The Epic Tale of Chaos vs Order

Chapter 2184: Learning something new

Cain spent one more peaceful day with his foster father, Lord Kabuto, savoring the rare stillness that lingered between the endless tides of war. The two spoke little—words seemed unnecessary when silence carried more weight. When the time came to part, Cain clasped Kabuto’s hand firmly and bowed with quiet respect before rising once more into the boundless sky.

Kabuto had already been enhanced through Genetic Coding and Tribulation Ascension before the final clash against the Imperium of Time. There was little more Cain could do for him now. It was wiser to wait until his abilities could produce truly meaningful improvements.

The winds of the upper sky shimmered as Cain ascended, crimson light trailing behind him. His next destination lay far to the east, above an endless ocean of silver waves that glowed under the dawn. There, another familiar presence stirred—a man whose aura was sharp as a blade and whose movements carried the stillness of a predator.

It was Angar Aegon, patriarch of the Aegon Family, Cain’s father-in-law, whose daughter lived in a completely different universe.

Angar moved across the surface of the ocean with seamless grace, his body flashing from one position to the next. Each step stirred ripples through the water as he trained, daggers in hand, performing patterns so intricate that even Cain found himself momentarily intrigued.

The air around Angar hummed with controlled energy—dense, focused, and potent. Unlike most of the Scarlet King’s followers, who had chosen to spend these tranquil years in rest and meditation, Angar’s mind and body were utterly immersed in the rhythm of his training.

Cain watched silently for a while, a trace of admiration flickering in his eyes. The sharpness in Angar’s gaze spoke of someone who had long since transcended the boundaries of fatigue or comfort.

Adjusting the flow of his own aura, Cain softened the power of The Flow to ensure the man would not feel oppressed by his presence. Then, like a shadow slipping through sunlight, he descended.

Angar’s instincts reacted instantly. His weapons stilled midair, his eyes narrowing as he turned toward the descending figure. For a brief moment, he was ready to kneel. Regardless of their familial bond, Cain was still the Scarlet King, ruler of worlds, a being who could erase continents with a move.

But then the serene warmth of The Flow brushed against his mind, easing both his spirit and body. The tension drained from his frame. A faint, genuine smile crossed the assassin’s face.

"I am happy to see you, Cain," he said, voice calm but filled with restrained warmth.

Cain returned the smile and clasped his hands respectfully. "As am I, father-in-law."

Angar tilted his head slightly. "How has Beelze been?"

The question came instantly, without hesitation. Cain was not surprised. Though Beelze was not Angar’s daughter by blood or soul, he had raised her as his own, and that bond had never diminished. Even after centuries apart, the Aegon patriarch and his family still held her close in their hearts.

"She’s doing well," Cain replied softly. "Growing stronger by the day. She’s already walking the path toward the Peak ArchDeity Rank."

A bright smile spread across Angar’s face, his eyes alight with pride. "Hahaha! Good—very good."

Then, lifting one of his daggers, he gave Cain an apologetic look. "Do you mind? I was in the middle of a session. If I don’t finish, I’ll feel... unsettled."

"Please," Cain said with a nod. "Go ahead."

He stepped back, folding his hands behind his back as he watched.

Angar resumed his movements, his form blurring with speed and precision. Each step, each twist of his wrist, flowed into the next like a dance of steel and light. His focus was absolute, yet the atmosphere around him was tranquil. Cain could feel it—a paradoxical mixture of sharp intent and serene composure.

"Is this really how you relax?" Cain asked after a moment, curiosity coloring his tone.

Angar smiled faintly, his eyes half-closed as he continued his rhythm. "I’ve done this since I was young," he said. "Some find peace in fishing. Others carve wood, or watch the stars. I train."

He spun once, his daggers tracing silver arcs through the air. "I’m not forcing my limits or seeking a breakthrough. I simply let myself move. I follow the familiar patterns, lose myself in the motion, and become one with it. It’s not about progress—it’s about peace. About polishing the craft because it’s who I am."

He closed his eyes briefly, exhaling as if releasing a lifetime of tension. "In this state, I let go of thought. I don’t focus on the world, the people around me, or even myself. I just move—and that’s enough."

Cain watched silently, and he felt as though he’d learned something new. He too had spent centuries cultivating, yet always with purpose—with the drive to overcome, to conquer, to prepare for the next great battle. But Angar... he trained without desire, without goal. Simply for the act itself.

For a while, neither spoke. The ocean whispered beneath them.

Then, unexpectedly, Cain began to move. His fists traced patterns in the air—measured, deliberate, yet stripped of power. His strikes did not shake the sea, nor bend the sky. Each punch and kick was clean, pure, guided by rhythm rather than might.

At first it felt foreign. Cain was used to feeling everything—the pulse of worlds, the flow of time, the weight of existence itself pressing against him. To block it all out, to empty his mind, felt like suffocating in silence.

But minute by minute, he began to let go. The strain melted. His movements grew lighter. And then, for the first time in countless years, Cain felt something resembling freedom.

He and Angar moved together, their motions intertwining like reflections—daggers and fists cutting arcs through the air, waves rippling beneath their feet. There was no technique, no formality. Just instinct. Just movement.

The sun rose and fell. Days blurred. Neither man spoke. Neither stopped. They danced upon the ocean’s surface—one the embodiment of still precision, the other a living storm tamed into calm rhythm.

Only on the fifth day did they finally stop.

Cain exhaled deeply, his breath rough but steady. Every muscle in his body ached, yet the pain was clean, rejuvenating. A wide smile crossed his face, one of rare and genuine peace.