The Epic Tale of Chaos vs Order

Chapter 2302: Master of his destiny

Cain’s eyes glowed with brilliant scarlet light as he focused on the Three Moons. The Flow and the Power of Chaos rippled through his perception, allowing him to sense their strength clearly. Individually, each presence was overwhelming. Together, as their auras fused into a single, harmonious pressure, there was no doubt left in his mind—they were Alpha-Omega Overgod entities.

Yet that was not what made his expression sharpen.

There was something else beneath their power, something far more fundamental. A frequency he had felt before, twice in his long journey. They took the form of an old man and a young child with red eyes, and they were good friends and allies.

Cain’s gaze hardened.

"You are not people," he said calmly. "You are a World Will."

For the first time since their appearance, the Three Moons reacted.

Sharpness flickered across their three faces, followed by slow, knowing smiles.

"As expected of the Prophesied Hero," the Past spoke, her voice heavy with ancient resonance. "Your eyes can perceive the true nature of our existence."

The Present followed smoothly, her tone steady and measured. "Yet you see only part of the truth. We are not a World Will—not entirely."

The Future spoke last, her voice distant and cold. "We are fragments. Shards of the will of the Crimson World, broken during the Great War."

Cain did not interrupt.

"We drifted through the realms for countless eons," the Past continued, "until we gained form and awareness."

"We became something new," said the Present. "A will given flesh."

"And yet," the Future concluded, "our purpose remains unchanged. To protect the Crimson World lies at the core of our existence."

Cain frowned slightly as he studied them. "You are more forthcoming than I expected."

"We give answers because you came seeking them," the Past replied.

"And because this path yields the most favorable outcome," added the Present.

Cain and Meylin exchanged a brief glance. The Three Moons’ openness did not bring comfort. If anything, it deepened the unease settling in the chest of the Neo-Demon and the True Depravita.

Meylin inhaled slowly, steadying herself before stepping forward. Her voice was calm, but solemn, as she asked a question hidden deep within her heart.

"Then tell me," she said. "Why did you send me to the Nine Empyrean Suns Universe’s World Forge?"

The Past answered without hesitation. "The prophecy demanded a warrior who crossed worlds—one who could avert the calamity destined to consume the Crimson World."

"So we attempted to create one," the Present said.

"You perished too early," the Future continued. "A failure, by our calculations."

Meylin’s fingers curled slightly, but she did not interrupt.

"Yet in your failure," the Past resumed, "you opened an unforeseen path."

"You connected with one who could break the barrier and enter the Crimson World," said the Present.

"A deviation that surpassed our expectations," finished the Future.

Meylin felt anger stir, as they spoke of her as if she were some tool, but soon that rage faded, and relief arose.

A small, peaceful smile appeared on her face.

For a fleeting moment, she had feared that her bond with Cain had been manufactured, engineered by unseen hands. But now she understood. The Three Moons had not created that connection. It was a secondary effect from a plan they considered a failure.

Their meeting was destiny, not manipulation.

Cain noticed the calm in Meylin’s eyes and returned her smile briefly. Then his expression sharpened as he turned back to the Three Moons.

"And once I arrived," he said evenly, "you interfered with my destiny."

The Past answered first. "We cannot alter free will."

"Your choices are your own," the Present affirmed.

"But we can adjust probability," the Future added. "We can guide events to increase the likelihood of prophecy fulfillment."

"So you ensured that she heard the false prophecy," Cain said coldly. "That I will perish during the Demon King’s Castle saga."

"That intervention increased the probability of your alliance," the Present replied.

"And thus the chances of the Demon King’s liberation," the Future concluded.

The logic was sound.

That was the problem.

Cain’s jaw tightened.

"Then what about the prophecy regarding my conflict with the Ancient One?"

The Three Moons did not hesitate.

"You must face the Ancient One," the Past said.

"If he perceives you as a threat," the Present continued, "the probability of that prophecy manifesting increases."

The words landed like a blade.

A flicker of killing intent flashed through Cain’s eyes.

The Three Moons were indifferent to his reaction. They did not concern themselves with his emotions, only outcomes. To them, Cain was not a person—he was a variable.

A necessary piece.

If prophecy demanded his death to save the Crimson World, they would move the heavens themselves to make it happen. His life, his will, his desires—all were secondary to their idealized future.

Cold anger welled within him.

For a heartbeat, Chaos stirred as the idea of ending the trio here and now crossed his mind, but soon it was suppressed.

Cain exhaled.

He forced the killing intent down, locking it behind iron discipline. He had given his word. He would not strike them—not now.

But something fundamental had changed.

He would never trust them.

"Let’s go," Cain said quietly.

Meylin nodded at once.

There was nothing more to gain here.

They turned to leave.

Before they could cross the threshold, the Three Moons raised their hands. A parchment formed in the air, ancient and heavy with power, drifting toward Cain.

"This will be of great help in your—"

Cain waved his hand.

The parchment was pushed aside, tumbling harmlessly into the shadows.

He did not look back.

Even if it contained a supreme technique or forbidden truth, he would not accept it. Not from beings who believed they could shepherd him like prey through a maze.

This was not pride.

It was conviction.

Cain was no tool of prophecy.

He was no sacrifice to a greater design.

He was the master of his destiny—and no one, not even the will of the world itself, would take that from him.