Prologue (5) - Final prologue

Protector Ji-Woo, Hanuel, Zhen, and Liang roared a battle cry as well, jumping down to meet the figure.

Ji-Woo scoffed, "You're here for the boy…aren't you? Answer!"

The figure grinned, "Oooooh, how did you know? Wellll technically not really him, but something he has with him."

Hanuel yelled, "Those pups! It's those you're after!"

"Yes! Bring them out."

Suddenly, Mingxia's voice appeared behind the demon. "Don't worry, I brought him."

The demon figure turned around, and saw Mingxia pulling Joon forward as she had Hana in her other hand.

Hana said, "Let us go!"

Mingxia scoffed, "You're already a trouble maker, young lady. This has to be done. You don't deserve to be friends with anyone anyway, especially with a demon boy!"

The figure asked Joon, "Oh? Where are the hounds? They're not with you."

Joon scoffed, "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Mmmm. Reading you..you don't fear me at all. It's probably those eyes. I can't quite put my finger on where I had seen those eyes elsewhere. Oh well, my memories fucksd anyway. Also, since you don't have the pups, you have to die."

The shift in his demeanour was instantaneous and terrifying—a slow, ominous grin spreading across his shadowed visage as he advanced toward Joon at light speed, intent clear in his predatory stride.

But before the terror could touch Joon, the four puppies—each a dark blend of black and red fur, symbols of red fire and shadow intertwined—sprang into action. They lunged with a brave ferocity incongruent to their small sizes, pushing against the dark figure with bodies that should be too frail for such power.

Hana exclaimed, "Kick his ass!"

With sudden agility, these puppies began circling the figure with dizzying speed. Their forms blurred into streaks of red and black, weaving a visual barrier around him, their pacing paws thumping rhythmically against the earth like the pulsing heart of the night.

Then, as if reaching a crescendo in this wild dance, they leaped skyward, spiraling upward in a cyclone of energy. The night air tore with the sound of their combined growls and roars, the storm of their creation swirling violently. 

Where they merged, the energies of darkness and flame condensed into a monstrous form—a giant four-headed demon beast, shrouded in shadows and wreathed in licking flames of black and red. Its emergence was marked by a ground-shaking roar, its numerous eyes spiraling with a terrifying red gleam.

The fighters laughed the entire time.

This imposing entity, a guardian chimera born of loyal hearts and mystical union, descended with the full weight of its conjured fury upon the figure. Its many mouths opened wide, revealing rows of gleaming, ethereal teeth ready to obliterate the source of malevolence. Yet, as its massive form bore down, the figure ceased his advance and stood resolute. Raising a single hand, palm outstretched towards the beast, he uttered calmly but with unfathomable authority, "Go back." The power that thrummed in his voice was not just auditory but visceral, rolling through the very ground.

Joon screamed, "No!"

He began to cry, his tears racing down to his neck, "No…no…"

In an instant, under the weight of those words, the magnificent creature dissolved into a swirling mist of red and black, its presence extinguished as quickly as it had been summoned.

The absence of their beastial protector brought a chilling silence that settled over the field. Joon, witnessing the dissolution of their only defense, felt a surge of emotions overwhelming his young mind. Within him, a tumult of power began to stir, something ancient and fearsome awakened by the dire need to protect and by the proximity of the dark entity. All he needed to do was think of the times he had with the pups, even with Hana.

Hana softly said, "Joon…"

As Joon's arm began to transform, the skin alighting with black and red flames, sharp, menacing spikes protruding, and spiraling red eyes emerging, Joon's own eyes blazed with an unnatural light. The transformation was painful yet empowering, a manifest echo of the demon hounds' spirit now marking him as both vessel and vanguard.

"They were my friends…and you took them…"

Blood, dark as the shadows and red as the flickering flames, trickled from his nostrils and dripped from his lips, painting his chin with a grim reminder of the physical toll of such power. Hana, distraught, tried to reach out to him, her hands hovering hesitantly over his transforming arm, torn between the impulse to heal and the fear of harm. But Mingxia stopped her, taking her away, saying, "Let the boy die, leave him be."

"No!"

"You fail to understand no one will ever care for you, you see he's ready to kill everyone."

"You're wrong! Joon!"

Around them, the remnants of the sect watched aghast, transfixed by the spectacle of a child confronting such overwhelming darkness. Whispers of awe and fear mingled with the night breeze, carrying prayers and curses alike.

