C#1: Prologue – The Great War
The fire crackled softly as night settled over the village.
A group of children sat in a loose circle, eyes wide, knees pulled close, shadows dancing across their faces. Above them, the sky was clear—too peaceful for the kind of story they were about to hear.
"Grandfather," one of them asked, voice small but curious, "is it true?"
The old man didn't answer right away. He poked the fire with a stick, watching sparks rise into the air like tiny stars.
"True?" he repeated. "Child… the world you see today only exists because of that war."
The children leaned closer.
"Long ago," the elder began, his voice low and rough with age, "when the line between myths and reality was thin… the Great War broke out."
---
Back then, the world did not know peace.
From the depths of the abyss came the demons—creatures shaped like humans, yet twisted beyond recognition. Their eyes burned with malice. Their presence alone poisoned the land beneath their feet.
Where they marched, crops died. Rivers blackened.
Cities fell. Kingdoms vanished.
Human weapons broke against them like toys.
"But we were not abandoned," the elder said."The guardians answered the call."
---
The Phoenix came first.
It fell from the sky wrapped in fire, its cry shaking the heavens. Blades and spells passed through it as if it were smoke. Even when struck down, it rose again—reborn in flame.
With each beat of its wings, fire rained upon the battlefield, turning demon legions into nothing but drifting ash.
Then came the White Tiger.
It moved silently, faster than sight. Its claws cut through demon flesh, and its breath froze the air itself. Demons did not scream.
They simply stopped.
Encased in ice, they were left standing where they fell—silent warnings carved into the battlefield.
The children drew closer to the fire without thinking.
---
After that, the earth itself seemed to rise.
The Black Tortoise emerged like a living mountain. Its shell turned aside every blow—magic shattered against it, steel bent, claws broke.
When it moved, the seas answered.
Waves crashed across the land, sweeping demon armies away as if they were nothing more than dust.
"And above them all," the elder said quietly, "ruler of skies."
---
The Golden Dragon.
Its scales shone like the sun itself, casting light across the battlefield. Fire and lightning bent to its will. No demon could face it and live.
To humans, it was hope given form.
To demons—
It was terror.
But even hope has its limits.
---
From the heart of the demon horde emerged their true master.
The Ancient Demon Lord did not charge forward. It watched. It commanded. And behind its power lurked something far worse.
"The Abyssal Leviathan," the elder whispered.
The name alone sent a shiver through the children.
"It was a thing born from the void. A monster so vast it could swallow worlds. The Demon Lord drew upon its power…"
His voice dropped.
"And the war changed."
---
The Golden Dragon faced the Demon Lord alone.
Their battle tore the sky apart. Mountains cracked. The land itself screamed. Even the Dragon struggled against the Leviathan's endless strength.
The other guardians were surrounded.
The demons did not stop coming.
For the first time…
The guardians were pushed back.
"That," the elder said, eyes reflecting the flames, "was when the Dragon made its choice."
---
Instead of standing alone, the guardians turned to humanity.
Their power flowed into human champions—ordinary people who became something more. Men and women who knew they might never return.
They did not fight for glory.
They fought so the world could survive.
The elder fell silent.
The fire popped softly.
One child finally asked, "Grandfather… who won?"
The old man smiled faintly.
"You already know," he said. "Just look around you."
Then his gaze drifted to a child sitting quietly at the edge of the firelight.
He lingered there a moment longer than necessary.
"…But remember this," the elder added softly."A war like that never truly ends."
The wind moved through the trees.
And somewhere far away—
Something ancient stirred.