The Epic Tale of Chaos vs Order

Chapter 2262: Warmaster of the Nine Empyrean Suns Universe Alliance (II)

"You are truly willing to share this kind of power?" This time it was Amara who spoke. Her eyes glowed with a skeptical, almost disbelieving light.

Cain had given them no reason to doubt him, but she simply could not fathom someone willingly sharing the power of the Runic War Avatars. A larger, coordinated force of them could change the balance of an Empyrean World. With enough Avatars, the only path forward for anyone caught unprepared would be retreat.

No one admitted it, but every super-powerhouse present subtly raised their guard toward the others. For now, they were united against The Root, their alliance held together by necessity and fear. But once that enemy fell, their reason to stand together would fade.

Now that each ruler had witnessed the power of the others, and had learn the aura and location of their worlds, no one could predict what the future would bring.

Cain only smiled as their unease thickened.

"The power of the Runic War Avatars will make you all stronger. That much is true. However, I am not worried." His tone was calm, almost casual. "I am in constant evolution, and so are my people. What could become a threat today will not remain one next year."

Silence settled across the chamber. His logic, delivered with the quiet confidence of inevitability, was difficult to refute. The Scarlet King did not fear them turning this weapon against him once the Root was defeated because, by the time such a betrayal became possible, his strength would have grown far beyond the reach of any Runic War Avatar.

After a long moment, one of the figures stepped forward and gave a solemn nod.

"I accept your leadership. My forces will follow your command against The Root." The speaker was Uriel, the towering representative of the Legio Eldrich race. His eyes carried a depth that seemed carved directly from the soul.

Through Resonance, Cain glimpsed the sincerity burning behind those eyes, and a wide smile answered it.

A moment later, Arkam stepped forward as well. "You are the most capable among us, and the one with whom our chances of success stand highest. My people and I will follow you."

With those two accepting, the rest had little room to maneuver. One by one, the remaining super-powerhouses bowed their heads, giving their formal acknowledgment and sealing their alliance.

Cain extended his senses through The Flow, confirming each declaration.

A faint nod followed. "Not all are pleased, but all intend to keep their word. That is enough."

And with that, Cain rose as Warmaster of the Nine Empyrean Suns Alliance.

"One goal completed," he said softly. "But now the real work begins."

Gaining command of the Six Empyrean Worlds’ forces was a tremendous achievement, yet it was only the battlefield’s foundation. An army was not automatically a weapon; it still needed sharpening.

Cain lifted his hand. Threads of psychic light flowed from his fingertips, splitting into six shimmering drops that drifted toward the super-powerhouses.

"Within each seed," he said, "you will find the knowledge needed to forge Runic War Avatars, the runes, the engraving sequences, and the control protocols. One of my generals is an Archdeity-rank Runic Master, highly proficient in Ars Goetia and the Runic War Avatars. He will assist you so your forces can advance quickly."

As they absorbed the psychic seeds, their expressions sharpened with solemn understanding.

"It is important that your armies hear this news from you directly," he continued. "And each of you must instruct your ArchDeities to come to me. I will perform a 40 Revolutions Refinement on their bodies."

A ripple of surprise passed over the group—followed by dawning excitement. But then their eyes narrowed. They all understood the risks. Tribulation Enhancement, especially at that level, was incredibly potent and equally dangerous. A single misstep could cripple even a high-rank ArchDeity permanently.

Cain cut off their unspoken doubts with a single wave. "I can perform Forty-Revolution Refinement with a one-hundred percent success rate."

To emphasize the point, he ignited a flame in his palm—an impossible blaze shimmering with forty-one distinct colors, each representing a completed revolution of Tribulation mastery. The radiance spilling from it was enough to make even these ancient powerhouses inhale sharply.

"Every warrior entering the coming battle must be at their peak," Cain said. "Even a one-percent difference in power could decide life or death—especially when that difference applies to every single fighter."

Arkam and the others nodded gravely. With no more questions left and no doubts worth voicing, they rose. Each bowed to the Scarlet King—not as a courtesy, but as acknowledgment of true authority—and departed to prepare their people, spread the news, and begin the first steps toward forging Avatar legions.

When they were gone, only Cain and Anark remained. A solemn shadow passed across the True Primordial of the Void.

"How confident are you," Anark asked quietly, "that you will survive?"

Cain stared at him for a long moment, then exhaled slowly.

"Frankly? Not very confident." He did not bother to hide the truth. "I will throw everything I have into destroying the severed head. But I cannot say whether I will make it out. Worst-case scenario, I abandon my body and escape into the Crimson World through my True Name."

He had shown nothing but certainty before Arkam and the others. But the reality was unforgiving. The Heart of the Root was a nightmare. There was a real chance his Primordial Body would simply never emerge.

"And you?" Cain asked. "Your life will be in danger as well."

Anark’s gaze hardened instantly. His role in the coming battle was singular and brutal: he would face Radagon, King of The Root. Victory was not required. Survival was optional. His task was only to hold Radagon back long enough for Cain to destroy the severed head—but even that was a feat bordering on madness.

"I will keep him back," Anark said. "Until you destroy that head."

No oaths followed. No dramatic declarations. No promises of triumph.

But Cain knew that Anark would not fail.