Ch 4: Night before the Disaster

The streets were alive with chaos, filled with the frantic, desperate cries of the innocent. The old man stood in stunned silence, his body frozen as the world unraveled around him.

At first, as he saw people rushing through the streets, he thought it was part of the festival... a surge of excitement, perhaps... but the reality was far more grim.

It was fear. Raw, primal fear. The kind that makes people run as if their lives depend on it. And for these people, it did.

Men, women, and children alike darted past the old man, their eyes wide, mouths agape in terror. Their feet pounded against the cobblestones, carrying them forward, away from whatever nightmare had begun.

He could see it in their faces... the fear was like fuel, pushing them to run faster, harder, in the desperate hope of surviving whatever horror lurked behind them.

The old man's heart sank. His pulse quickened as the atmosphere around him turned darker by the second. His face, once calm and content, grew pale, his wrinkles deepening as worry etched itself across his skin.

His eyes widened, no longer clouded by age, but sharp with sudden clarity, as he tried to make sense of what was happening.

And then he saw it.

Just down the street, a group of soldiers emerged from the shadows, their faces twisted with cruel delight.

They wore identical yellow uniforms, each marked with the emblem of the Qingchen Sect's Justice Army. Their hands gripped weapons stained with fresh blood. The soldiers moved with terrifying precision, cutting down anyone who crossed their path.

The old man's breath hitched in his throat, his legs shaking beneath him. The sight before him was like something out of a nightmare.

These weren't bandits or thugs... they were an organized, military force, hunting down innocent people like prey.

The old man could see their weapons flashing in the dim light as they struck, tearing through the terrified townspeople with merciless efficiency.

His stomach churned as he watched a soldier chase down a woman, her screams echoing through the streets as she stumbled and fell.

The soldier's blade came down swiftly, ending her life in an instant, and the soldier's twisted grin only widened.

The streets, once filled with laughter and joy, were now soaked with blood.

"Grandpa... what's happening...?" the boy whimpered, his voice trembling, his wide eyes reflecting the terror unfolding before them.

The old man tore his gaze away from the carnage, looking down at his grandchildren. The little boy's candy had fallen from his hands, forgotten in the midst of the chaos, while the girl's small fingers clutched her grandfather's robe, her eyes brimming with tears.

"Don't look..." the old man whispered, his voice shaky but soft as he crouched down beside them.

"Don't be afraid, I'm here... I'll protect you."

But even as he said the words, he knew the bitter truth. His frail, aging body was no match for the soldiers who were tearing through the streets.

His heart raced, fear twisting in his chest, but he couldn't let the children see how scared he was.

They were too young to understand the horror around them... too young to face death.

The old man's thoughts raced as his eyes darted around, searching for any possible escape. But it was no use.

The street was flooded with panic, people running in every direction, and the soldiers... those ruthless soldiers... were cutting them down one by one, laughing as they did it.

There was no escape.

The old man's grip on his walking stick tightened, his knuckles turning white as desperation filled his chest. He had to act. He had to do something.

Without a second thought, he threw his stick aside and pulled his grandchildren into his arms, holding them tightly against his chest.

The girl let out a small, scared whimper as she buried her face into his robes, and the boy clung to his grandfather, his little hands shaking.

"Hold on to me, children" the old man groaned, his voice thick with emotion.

"I'll keep you safe... I won't let anything happen to you..."

But just as he took a step forward, his entire body jerked violently as a searing pain ripped through his back.

He gasped, his breath catching in his throat as two blades pierced his flesh, cutting deep into his old, frail body.

His knees buckled, his vision blurring as the pain overtook him. Blood poured from the wounds, soaking through his robes, dripping down onto the cobblestone street.

For a moment, the world seemed to tilt. The sounds of chaos around him dulled as a ringing filled his ears.

His legs shook beneath him, threatening to give way, but somehow, he managed to stay upright, clutching the children even tighter, shielding them from the violence. His breath came in ragged gasps, each one a struggle.

Behind him, the man who had struck him stood tall, his lips curling into a satisfied grin. The soldier was dressed in the unmistakable yellow uniform of the Qingchen Sect's Justice Army, his hands still gripping the hilts of the swords buried deep in the old man's back.

"Oye, old man!" the soldier sneered, twisting the blades slightly as the old man groaned in pain.

"Why are you trying so hard to die? You should've just run when I went for those little beans instead of you. Now look at you... pathetic."

The old man's breath came in shallow bursts, his mind spinning from the pain. But he forced himself to stay conscious, to stay standing for the sake of the children.

They couldn't see this... they couldn't understand what was happening. His grip on them tightened as if that could somehow protect them from the nightmare unraveling around them.

He swallowed hard, gasping through the pain.

"Why... why is the Qingchen Sect's army attacking us?" he rasped, his voice trembling.

"Why are you attacking our lord's people... when your princess has married our king?"

