A desolate wasteland stretched across the horizon—once a town, maybe even a thriving city, now reduced to scorched rubble. Blackened stone, collapsed buildings, and ash-filled air were all that remained. Not even corpses were left behind—just shadows scorched into the ground.
Amidst the silence, Karlos stood with an unreadable expression on his face. His dark coat fluttered gently in the heated wind, crimson eyes scanning the ruin but betraying no emotion.
Beside him, Zalario examined the devastation with a cold, impassive gaze. As a Primordial Angel, he had seen many atrocities across time—but he still recognized the cruelty here. It was clinical, calculated… and complete.
Reinhart, on the other hand, couldn't hide his reaction. His jaw clenched, his hands balled into fists.
"Damn it," he muttered, gritting his teeth. "Those bastards... how could they do this without an ounce of remorse?"
"They're daemons, Reinhart," Karlos replied, his tone quiet but blunt. "They don't have humanity. we never do."
"Enough," Zalario said calmly. "Let's find the Primordials and end this before they destroy another kingdom."
Just as the three turned to search, a powerful pressure swept through the ruined land.
And then—they arrived.
Three presences shimmered into existence, stepping out of thin air like they had always belonged there.
At the front stood a tall man with messy red hair, sharp red eyes, and a lazy grin that dripped with arrogance. He stretched his arms like this was a casual meetup.
"Yo," he greeted casually. "Nice to meet you guys."
The trio of Solara's champions stopped in their tracks.
"I'm Guy," he continued. "And I have to say… I'm kind of disappointed."
His smile widened, voice light but mocking. "I mean, you, Zalario—you're a Primordial Angel. You should at least make this interesting. I'm looking forward to seeing what you've got."
His gaze shifted to the others.
"But the other two? What is this, a joke? A daemon from the black lineage? A high human? Really? That's what Solara's sending? I'm insulted. No offense—okay, maybe some offense—but this feels like a warm-up at best."
None of the three answered.
Zalario simply met his gaze with quiet, focused intensity.
Karlos, meanwhile, glanced toward the two women beside Guy—Rain and Misery. He immediately felt it. All three of them radiated overwhelming pressure.
"...Troublesome," he muttered.
His eyes narrowed. "They've all awakened. Not just Daemon Lords. Not just True Demon Lords. Devil Lords... the pinnacle of daemon evolution."
He took a breath and glanced sideways. "I can match them. My mutation as a Daemon Emperor puts me beyond the standard daemon path—but Reinhart…"
Karlos quietly spoke without turning his head.
"Reinhart… I think we'll need backup."
Reinhart's eyes remained locked on the enemy trio. "Listen, Karlos. Now's not the time for your jokes and roast sessions—"
"I'm not joking," Karlos cut in, voice serious. "Even you can sense it. Their power is on a different level. This isn't arrogance—it's fact."
Reinhart was quiet for a moment.
Then, with a soft exhale, he smiled. "Don't worry. I can handle myself."
Karlos blinked, then sighed with a smirk of his own. "Fine. Just don't say I didn't warn you."
As the group prepared for combat, Guy raised an eyebrow.
"Oi, oi," he called out, sounding vaguely offended. "Are you guys seriously just going to ignore us while having your little strategy talk? That's kinda rude. Especially you, daemon of the black lineage—I thought you'd show some respect to your elders."
Karlos turned toward him, grinning back without a hint of respect in his eyes.
"Oh—my apologies, dear Primordial Daemons of our noble race. I must've been too distracted by your dramatic entrance to notice your divine presence."
Rain gave a quiet snort.
Misery smirked, brushing back her green hair. "Careful, Guy-sama. This one's got sarcasm."
Guy laughed. "I like him already."
Zalario finally spoke, voice cold and steady. "Enough chatter."
He drew his blade, divine energy coalescing around him.
"You've destroyed innocent lives without cause. This ends now."
The tension snapped like a pulled wire. Magic surged. The battlefield, once silent, now vibrated with impending destruction.
And the real fight… was about to begin.
The wind blew through the ruins—hot, dry, and filled with the heavy weight of incoming war.
Guy stepped forward with a casual air, hands in his pockets, a grin playing at his lips as if this were nothing more than a friendly duel.
"Alright," he said smoothly, "I'll fight Zalario."
He didn't even wait for a response before gesturing toward the others.
"Misery, you take the black-blooded daemon over there. The mouthy one." He threw Karlos a look of casual disdain. "Younglings these days… so arrogant. Think they can bark just 'cause they learned to stand."
