C#3: Prologue-III — The Price of Defiance
The war did not end with the miracle.
It only changed.
---
With hope reborn, humanity fought like never before.
Blessed by the guardians, warriors charged back into the battlefield with burning resolve. Blades glowed with divine light. Broken bodies moved again. Fear was pushed aside—not erased, but ignored.
They fought for the future.
Above them, the guardians stood as pillars of the world itself.
The Phoenix scorched the skies.
The White Tiger tore through fleeing demons.
The Black Tortoise held the line, unyielding.
And at the center of it all—
The Guardian Pegasus soared.
Its presence crushed despair wherever it passed, driving the demon army back step by step.
---
Far from the chaos of the main battlefield…
Two existences clashed beyond reason.
---
The sky itself was torn apart as the Golden Dragon and the Ancient Demon King collided.
No demon dared approach.
No guardian interfered.
The space around them shattered and healed endlessly, unable to withstand their power.
Flames and abyssal darkness twisted together, forming storms that erased anything too close.
The Demon King laughed as black energy surged around him, veins pulsing with power stolen from the Abyssal Leviathan.
"So this is your final stand?" the Demon King sneered.
"This world will fall. My lord, the Leviathan, will rule all primordial chaos. Every realm. Every existence."
The Golden Dragon's eyes burned brighter.
"You talk too much for someone borrowing power," the Dragon replied coldly.
"You will never conquer this world."
The Demon King's smile twisted.
"Arrogant beast. When the Leviathan awakens fully, even you—"
"You misunderstand," the Dragon interrupted.
"You are already losing."
---
The arrival of the Guardian Pegasus changed everything.
With the demon army collapsing below, the Golden Dragon finally gained room to breathe—room to focus.
No more distractions.
No more restraint.
Golden flames erupted, pushing the Demon King back for the first time since the battle began.
---
Below, humanity fought like cornered beasts.
Champions blessed by the guardians carved paths through demon ranks.
Men and women stood side by side, wounded but unbroken.
Demons began to fall faster than they could advance.
Some fled.
Others fought to the bitter end.
The war was turning.
---
The Demon King noticed.
His gaze flicked across the battlefield.
Too many losses.
Too little time.
If this continued…
I will lose.
For the first time in ages, doubt crept into his thoughts.
Retreat. Regroup. Return stronger.
The Demon Realm would wait.
---
Then—
Pain.
Not physical.
Something deeper.
As if a massive hand crushed his soul.
The Demon King screamed, dropping to one knee midair.
A voice echoed inside his mind.
Deep.
Ancient.
Endless.
"How dare you."
The Abyssal Leviathan.
"You think of retreat?"
"You think of survival?"
The Demon King trembled.
"L-Lord…!" he gasped.
"You exist to conquer."
"To devour."
"To obey."
The pressure intensified.
"Or are you ready to pay the price for this hesitation?"
---
The Demon King clenched his fists.
Blood—black and burning—dripped from his mouth.
There was no escape.
No retreat.
Only one path remained.
"…Very well," he whispered.
"I will decide."
Dark energy surged violently around him.
The Golden Dragon sensed it instantly—and narrowed its eyes.
"What are you planning?" the Dragon demanded.
The Demon King looked up, smiling through agony.
"A decision," he replied.
"One that even gods will regret."
The sky darkened.
And the world held its breath.