The moment King Rega's features twisted into a demonic visage, a roar tearing from his throat, the ornate throne room became a battleground. Guards, their faces masks of sheer terror, scattered like startled pigeons, tripping over their own feet in a desperate scramble for the relative safety of the shadowed corners.
The demon king, now a hulking brute with leathery wings that beat the air with a violent gust, lunged towards Rega, his clawed hand a blur of motion capable of tearing through steel. But Rega, his movements honed by years of clandestine training in the palace underbelly, reacted with surprising speed. He sidestepped the attack, the monstrous hand whistling past his ear, close enough for him to feel the heat radiating from its scaled surface. In the same fluid motion, he raised both custom handguns, the intricate carvings on their barrels glowing with contained light magic, and fired.
Twin bolts of pure, incandescent light erupted from the muzzles, streaking across the throne room like miniature suns. They slammed into the demon king's broad, scaled chest with a resounding impact that echoed through the chamber. The air crackled with the sharp scent of ozone and the sickly sweet stench of demonic ichor as the light seared through the thick hide, leaving glowing, smoking wounds that pulsed with raw energy. The king roared, a sound of pure agony and fury, the force of the blasts staggering his advance. He stumbled back a step, his crimson eyes blazing with hatred.
However, the damage, though significant, was fleeting. Even as the light continued to burn into his flesh, a visible shimmer rippled across the king's demonic form. The edges of the wounds began to twitch and writhe, the blackened flesh knitting back together with unnatural speed, the glowing edges fading as the regenerative power of his demonic essence took hold.
Enraged by the sting of the light, the king roared again, a sound that seemed to vibrate the very stones of the throne room. He swiped a massive, clawed hand, each talon the length of a dagger, in a wide arc aimed at Rega. Seeing the attack coming, Rega dove behind a thick marble pillar, the king's claws scraping against the stone with a shower of sparks, the impact leaving deep gouges in the once pristine surface.
Even as Rega sought cover, his two bodyguards, Zuri and Kenya, moved with the seamless precision of a well-oiled machine. Their blades, humming with their own inner power, flashed in the flickering torchlight. Zuri, swift and agile, darted in low, her curved blade aimed at the king's leg, forcing him to shift his weight. Kenya, her movements more grounded and powerful, met the king's next swipe head-on, her broadsword intercepting the monstrous claws with a resounding clang that jarred her entire arm. Sparks flew as enchanted steel met demonic bone. They danced around the enraged king, a whirlwind of flashing steel against his hulking form, their practiced coordination allowing them to anticipate his brutal attacks, deflecting blows that could shatter stone with surprising strength and precision. Their blades sang a deadly song, each parry and strike a testament to their unwavering loyalty and deadly skill.
During a brief lull in the chaotic dance of demon and warriors, Rega, his breath coming in ragged gasps, lowered his empty handguns. The king, his wounds already mostly healed, let out a chuckle. "Useless, little prince. Your flashy toys are but pinpricks. You cannot hope to harm me."
Rega's lips curved into a grim smile. "You're right, Father. These alone… they aren't enough." He nodded towards his bodyguards. "But I am not alone, and these aren't the only weapons armed with light."
As if on cue, Zuri and Kenya, with synchronized movements, shed the cloaks they had been wearing. In their hands, they each wielded a Gatling gun, crafted from a similar blend of forbidden technology and ancient light magic. The multiple barrels gleamed with the same potent energy as Rega's handguns.
The throne room filled with the deafening roar of the Gatling guns. A relentless barrage of light-infused bullets tore into the demon king. Scales shattered, demonic flesh shredded, and the air filled with the stench of burning corruption. The king roared in agony, his massive form staggered by the sheer volume of the assault. Healing magic, potent as it was, couldn't keep pace with the devastation.
Finally, with a shuddering groan, the demonic form flickered, collapsing inwards, reverting back to the human shape of King Rega, his face contorted in a mask of shock and pain. Before his eyes could fully focus, before he could utter a final curse or plea, Prince Rega raised one of his handguns, now reloaded, and fired a single, precise shot. The light bullet pierced the king's forehead, extinguishing the last vestiges of his life and the demonic power that had corrupted the throne. Silence descended upon the blood-soaked throne room, broken only by the lingering hum of spent light magic and the ragged breaths of the prince and his loyal guards.
Rega lowered the weapon. For a long moment, he stared at the body that had once been father, king, monster. Then, he turned to the throne and walked forward into the light. He kept his back towards his guards making sure they couldn't see the tears coming down his cheeks.
"Hey you girls hungry? I am famished."