The Epic Tale of Chaos vs Order

Chapter 2078: The fourth Supreme Race (I)

Urin’s eyes widened as she looked down at her right arm.

Static energy danced across her skin like living lightning. Her hand twitched once, then went completely still. She tried to move it, to call upon the cosmic essence within her veins, but her power no longer answered. The arm hung limply at her side, dead weight.

The sensation was worse than pain.

It was absence.

It wasn’t numbness like the shadows Zarazel had inflicted before. Her arm was gone—not physically, but in every other way. Her energy couldn’t reach it, her soul couldn’t sense it. Something had severed the connection between her will and her flesh.

It was as though that part of her had been stolen.

And perhaps, it had.

Even facing such horror, Urin’s gaze did not waver. Her eyes sharpened, focusing on her opponent. The pain was meaningless now; only understanding mattered. Her mind raced, piecing together what had just happened.

"Your strikes," she said slowly, her voice low but steady. "They steal something from your opponent."

Zarazel’s eyes narrowed.

For the briefest instant, his fists tightened. He had expected shock—fear, panic, or confusion—but the woman before him showed none of it. Instead, she had already deduced the essence of his power after only a handful of exchanges.

A small nod of respect escaped him. "You are an impressive opponent."

The words were not mockery.

He took a slow, deliberate breath, his voice deep and steady, resonating through the charged air.

"Fear doesn’t only paralyze the mind," Zarazel said. "It takes. It steals. Your sanity, your focus... and sometimes, even the control of your body."

It was a grim acknowledgment, not a boast—a brief offering of truth from one warrior to another. Yet that moment of respect didn’t dull his killing intent in the slightest.

Before the echo of his words faded, Zarazel vanished.

Urin barely had time to pull back before he was upon her again.

He reappeared before her in a blink, faster than her eyes could follow, his fist already cutting through the air. She twisted, dodging as best she could, but he was simply too fast.

That blow—aimed at her head—made her instincts scream. If he could steal the connection to her arm, what would he take if he reached her head? Her soul? Her consciousness? Her very existence?

There was only one choice.

She raised her right arm and blocked.

The impact detonated like thunder. The bones in her arm trembled violently, her flesh blackening from the surge of energy. She felt it again—the invisible current of Zarazel’s fear—slipping into her body, infecting the limb.

Before she could recover, Zarazel’s shadow fell upon her once more.

But this time, she was ready.

Her left leg snapped out like a whip, her heel connecting with the side of his masked face. The strike carried an explosive wave of energy, bursting in a flash of crimson light.

The shockwave rippled across the battlefield.

And yet—when the light cleared—Zarazel stood unflinching. The bone mask covering his face had absorbed the force completely, leaving not even a crack. The same blast that could level mountains hadn’t even scuffed his armor.

Urin understood too late that the strongest part of a True Depravita during Redemption Incarnation was the head.

Zarazel countered instantly. His fist came down in a decisive arc, slamming into Urin’s shoulder. The blow sent her body spiraling through the air, carving through the clouds.

Then came another strike.

And another.

One strike after another followed, relentless, merciless. Urin’s defenses faltered; blood traced a crimson arc from her lips. The sheer power behind each attack rattled her core, damaging her from within. She could feel her organs protesting, her heartbeat staggering under the strain. Each second dragged her closer to the brink — not just of defeat, but of death.

Her mind screamed to keep moving, to fight, but her right arm refused to obey. As Zarazel drew back his fist for another devastating strike, she realized the truth — her arm no longer belonged to her.

It hung dead at her side.

Then came the blow.

A detonation cracked through the sky like the birth of a star. Zarazel’s fist smashed directly into her chest. Her ribs splintered under the impact; blood burst from her mouth as her body was flung downward — a comet of agony falling toward the black ocean below.

The world blurred. The sea of death rushed up to meet her, dark and infinite.

If she struck it in this state, she might never rise again. But Urin was not ready to die.

Her mind, sharp even through pain, seized on the smallest flicker of power that still obeyed her. She twisted mid-fall, forcing her body to spin. Her left leg extended — a desperate, perfect motion — and when her foot met the surface of the ocean, the contact triggered an explosion of divine energy.

"BOOOOM!"

Waves of darkness shattered beneath her as she used the recoil to launch herself back into the sky.

When she emerged from the storm of smoke and mist, her body was trembling, blood dripping from her mouth, but her gaze — her gaze was steel. She stood suspended in the firmament, her aura flickering but unbroken.

Those who watched the battle from afar could see it clearly: she was wounded, badly. Her once-radiant presence now burned unevenly, dimmed but defiant. Where once she and Zarazel had stood as equals, now the balance had shifted. The True Depravita’s transformation had tilted the battlefield entirely in his favor.

Cain, watching from a distant ridge of shattered stone, exhaled softly. Even through the chaos, admiration touched his eyes.

"The people chosen by the Ancient One..." he murmured, almost reverently. "Truly impressive."

Even as an enemy, he could not deny her resolve.

Nor could Zarazel.

The True Depravita paused midair, his aura coiling around him like a living storm. His chest rose and fell with controlled rhythm, and then he clenched his fists once more. The space around him distorted, light bending beneath the gravity of his power.

"You are brave," he said. "Your willpower surpasses any I have faced. But will cannot overturn reality."

His voice deepened, carrying the echo of aeons.

"There is a reason why the True Depravita, the Neo-Demons, and the Primordials are known as the Supreme Races. When we face others on equal ground, we always stand above. We are the favored sons of the universe — our essence woven into the fabric of creation itself since the dawn of time."