The soldier's grin only widened. He pulled the swords free from the old man's back with a sickening squelch, letting the blood drip freely from the blades.

"Isn't it obvious?" he said, his voice thick with mockery.

"That's exactly why we're doing this, you demon-loving fool."

The old man's eyes widened in shock, his heart pounding in his chest. His breath hitched, and a cold dread crept into his bones.

"D-Demon...?" he whispered, barely able to get the words out.

The soldier laughed... a loud, cruel sound that echoed off the bloodstained walls of the street.

"Yes, demon. We are the Qingchen Sect's Justice Army... the only true justice in this world. And our purpose is simple: to purge the filth of the demonic kind, to rid the world of your tainted bloodlines and your disgusting ways. Your lord is nothing more than a demon. A self-proclaimed 'Absolute Demon,' no less."

The old man's heart thudded painfully in his chest. The soldiers... the massacre... it was all connected to him. To their king.

The soldier wiped the blood from his blades, his smile growing darker.

"We are here to liberate this world, to rid it of your kind once and for all. Your princess? The rightful heir to the Qingchen Sect? She's probably killed that demon by now. By the time we're done here, this city will be free of filth, and soon, the entire world will follow."

The old man staggered forward, the pain from his wounds overwhelming, but the need to protect his grandchildren pushed him on. He held them close, feeling their little bodies tremble against his, knowing that they were scared beyond words.

"Do you think our lord will allow this?" the old man groaned through clenched teeth, his voice weak but defiant.

"Do you think he'll stand by and let you do this to his people?"

The soldier's eyes gleamed with hatred.

"Your lord? That pompous demon who thinks he can rule? He's nothing. A fool who played god for far too long."

He raised his blade, the metal gleaming with blood.

"He should be dead by now. And if he isn't, he will be soon. You're all going to die here, old man. You and your precious demon king."

Behind the soldier, more of the Justice Army soldiers stormed through the streets, cutting down anyone who crossed their path.

Their crazed laughter filled the night, echoing off the buildings, mixing with the screams of the dying. The once-celebratory atmosphere had turned into a nightmare, the streets slick with blood and littered with bodies.

The old man's heart broke. Tears welled in his eyes as he held the children tighter, feeling their unconscious bodies growing limp in his arms.

The joy they had felt just moments ago... celebrating their king's wedding... was now gone, replaced by fear, despair, and the looming shadow of death.

He could feel the darkness closing in, but the only thing keeping him tethered to the world was the thought of the children.

Their little bodies, unconscious in his arms, felt so fragile... innocent lives that had no part in this senseless violence. The old man's heart ached, not for himself, but for them. They didn't deserve to face this horror.

The soldier grinned wickedly, raising his blade once more.

"It's time to send you off, old man. You and those little demons with you."

The old man, trembling and barely able to stand, closed his eyes. He could feel the blood seeping from his back, the warmth draining from his body.

His vision blurred, and the sounds of chaos seemed to grow distant. This was it... his end.

He opened his eyes one last time, gazing down at his grandchildren.

"If only..." he thought, his tears falling freely now.

"If only I could have lived to see them grow. If only I could have served you a little longer, my lord..."

The blade began to descend, and the soldier's laughter rang in his ears, growing louder, more sadistic. The old man braced himself for the end, his entire body trembling with fear and grief.

But then... everything stopped.

Suddenly, the soldier's laughter ceased. The sound of clashing weapons, of screams, of running footsteps... all of it disappeared, as if the world had been muted by some unseen force. The silence was deafening, heavy, unnatural.

The old man's eyes snapped open, his breath catching in his throat. The soldier before him was frozen in place, his blade just inches away from striking. His mouth was still twisted in a cruel grin, but his body had gone rigid, as if paralyzed.

Around them, the entire city seemed to have come to a standstill. The soldiers of the Justice Army stood motionless, their weapons mid-swing, their expressions locked in various states of madness and violence.

The innocent townspeople, who had been running for their lives, were frozen as well, their faces twisted in terror.

Everything had stopped.

The old man, though weak and bleeding, felt a strange, overpowering sensation wash over him. It was as if the very air around him had grown dense, pressing down on his chest, making it difficult to breathe.

His heart pounded in his ears, and a sense of dread unlike anything he had ever felt gripped his soul.

He looked up, his eyes wide with disbelief, and then he felt it... the presence. It was ancient, overwhelming, and filled with unimaginable power.

It was a force that seemed to stretch beyond the mortal realm, beyond life and death, beyond anything that could be described in mere words.

The very ground beneath his feet seemed to tremble in response to it, as though the earth itself was bowing to this presence.

The old man's lips trembled as realization struck him.

"No..." he whispered, his voice barely audible.

"It... it can't be..."

But deep down, he knew. There was no mistaking this power.

The Absolute Demon... was back.