One fresh-faced soldier slammed his silver spear against the rampart. “Brothers, the demons butcher our kin and burn our homes. Better to fall today than crawl tomorrow! We can’t surrender! We have to fight back!”
“Fight!” voices roared in unison, weapons raised, resolve blazing bright as dawn. Below the wall, citizens heard the decree and answered with a tidal howl, fury drowning fear.
“We will not surrender! Even if it means death, we will stand with Celestia City!” someone screeched from the crowd.
“Ieuan Chapman is a traitor! Kill and fight the demons!”
“Children of the celestials, arm yourselves and defend Celestia City!”
Within seconds, citizens of Celestial City surged forward. Side by side with the Guardian Army, they forged a living bulwark of shields, staves, and raw determination.
They might be citizens of Celestial City, but they were also cultivators in their own right. From a young age, they carried the pride of being celestials. and that meant no bowing to any other forces. Surrendering was not an option.
Watching rebellion bloom on the stones beneath his feet, Ieuan felt a mix of emotions. All had ever craved was power. Never, not even in his darkest ambitions, had Ieuan imagined betraying the Celestia, much less handing the citizens of Celestia City to the Demonic Soul Army. Yet now, was already in too deep to back out.
“You… You are all courting death!” Ieuan’s raw scream tore across the parapet, but his hands stayed frozen at his sides. He could not bring himself to give the order that would turn spears on his own civilians.
Soul Devourer’s patience snapped like dry tinder.
“So you refuse to comply. You are determined to take the hard way, huh? Very well. All forces advance. Level Celestia City!” thundered.
“Kill!”
One hundred thousand demonic souls roared in unison, a black tide that rolled toward the city gates with a sound like thunder underwater.
The iron doors held fast, but each pounding wave of claws and dark steel carved fresh cracks through the ancient wood and stone.
“Hold the gate!” The commander of the Guardian Army swung a sword in a burning arc, cleaving the first demon that clambered over the wall.
Soldiers followed his lead, thrusting spears, sabers, and arrows into the swarm. Beside them, untrained townsfolk seized whatever they could, axes, bricks, even bare fists, and dove into the melee. Some wrapped their arms around a demon and detonated their own bodies in fiery bursts of soul energy.
An elderly woman wrestled a shrieking demon to chest, spat blood, and hissed, “Rot in the abyss, you filthy demon. If I die, you die with me!”
The next second, white light flared. She had self-destructed and both vanished, leaving only a spray of ash that drifted on the wind.
Reaching the Earthly Immortal Realm had cost each citizen years of back-breaking cultivation, yet many hurled their lives away without a pause, unwilling to surrender.
A young mother wedged baby into a crack between stones, pressed a trembling kiss to its brow, then charged with a spiritual sword flashing in grip. “Forgive me, little one… Mama cannot watch you grow…”
Blood soaked the crenellations until the bricks shone crimson, bodies piled higher than the merlons.
Guardian Army soldiers and commoners alike fell, rose, and fell again, but no one stepped back even half a pace.
With every dying breath, they carved their definition of loyalty into the stones of Celestia.
High on the tower, Ieuan watched the carnage unfold below. Shame crushed the air from his lungs. He covered his face, tears leaking through trembling fingers. “It is my fault. All of this is my fault…”
Stebarin stood nearby, lips curled in delight. He produced a black gourd, tipped it toward the battlefield, and inhaled.
Newly freed souls from soldiers, civilians, and even children spiraled like silver smoke into the vessel Each soul dripped with bitter resentment, a perfect catalyst for cultivating his demonic techniques.
“Hahaha! This is magnificent! So many at once. This will vault me to the next realm!” Stebarin exclaimed, his voice quivering with hunger.
His laughter rang across the ramparts, shrill, manic, utterly devoid of mercy.
Half an hour later, the gate collapsed with a groan like a dying giant.
With the barrier gone, the Demonic Soul Army poured into Celestia City, drowning streets and squares in blade and shadow, hacking down every living thing they found.
Flames clawed at rooftops. Cries for help tangled with screams of agony and the clash of steel. Between the burning houses, corpses lay where hope had stood only moments before.
Celestia City, the crown jewel of level six-shattered without warning. Pearl-white spires toppled, cobblestones split like dry bones, and flames licked the heavens. In their glare, the Demonic Soul Army carved through alleys that once rang with laughter.
Ieuan staggered along a boulevard had walked since boyhood.
Where happiness and music had lived, only smoke, blood, and ruptured masonry remained. The sight crashed into him. Guilt coiled around his ribs, fierce as barbed wire, until breathing felt like penance.
