Review: Chaos Inception – Vengeance Evangel

At the heart of the Cedar Forest, the ogre Huwawa dwelled outside of time. Wreathed in 7 terrible auras, he was invulnerable to harm—until the treachery of Gilgamesh and Enkidu. Entering the realm of the Mesopotamian gods, they tricked him into relinquishing the sources of his immortality; after a brief struggle, Huwawa’s head was severed by Enkidu and placed in a leather bag, later presented to Enlil, chief deity of the Sumerian pantheon. Enraged by this breach of the ogre’s trust, Enlil cast the 7 auras into the human world, seeding danger throughout the land:

He gave Ḫuwawa’s first aura to the fields.
He gave his second aura to the rivers.
He gave his third aura to the reed-beds.
He gave his fourth aura to the lions.
He gave his fifth aura to the palace.
He gave his sixth aura to the forests.
He gave his seventh aura to Nungal.

In February 2025, the archaeologists at Lavadome Productions unearthed a stele depicting an alternate version of this myth. Titled 𒆀𒄀𒋠𒃀𒄀𒀀𒋠𒀠𒄀 𒄀𒆀𒀀𒋠𒃀𒄀𒇠 (roughly translating to Vengeance Evangel), little is known about its origins, other than an engraved signature, reading only 𒀠𒄠𒀀𒀭𒊀 𒁠𒋠𒀠𒄀𒁭𒋀𒁠𒀭 (Chaos Inception).

Terracotta mask of Humbaba from Ur, Iraq. 2004–1595 BCE. Sulaymaniyah Museum, Iraq. Photo courtesy of Osama Shukir Muhammed Amin.

Vengeance Evangel begins in the aftermath of Enlil’s decision to punish mankind; as the “Artillery of Humwawa” falls upon the populace, each pluck of distorted bass, each bass kick, can be felt in our chests. Throughout the album, session drummer Kévin Paradis (Construct of Lethe, ex-Benighted) provides an ever-shifting barrage of death metal blasts that obliterate and fascinate in turn. Like with most genres approaching the “brutal” tag through sheer velocity, there’s a primitive joy in simply being ground to paste by ludicrous tempos; inversely, his nuanced playing rewards close listening through a combination of technicality and creativity. The titular “artillery” take shape as the fills—themselves accelerated blastbeats—that punctuate Gary White’s vocal lines; this push and pull of tempos creates the impression of weapons firing, followed by a brief respite as shells are reloaded into smoking barrels.

Paradis molds Vengeance Evangel into something of a percussive tone poem. Together with his bandmates’ performances, the song titles, and Dávid Glomba’s superb artwork, it’s easy to be swept up in the stories being told; to be transported to realms of nightmare unique to each listener. In the doomy instrumental, “La Niebla en el Cementerio Etrusco,” hi-hat lifts and a severe palm-muted riff recall gates creaking on rusted hinges; stone lids sliding from sarcophagi. Regardless of speed, the pictures being painted remain articulate: triplet kicks conjure an atmosphere of taboo ritual in “10,000 Dead by Pincer;” colossi march to the stately intro of the title track; chaotic fills accompany the collapse of skyscrapers in “The Omegaddon”‘s apocalyptic finale. Each moment of the album’s 40-minute runtime is packed with dynamic drumming that warrants attention, yet never overpowers the compositions.

Along with Paradis’ remarkable control, the immaculate mix and master from Andrea Petucco (Ad Nauseam) ensures each track’s myriad details reach our ears. From the deep floor toms of “Falsificator” and “Reckoning of the Blade” to the album’s organic guitar tones, there is texture to be felt—ridges of personality and imperfection so often sanded down to sterility in modern production. In album highlight “Empire of Prevarication,” a twisting tremolo riff—reminiscent of Nile‘s “Lashed to the Slave Stick”—rattles with string buzz like a serpent’s warning; it’s moments like these that imbue each track with individual flair, lodging them in memory. Matt Barnes’ (Monstrosity, Quinta Essentia) guitar work incorporates a slew of styles and techniques, ranging from the mangrove murk of Floridian death metal to solos influenced by blues (“Thymos Beast”) and power metal (“Reckoning of the Blade”). From the latter track’s dizzying tech death intro to the triumphant, major-key “Ultima Exitium,” Barnes effectively navigates genres and moods without sacrificing cohesion.

White’s vocals are similarly diverse; his cadence and inflection follow the needs of each song and avoid the monotony of one-note death growls. Whether channeling the brutish, blunt delivery of Dallas Toler-Wade or the lilt of barked hardcore, he lends both gravity and a sense of impish playfulness to Vengeance Evangel. A well-timed OUGH or extended guttural is never far away, ready to call attention to the inherent absurdity of harsh vocals while simultaneously ripping the audience to pieces.

The band’s talents culminate in the final track, “Tusk of the Black Sow,” a descent into barbarity that evokes the unraveling of civility in Golding’s Lord of the Flies. Chimes in the song’s ambient intro provide a moment of calm and introspection, but this inner sanctuary cannot last; a writhing, larval form squirms within, bursting unexpectedly through the surface. As dissonant tremolos mimic the buzzing of flies, White’s layered vocals shed all semblance of decorum: screeching, warbling, and straining the bounds of sanity. This combination of dissodeath and doom—akin to Ellorsith—feels genuinely cursed, the audial equivalent of watching a found-footage VHS or reading from a forbidden tome. Lurching tempos capture the scuffle of hooves as the sow is butchered, and what follows is no less than the most heinous riff in recent memory—the death of reason; Beelzebub’s breath.

Belzebuth, or Belzebub, or Beelzebuth, according to the scriptures: the prince of demons, the first in power and crimes after Satan, his name means Lord of Flies, from J.A.S. Collin de Plancy. Dictionnaire Infernal. Paris: E. Plon, 1863.

Supernatural entities exist in fiction and mythology for any number of purposes: to give shape to the unknown; to absorb guilt; to hold a mirror to our darkness. Following 12 years in the void, Chaos Inception have made good use of their demons, bleeding them into the clay tablature of Vengeance Evangel. Horror, indignity, and savagery dwell within, yet the creativity on display stands out in greatest relief. After all, the marriage of concepts old and new—of styles like and disparate—is the bedrock from which lasting legends are carved.

4.5/5 Flaming Toilets ov Hell

Vengeance Evangel is out now through Lavadome Productions.

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