Joon's anger swelled with each heartbeat, feeding the flames that adorned his arm, each pulse amplifying the fury, each grimace deepening the resolve. His young face, contorted with rage and pain, was a mask of vengeful intent against the dark figure who merely watched, an observer to the transformation he had perhaps anticipated yet found intriguing.

The dark figure, his interest piqued by this unexpected turn of events, tilted his head slightly, contemplating the boy who bore both the essence of the mystical hounds and the raw, untamed energy of something far older. This child, he realized, could either be a formidable foe or a valuable ally in the grand tapestry of chaos he intended to weave.

As the red and black energy enveloped Joon, reaching a crescendo of crackling power, the scene held its breath. The night, witness to centuries of battles and cries, had yet to see a spectacle such as this—a young soul on the cusp of either destruction or salvation, his fate intertwined with the whims of dark divinity.

Then, as if the night itself paused, the raging energies stilled, hovering on the brink of explosion or extinction. Joon, standing at the heart of this storm, his transformation complete, faced the dark figure with a defiance born of raw, untapped power and untested resolve. The battle lines were drawn anew, not by seasoned warriors but by a young boy touched by destiny and darkness alike.

With the scene poised on this knife-edge of potential, the curtain fell on a tableau vibrating with tension, leaving the haunted whispers of what might come to stir the shadows of the night.

The consuming flames of Joon's transformation flickered with a dangerous intensity, now inching beyond the boundary of his arm to claim the rest of him. Each advance it made against his young, trembling body was accompanied by a corresponding retreat of the boy's own essence, pulling him further into a vessel for the darkly powerful entity emerging within. His flesh, marked by shadows and ignited by inner fires, portrayed a living canvas of conflict—an arena where the forces of young innocence battled against encroaching darkness. Amidst the searing pain and the roar of flames, a storm of tears mingled with Joon's cries—cries not of surrender, but of desperate, unyielding rage. His body shook, not only from the overwhelming physical transformation but from the turbulent emotions that tore through his heart with every beat, every breath.

As Joon's transformation became nearly complete, the mysterious figure watched with an unnerving calm. With fluid grace, he stepped closer to the young boy, his boots silent upon the scorched earth. "I am Azazel," he declared, his voice smooth and chilling. His visage, a serene portrait amidst the chaos, bore a smile that was both enigmatic and dreadful.

"You find yourself grappling with powers beyond your comprehension, young Joon," Azazel continued, his eyes locked onto the boy's anguished form. "This strength you're trying to harness, it's far greater than you can bear. It will destroy you, not empower you. You're too weak to control the inferno within."

Joon said, "Shut up…I loved them.."

"Aw how sweet. You loved your parents too, didn't you? Ask these people what happened to them?"

Ji-Woo said, "What.."

Hanuel added, "How does he.."

Azazel told them, "If you don't tell him, I'll kill everyone. Do it now! Now!"

Ji-Woo explained, "We killed them. And did not regret it. It was to prevent THIS from happening, this was all for the sect. Do I regret the decision now? No. Because darkness cannot prevail here either way. And we were gonna kill you now since you haven't mastered any techniques."

Joon cried, "You killed them….?!"

He began to roar in rage, the ground shaking underneath them, Azazel laughed, "Hahaha! This just got intense!"

As these words sliced through the turmoil, Azazel's gaze softened almost imperceptibly. "Your beloved guardians, those creatures you cherish—those pups are not mere animals. They are the Pillars of Hell. Each breath they draw, each step they take, strengthens the demons of our realm and amplifies hell's own might."

As Azazel stood amidst the swirling darkness, his gaze lingering over Joon's anguished form, he began to unfurl the lore of the land—a tale soaked in shadows and whispered through winds laced with demonic qi.

"The domains you tread, young Joon," Azazel began, his voice as smooth as the dark veil of night, "are not merely stretches of earth and sky, but canvases where the great demonic essences paint their power. This world, reshaped by demonic qi, bears scars and blessings of our ethereal touch."

He gestured expansively, his arms encompassing the unseen horizons. "In the north, the frostbitten cliffs of Haellangar stand, once the refuge of monks. Now, their sanctuaries lay crumbled, their walls seeping with cold qi, turned icy not merely by nature, but by the chill of deep, dark qi that frosts over anything with life. The monks now roam as spectral echoes, lessons in the impermanence of sanctity."

Turning slightly, his cloak swirling around him, Azazel's eyes flashed with a haunting light. "To the west, we find the once-verdant Josun Valleys, now a land of twisted growths and black vines. The qi here pulses with a virulent life of its own—where plants whisper and the wind hums with a quiet menace. It is a place where nature dances frenetically with the demonic, creating flora not meant to be seen by the sun."

