The Epic Tale of Chaos vs Order - Chapter 1691

Chapter 1691: Jarkal
There was a massive tree that grew upon the summit of a volcano—an ancient, living monolith whose roots delved deep into the magma below, feeding on the molten fury of the earth’s heart. From its core, waves of volatile energy pulsed outward in all directions, saturating the land with heat and divine power.

This was no ordinary tree. It was colossal beyond measure, so vast that it served as a living city. Entire civilizations thrived within its enormous trunk and branches, with millions of inhabitants calling its hollowed roots and bark-covered towers home. At the very heart of this tree—deep within a chamber carved from obsidian bark and glowing with molten veins—sat a figure who looked less like a man and more like a monument to wrath and primordial destruction.

His name was Jarkal.

He was an entity carved from fury, forged from flame, and bound together by divine will. His body was composed of jagged, obsidian-like bark fused with glowing magma. Lava-like veins pulsed across his skin, radiating both scalding heat and an overwhelming aura of raw divine energy.

Embedded in his chest was a blazing core—a heart of pure flame that burned with the intensity of a dying star. From his head rose antler-like branches of shadowed flame, twisting upward like smoke into the sky.

Embers drifted from them, shimmering like fireflies in the air. His face was featureless, shrouded in darkness, save for four crimson eyes that blazed like burning coals—eyes that held ancient wisdom, but also unrelenting rage.

Around him, shadows and inferno swirled in perfect harmony. Though his form was alien, monstrous even, the presence of a Godslayer Humankind radiated unmistakably from him.

Jarkal was the sole ruler of the Volcano Tree, a Lord-Tier Organization with dominion over vast lands. Though his faction boasted only one Prima Deity—himself—none dared challenge his authority. His madness in battle was matched only by his power. As a Late Stage Prima Deity, he held absolute mastery over the Laws of Fire and Shadow, shaping both with terrifying ease.

Jarkal was in the middle of intense meditation and internal training when he suddenly frowned. His eyes snapped open as he noticed a subtle glow emanating from the ring on his hand. A single thought allowed him to hear the voice of his commander, informing him that the forces of the Divine Calamity Heaven had made their move. He was to head to the battlefield at once.

Jarkal’s expression darkened.

To be honest, he didn’t care who controlled the continent—whether it was Divine Calamity Heaven or Divine Sea Heaven made no difference to him. His concerns were not about politics or conquest. But regardless of his personal indifference, there was one truth he couldn’t escape: if he disobeyed the orders of Deus Behemoth, the Divine Sea would end his existence without hesitation.

“Ahhh…”

With a heavy sigh that sent a wave of molten steam through the chamber, Jarkal rose from his meditative stance and shot upward, blazing out of the magma-infused tree and into the sky.

But just as he left the towering inferno behind, a sharp light flickered in his eyes. His instincts screamed. Without hesitation, he spun mid-air and raised his hand.

Instantly, dozens of monstrous, flame-shadow creatures resembling molten shields materialized before him, placing themselves between Jarkal and the descending halberd.

The impact shook the sky. Even with Jarkal’s incredible speed and magical defense, the force of Cain’s blow sent shockwaves rippling across the sky. The halberd blazed with fire as it clashed against the summoned guardians.

Cain’s eyes widened slightly in admiration. Jarkal had reacted with uncanny speed, and his mastery over defensive magic was genuinely impressive.

But Cain wasn’t finished.

The next instant, a wide, predatory smile stretched across his face.

Jarkal’s instincts howled again, but it was too late. Beneath him, a massive magic formation had already appeared. Intricate lines of power ignited across the terrain, woven from the Laws of Space-Time and Earth, and infused with overwhelming Gravitational Star Power.

The entire world trembled.

The formation activated, gripping everything above it—including Cain and Jarkal—and dragged them downward. The gravitational force was crushing, the space around them folding and compounding, as the two Prima Deities were driven thousands of kilometers into the depths of the earth. The ground closed above them as if nothing had happened.

Jarkal’s body screamed in protest as the gravitational pressures wreaked havoc on his internal structure. Blood boiled within him. Bones groaned under the sudden compression. He tried to stabilize his energy, but Cain had already recovered—his Shooting Star Dragon Halberd gleaming with fresh fury as he launched forward for another strike.

Swallowing the blood rising in his throat, Jarkal summoned the full might of his Inner Universe.

“Ashfield Construct Legion!”

With a roar, he unleashed dozens of semi-autonomous flame-shadow constructs—soldiers forged of lava, darkness, and sheer will. They lunged at Cain with suicidal determination, seeking to delay him, to give Jarkal time to regain balance.

Cain’s eyes narrowed. The constructs radiated formidable power—proof that Jarkal was indeed no ordinary opponent.

“They’ll stop me from reaching him,” Cain thought grimly.

But then, his right eye glowed with radiant power.

With a single, focused gaze, he made direct eye contact with Jarkal.

Jarkal, who had just begun stabilizing his energy, felt something pierce into his mind—cold and sharp, like a dagger of thought. Reality shattered around him.

The underground cave disappeared.

Suddenly, he stood in a pitch-black realm beneath a cold, dead moon. There was no explanation, no warning—just pain.

Massive hooks emerged from the void, glistening with malevolence. They struck without mercy—piercing his skin, gouging out his eyes, tearing through his jaw to silence any scream. And then, in a horrifying instant, they were pulled in opposite directions, dismembering him completely.

The agony was beyond anything he’d imagined. But just as quickly, he was whole again, still in that dark world, under the same moon—and now there were ten of him.

Ten reflections. Ten Jarkals. All trapped. All doomed.

He realized immediately that it was an illusion—but that knowledge offered no comfort. The pain remained. The fear. The confusion. The helplessness.