Misery giggled darkly, green hair swaying in the wind. "Don't worry, Guy-sama. I'll break him in gently."
"Rain, you're with the human," Guy added next, glancing lazily at Reinhart.
"Huh?" Rain blinked, visibly unimpressed. "Why do I get the weakest?"
"Well…" Guy shrugged. "It's already decided. So there's no point arguing."
Rain sighed, muttering something under her breath, but didn't object further. The way her magic subtly flared, it was clear she was still going to give it her all.
Then, Guy raised a hand in a nonchalant wave. "Now, if you two—" he nodded to Karlos and Reinhart, "would kindly leave this place with your assigned partners…"
His eyes met Zalario's.
"…I'd like to have a proper one-on-one with your strongest."
He smiled calmly. Too calmly.
"Let's not turn this into a free-for-all. No need for chaos. Just clean, separate fights. Agreed?"
Zalario didn't answer, but stepped forward, drawing a glowing sigil in the air with one hand. Light radiated from his body like the calm before divine judgment.
Karlos gave a half-salute to Velsun's direction—even though his lord wasn't present—and turned, walking into the wastelands to the west, Misery following with a wicked sway in her step.
Reinhart, gripping the hilt of his sword, exhaled slowly and nodded to Rain, who simply yawned and vanished into mist, her presence moving to the east like drifting fog.
The three pairs dispersed, walking into different ends of the battlefield, where the skies darkened and magic began to pulse.
And in the center, only Guy and Zalario remained—Primordial versus Primordial.
As the others left, the tension between Zalario and Guy Crimson grew thick. Neither moved. Neither spoke for a long moment.
The wind was still. The sky above, though clear, seemed to grow heavier—just from the presence of two top-class beings about to clash.
Zalario slowly raised his hand and summoned his sword—simple in design, but the energy around it was sharp and concentrated. His posture was relaxed, yet perfect. He didn't waste motion. He didn't waste energy.
Guy simply smiled, amused.
"Are you always this quiet?" he asked casually.
Zalario didn't answer. He just stepped forward.
Guy's smile grew wider. "Alright then."
And they moved.
[First Exchange]
With a sudden burst of speed, the two met in the middle with a thunderous impact. Zalario's sword clashed with Guy's palm, the blow creating a shockwave that leveled the ground around them.
The land cracked and split, but it wasn't flashy magic—just raw force.
Zalario twisted and slashed again, aiming for Guy's chest. Guy ducked low, spun, and countered with a clean roundhouse kick. Zalario blocked it with his forearm and pushed Guy back with a palm strike that sent him skidding across the ruined field.
Guy stopped himself and laughed, wiping dust off his coat.
"Man, it's been a while since I fought someone who doesn't scream and explode after two hits," he said, loosening his shoulders. "You're as solid as they say, Primordial Angel."
Zalario took a step forward, expression unreadable.
"You're fast, for someone so loud."
"Hah! That's fair."
[Mid-Battle – True Strength Revealed]
Guy stopped smiling for a moment. His aura rose—not in a showy explosion, but steady and suffocating. His red eyes glowed faintly.
He got serious.
No longer blocking with his bare hands, Guy summoned a crimson longsword, glowing faintly with controlled magicules.
Zalario's gaze narrowed. He moved forward again, faster than before.
This time, the pace changed. The two began exchanging blows so fast that even most high-level beings wouldn't be able to follow them. Sparks flew with every clash. Shockwaves rippled from each contact.
Neither spoke now. It was pure combat—measured and deliberate.
Guy's fighting style was unpredictable, aggressive, but smooth. Zalario was disciplined, balanced, and calm. Every time Guy tried to overwhelm with speed, Zalario parried. Every time Zalario tried to break Guy's stance, Guy shifted and slipped free.
[Break in Combat]
After another intense flurry, both fighters leapt back, giving themselves breathing room.
Guy tilted his head. "You don't talk much, do you?"
Zalario replied, "Shut up."
"Heh. Guess that's why we're so different. But I gotta admit… this is fun."
Zalario didn't respond.
Guy continued, stretching his neck. "You're strong. Really strong. It's no wonder they sent you to face me."
There was a beat of silence.
Then Guy added, "But strength alone won't win this."
"I know," Zalario replied quietly, and his aura surged—not wildly, but with the stable pressure of someone who had trained for hundreds of years.
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