The Epic Tale of Chaos vs Order

Chapter 2605: The end of the Monster of the Root

The moment the Primarch of Conquest vanished inside the body of the Monster of the Root, time itself seemed to halt.

Robuke’s expression froze, his rage interrupted by confusion—then horror—as he felt the foreign presence invade his very being.

Robuke reacted instantly.

The moment the Primarch of Conquest invaded his body, the Monster of the Root attempted to fight back with everything he had. His corrupted essence surged violently, seeking to devour and assimilate the foreign entity that had dared to trespass into his domain. Rot and decay flooded inward, converging on the intruder.

But he was too late.

Before he could even begin to mount a proper defense, the power of the Primarch of Conquest spread through his entire being.

"ZNN!—ZNN!—ZNN!"

The sound of tearing flesh echoed across the void as chains burst outward from within Robuke’s body. They did not simply emerge—they fused into the fabric of space-time itself, anchoring him in place, binding him completely. These were not mere restraints; they were extensions of a higher authority, chains that carried the concept of absolute domination.

Robuke’s eyes widened.

The feral madness that had consumed him moments before faltered, replaced by something far more profound—horror.

And before he could act, before he could even scream, Cain appeared before him.

The Scarlet King’s gaze was utterly cold.

Without hesitation, Cain seized the Monster of the Root’s massive body, lifting it over his head with overwhelming strength. His Stars of Origin ignited, blazing with their final surge of power as the last remnants of world energy poured into his body.

"ARGHHH!"

With a single, wrathful roar, Cain pulled.

The impossible became reality.

Robuke’s body split in two.

The void was drenched in blood as the Monster of the Root was torn apart, his entrails spilling into the emptiness of space. The sight froze the battlefield.

Every faction—whether the abominations of the Root, the Curse Eaters of the Tenth Empyrean World, or the warriors of the Nine Empyrean Suns Alliance—fell into stunned silence.

Robuke, a supreme powerhouse who had stood as an insurmountable wall time and time again... a being who had seemed nearly eternal...

Had been ripped apart.

From the shattered remains, the Primarch of Conquest emerged, its expression one of exhilaration. Chains lashed out once more, piercing both halves of Robuke’s corpse before dragging them inward, compressing, devouring, and absorbing them into the Scarlet Throne.

Robuke was gone.

Not merely slain—but completely assimilated.

His body, energy, soul, and essence had all been consumed.

A surge of power rippled outward.

The Primarch of Conquest flared with renewed strength, and across the battlefield, the warriors of the Alliance felt it—a sudden, overwhelming amplification coursing through their bodies. The Scarlet Throne had grown stronger.

Cain stood at the center of it all, his body drenched in blood and viscera, his presence terrifying beyond measure. Though he had expended tremendous energy in the battle, there was no sign of weakness in his posture. Instead, his eyes burned with an insatiable battle will, like a predator who had just tasted blood and hungered for more.

The abominations of the Root and the Curse Eaters stiffened.

They could feel it.

The enemy that Cain had faced surpassed the Half-Step Fourth Realm—and yet, there was not a single visible wound on his body. If they engaged him now, there was no certainty of survival. Victory was not even a question.

For the first time since the battle began, doubt crept into their ranks.

"Retreat."

The command echoed across the battlefield.

It came from Nito.

The strongest Curse Eater in the Nine Empyrean Suns Universe stared at Cain with a solemn expression. There was no fear in his eyes—but neither was there confidence. He understood the situation clearly. Before making another move, he needed information. He needed preparation.

And most importantly, he needed time.

At once, the Curse Eaters began to withdraw. The abominations of the Root followed suit, their cohesion already fractured by the destruction of the Worlds of the Root. With their foundation gone, Mikela and her forces had no choice but to retreat alongside their allies.

As their enemies pulled back, the killing intent within the warriors of the Nine Empyrean Suns Alliance surged violently. Hatred burned in their hearts. They wanted nothing more than to pursue, to annihilate, to repay every loss and every drop of blood spilled in this war.

But before anyone could act, Cain raised his hand.

No words were spoken.

None were needed.

The command was absolute.

The battlefield fell still.

Though every warrior longed for battle, the authority of the Scarlet King was unquestionable. One by one, they restrained themselves, allowing their enemies to escape.

Cain watched them in silence before a faint smile touched his lips.

It was not mercy that stayed his hand—it was responsibility.

He could feel their condition. Beneath the surge of renewed power and rising morale, their bodies were exhausted, their souls strained to the brink. The thrill of victory had reignited their strength, but it had not erased their fatigue. If they pursued now, many would fall.

And beyond that...

Cain did not yet fully understand the Curse Eaters.

The last one he had faced had nearly killed him through a curse fueled by its own life. He would not underestimate them again.

Finally, Cain exhaled slowly.

This was the first moment of respite he had experienced since emerging from the World Forge—and the fatigue came crashing down on him. His body remained stable, but his mind had been pushed far beyond its limits in the battle against Robuke.

After a few seconds, he moved.

In a flash, Cain crossed the battlefield, appearing before the Alliance’s army. His gaze immediately found Meylin.

Then it shifted.

To his sons, Magnus and Rylanor.

To his comrades.

To every warrior who had fought and bled for this universe.

There were countless things he wished to say.

But not yet.

Those moments could wait.

His expression hardened as his eyes turned, locking onto a single figure in the distance.

The Crimson Exarch.