His tone darkened further as he spun the tale. "Follow the river that bleeds into the heart of this continent, through the floodplains of Goryeoda, a vital artery once teeming with bounteous harvests. Today, these waters carry a venomous essence, infusing the land with a vitality that corrupts both soil and soul, birthing crops that seduce with sweetness but devour the spirit from those who partake."

Azazel paused, allowing the weight of his words to hang heavy in the cold air. "And let us not forget the eastern reaches—the wild coasts of Donghae, where the waters froth angrier than any storm-tossed sea. Here, the demons of the deep revel in the tyrannical qi that pulsates through the waves, summoning storms and calling shipwrecks to punctuate their domain with the bones of the unwary."

Hanuel asked Azazel, "Why are you saying all of this?"

"I say all of this to say, demons have evolved here, we're learning your ways and landscapes, sects, and geology. The more we learn the more powerful we get. We even hide amongst the nations. And you see how strong I am? Yeah, I'm the weakest of the demons. We grow stronger daily. Either way, you're little sect warriors would've died to some other demon. By the way, we're taking the pups back to hell where they belong. Don't worry about seeing them ever again."

In that moment, the panorama of a land twisted by supernatural forces became vividly clear. Azazel's words painted not just a picture of geographical shifts but a stunning tableau of cultural and spiritual upheaval, reflecting a landscape profoundly transformed by the pervasive influence of demonic qi.

Joon remained silent, his voice lost to the flames and the despair that clawed at his mind. Blood, blackened by the encroaching shadow, seeped from numerous wounds across his body, painting him a vivid tapestry of sacrifice and sorrow. His appearance was grotesque and harrowing—every inch of his skin narrated the cruel joke of destiny that unfolded with each passing second.

'What did I do to deserve this…? Hana…where did you go? Did you leave me too? I can hear you yelling my name…but I can't see you.'

The transformation hastened, eagerly claiming its due. Joon's cries dulled to whimpers, his eyes now pools of spiraling red—a void into which his soul seemed to be inexorably sucked. Azazel's words, though meant to intimidate, seemed to impart a resonating truth that tethered Joon's fading consciousness to the grim reality of his fate. Suddenly, above the despondent boy, the materialization of a fearsome entity took shape. The four-headed demon hound, massive and menacing, hovered ominously. Its eyes, a reflection of the abyss itself, focused solely on Joon with an inscrutable purpose.

As if responding to an unspoken command, the demon hound opened its vast, shadowy jaws and descended upon Joon. There was a moment of suspended horror before the maw closed around him, engulfing him completely. The world beyond his pain seemed to cease, the voices of his friends, the cries of battle, all swallowed up in the devouring darkness. In this encompassing void, Joon felt an eerie peace as the pain receded to numbness, his senses fading rapidly. He was falling, endlessly it seemed, into a chasm lined with spiraling red eyes that watched him descend further into oblivion.

And then, silence.

'Mom..dad…puppies…dad…Hana…Hana….please save me..'

In the quietude that enveloped him, a sudden, searing clarity pierced the darkness. A system window, so stark and jarring against the encompassing shadows, blinked into existence before him. Its edges glowed with an ethereal blend of red and black, mirroring the dual essence now residing within him.

[You have unlocked the cheat skill, assassin of gluttony]

The words, glowing with ominous promise, floated before his eyes—an inexplicable lifeline thrown into the depths of his despair. There was power in those words, a dark temptation wrapped in the guise of an opportunity—an escape from the consuming abyss.

As the system window faded, the abyss around Joon seemed to pulse with a newfound rhythm, akin to a heartbeat. The red eyes that had observed his descent now flickered with what might have been anticipation or warning.

Joon, armed with a dangerous ability and a soul marked by hellfire, was no longer just a boy. He was an enigma—a vessel forged through pain and darkness, bound to a destiny that could either redeem or utterly destroy him.

The stakes were monumental, the path perilous. As he embraced the gravity of his transformation and the daunting road ahead, the darkness seemed to whisper secrets of power and death—a lullaby to his reborn spirit.

[The puppies reside in hell, waiting for you to rescue them. Find a way to get there.]

'I'll get my revenge…that sect…Ji-Woo, Hanuel, Mingxia…Liang….Zhen…all of them! And that demon Azazel…I'll kill them all! And my dogs…I'll save them too! And Hana…I hope I find you.'