resisting the Alliance for a long time.

After all, any assault against it would take place under the suppressive influence of the Fallen Empyrean World’s laws.

At the center of the city sat Nito.

The Curse Eater was deep in meditation.

No visible wounds remained on his body.

At first glance, he appeared perfectly healthy.

Yet appearances were deceiving.

The skin around his forehead continuously trembled.

Faint streams of energy leaked from beneath the closed eyelid concealing the Samsara Eye.

His expression twisted from time to time.

Pain.

Agony.

Torment.

The backlash from invoking the Samsara Eye had reached all the way to his Primordial Essence.

Every moment felt as though his soul were being burned alive.

Yet despite the suffering, a faint smile occasionally appeared on his face.

Because while the pain was nearly unbearable...

His body was adapting.

Little by little.

Moment by moment.

The power of the Samsara Eye was becoming less foreign.

Less destructive.