The Epic Tale of Chaos vs Order

Chapter 2067: Alpha-Omega Overgod Tier Innate Ability

For five and a half months, Cain and Meylin hunted without rest. From one prey to the next, they stalked the Second Realm like shadows, consuming souls, sealing bodies, and breaking True Names within the Scarlet Throne. Their methods were merciless, their movements flawless—always erasing every trace of their existence once the fight ended.

By the time the gates of the Throne closed behind the corpse of yet another ArchDeity—one who embodied both flames and stone—the Neo-Demon and True Depravita collapsed upon the ruined battlefield.

Their bodies were broken. Limbs were missing, skin burned, and energy reserves bled dry. Yet wide, savage smiles split their faces. They had triumphed against one of the strongest Late Archdeities in the Second Realm. It had cost them everything they had in that fight, but victory was all that mattered.

The Throne’s vitality flooded back into Cain, restoring shredded flesh and filling his veins with stolen power. Alongside the healing came something more—an Innate Ability, stripped from the fallen ArchDeity, broken down and converted into raw essence. As he had done fourteen times before, Cain fed this origin power into Reaper Touch, his chosen weapon among his many Innate Abilities.

And then—change.

Inside the abyss of his Astral Black Hole, the metaphysical manifestation of Reaper Touch began to tremble. Its form warped, its energy swelling as though too vast to be contained. Waves of destructive essence bled outward from Cain’s body, corroding the world around him. Soil crumbled into sand before disintegrating into dust. Air warped, light dimmed, and even space-time itself seemed to wither under the rising tide of death.

The energy surged higher, building toward a crescendo. At its climax, the phantom of Reaper Touch transformed into a hooded figure draped in darkness, clutching a scythe forged of pure annihilation. The instant after, a pillar of death force erupted from Cain, so colossal it seemed to pierce the heavens.

It did not last long.

The pillar collapsed inward, all its devastation condensed into Cain’s hands. A dark luster coated his fingers, and even the slightest movement fractured the fabric of reality itself. Cain clenched his fists, exhaling a trembling breath.

A laugh escaped him—half savage, half exultant. After months of sacrifices and endless slaughter, Reaper Touch had finally evolved. No longer was it merely a weapon of destruction. It had ascended into the realm of Alpha-Omega Overgod Tier Innate Abilities, a force capable of killing even the most supreme existences.

Cain’s eyes glowed like supernovas as he deactivated the ability and turned to Meylin. She met his gaze and nodded, her expression firm, her aura brimming with silent resolve.

Now, with his killing power sharpened to its peak, Cain finally had the confidence to face his ultimate target.

They did not rush. Both devoted the rest of the day to healing, meditating, and refining their energy. When their bodies and souls were once again at their peak, the duo rose into the sky, scarlet flames in their wake, and vanished toward destiny.

In the Second Realm, battlefields had become commonplace. The endless clashes between the Life Path and the Freedom Path had scarred the land beyond recognition. Mountains were flattened, rivers dyed red, skies blackened with ash.

Normally, corpses left behind were burned or destroyed to prevent corruption. The residual energy radiating from dead ArchDeities could twist the land into abominations if left unchecked. Yet battles were sometimes so fierce and bloody that neither side had the strength to clean up the aftermath.

The result: sprawling graveyards where countless corpses lay piled together, entire landscapes turned into charnel pits. To most, these places were dangerous. To others—they were paradises.

In one such graveyard, where even ArchDeities had fallen, a silver-haired woman moved among the dead.

She was breathtaking in her terror. Silver strands cascaded like moonlight, her violet eyes glowing with an otherworldly fire that pierced all it gazed upon. She wore a sleek, form-fitting black attire, elegant yet edged with menace. Shadows rippled around her body like living smoke, as though reality itself recoiled from her presence.

Wherever she stepped, psychic energy and soul force coalesced. From the corpses around her, skeletal wraiths rose, hollow-eyed, burning with violet flames. They writhed and leered, shackled to her will, dancing in torment like puppets strung by invisible wires.

The woman moved with casual cruelty, her gaze sweeping the corpses as though choosing delicacies from a candy store. With a flick of her fingers, the strongest among the dead were wrenched into the air.

Of course, she was no other than Catherine, the Giant Slayer. The Puppetmaster of ArchDeities.

Her violet eyes flared. At her command, the bodies twisted grotesquely. Muscles unraveled into fibers, bones shattered into shards, organs and sinew warped into unnatural threads. All these fragments swirled together into a storm of gore and bone.

Without hesitation, Catherine began to knit them together. Piece by piece, the storm coalesced into a monstrosity that towered over the graveyard.

The abomination’s form coiled like a colossal centipede, its body armored in jagged plates of bone, every segment lined with dozens of writhing limbs tipped in razored claws. It was vast, terrible, and wrong—an abomination born of countless corpses fused into one.

And yet, it was mindless. A hollow weapon, powerful but without will.

Catherine’s smile widened. She was not finished.

With a single glance, the violet wraiths surrounding her lunged into the monstrosity’s body. One after another, they merged with the abomination, twisting its hollow shell into something more. A psychic core ignited. Its hollow sockets lit with flames. The fusion birthed consciousness, a cruel mockery of life.

By the time the process ended, the monster’s aura radiated at the level of an ArchDeity.

Catherine’s smile turned radiant, almost euphoric.

The war, which brought devastation to all others, was a blessing to her. Before the Life–Freedom conflict, corpses of ArchDeity-tier beings were rare, nearly impossible to acquire. But now—now they littered the earth. And with them, her path of cultivation blossomed without restraint. She had never been freer, never been stronger.

She spread her arms to welcome her creation. A weapon, a servant, another step toward her supremacy.

But before she could revel in triumph—her eyes narrowed.

The earth trembled. Her instincts screamed.

And then, from the ground at her feet, a hand erupted.

It was not flesh, nor bone, but a thing of pure death and annihilation. Its surface gleamed with a dark luster, and the air around it fractured like shattered glass. Reality itself seemed to recoil from its touch.

The hand shot upward, impossibly fast, aiming directly for her throat.