Meylin and the Enlightened One instinctively turned their gazes toward Cain the moment the distant explosion tore across the horizon. Even from such an impossible distance, the violent surge of power was unmistakable, reverberating through space like a hammer striking the bones of the world itself.

The power behind that blast reminded the duo of the attack that Cain's used to defeat Urin, but they hoped to be wrong.

Cain's expression darkened as he felt the residual shock ripple through the fabric of reality. His bright scarlet eyes narrowed, reflecting calculations that unfolded in less than a heartbeat.

"You are not wrong," he said solemnly, answering the question they had not yet spoken. "That power almost matches Ragnarok."

Both Meylin and the Enlightened One stiffened. The words carried a weight far heavier than their simplicity suggested. Ragnarok was not merely a Chaos Art—it was a boundary-breaking force that Cain could only unleash at tremendous cost. For an explosion born of a clash, rather than a single focused technique, to reach such a level meant only one thing.

Whoever was fighting in the distance had almost certainly surpassed the Early Alpha-Omega Overgod Stage.

At higher ranks, distinctions between stages were no longer incremental. They were exponential. A gap between Early and Middle Alpha-Omega Overgod was not something that could be bridged with talent or effort alone—it was a chasm that devoured the careless.

Cain understood this better than anyone.

After his battle with Bradly, his battle strength had firmly entered the Alpha-Omega Overgod Rank, but only at its very bottom. Since then, he had advanced tremendously: evolving his Divine Kingdom, sealing a new Astral Black Hole, mastering deeper layers of Chaos, and stabilizing his soul force. Even so, when measured objectively, his raw power still rested at the absolute peak of the Early Stage—no further.

Only through Chaos Arts, techniques that invited catastrophic backlash, could he temporarily pierce that boundary.

Meylin and the Enlightened One both understood this reality, and the tension in their expressions reflected it clearly. If they faced a Middle-Stage Alpha-Omega Overgod head-on, survival would be uncertain at best.

After a moment of silence, both turned toward Cain, waiting.

The decision could only be his. After all, if calamity arose, it would be Cain's power that they would need to rely on.

Cain did not rush. They were still fatigued from crossing the Realm Barrier, and recklessness here could end their journey before it truly began. Retreat was not cowardice—it was calculation. Cain had responsibilities beyond this battlefield. The Root continued to grow. His path demanded survival above all else.

And yet…

Cain's gaze sharpened as his perception expanded across the distant battlefield. Whatever was happening there was no ordinary clash. Forces of this magnitude did not collide in isolation. The outcome would almost certainly reshape the balance of power in the Fourth Realm—and by extension, affect every realm beneath it.

If champions of the Demon King were in danger, and Cain turned away, the consequences could haunt him later.

He exhaled slowly.

"Let's go," he said at last. "Stay behind me."

Meylin and the Enlightened One concealed their auras and followed after Cain, using the Flow to ensure no one could detect them.

Cain went one step ahead. Using a fusion of the Power of Chaos and the Flow, he concealed their auras to near nothingness. The trio moved like phantoms across the fractured land, their presence slipping between the seams of reality. After nearly thirty minutes of silent travel, the battlefield finally came into view.

It was devastation incarnate.

Dozens of ArchDeities clashed across a shattered continent, their powers tearing gouges into the land below. Mountains lay split open, rivers vaporized, and the air itself screamed under the strain of constant annihilation. Blood rained from the sky like crimson ash.

And yet, all of it paled before the conflict raging in the highest sky.

Two figures battled there—each no more than seven meters tall—yet their presence made them feel like singularities given form. Their crashed gave color to the black and white realm.

One was a colossal armored titan, standing immovable amidst the storm. His ornate plate armor was etched with ancient symbols worn smooth by unfathomable ages. A dark, circular halo loomed behind his head, radiating gravity, inevitability, and crushing mass. Heavy black cloaks draped from his shoulders like slabs of stone, emphasizing stillness over motion. Cold blue light pulsed through the seams of his armor, as if compressed energy strained to escape an impossible prison.

The other was no less terrifying.

A skeletal-faced armored colossus rode upon a massive black warhorse. His armor was jagged and organic, crowned with horned crests and veins of glowing violet energy that pulsed through his chest and limbs. The warhorse mirrored its master's power, its eyes blazing with the same otherworldly glow. Dark ribbons of energy streamed behind them with every movement, embodying unstoppable momentum and relentless advance.

The forces of a Neo-Angel's Salvation Incarnation and a True Depravita's Redemption Incarnation were already laid bare, not that they were needed to learn who was their ally. After all, they came here for someone named Skull Lord.

Cain's focus sharpened as he studied the duel. The Neo-Angel's sword moved with astronomical mass, bending time, space, and causality along its edge. The blade did not move quickly—rather, reality slowed in submission around it, granting each swing catastrophic inevitability.

Yet Skull Lord was no less overwhelming.

Mounted upon his warhorse, the True Depravita unleashed a momentum that stacked endlessly, ignoring friction, resistance, distance, and scale. Each strike accelerated the next, forming an unbroken chain of force capable of piercing worlds. His attacks did not simply collide—they crushed, erased, and advanced.

Every clash between them detonated with apocalyptic force, shattering the sky and sending shockwaves across continents.

Cain analyzed everything—the rhythm, the flow of power, the strain hidden beneath perfection.

And then—

His bright scarlet eyes narrowed.

Something was wrong.

Not with the strength of the combatants—but with the battlefield itself.

Space fluctuated ever so slightly, distorted by an external influence. It was subtle. Almost imperceptible.

But Cain saw it.

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