Grandmaster Alex’s endorsement proved decisive in swaying the council toward Aji's proposal. As one of the five continental advisors commanding absolute authority, Alex rarely intervened in strategic debates, yet he spoke firmly in defense of Aji's vision, emphasizing that the righteous alliance held a clear tactical advantage in open-field combat over a siege defense within the walls of Prisma.

Alex reminded the commanders of his own past engagements with the dark army. The dark cultists commanded corrupted black flames capable of incinerating stone structures and urban sectors in a single breath; locking the alliance troops inside dense residential districts would only trap them in an inescapable inferno.

With the decision finalized, the council committed to open-field warfare. Commander Dasatama immediately relayed the tactical shift to Commander Yarko, who was overseeing the garrison inside the main gates. A three-pronged offensive structure was established: the central defensive legion, supported by elite guard units and independent academy forces from across the Orpris continent, would meet the dark army head-on outside the gates.

Simultaneously, two secondary task forces deployed under cover of the flanking forests along the central highway, preparing a pincer movement to trap the advancing dark vanguard.

With the briefing adjourned, the division leaders moved to mobilize their ranks. Dasatama offered a firm nod to Aji, who promptly briefed the Sky Squad and Aaman. The entire Sky Squad assembled outside the main gates of Prisma, taking up their designated positions on the open plain.

This vast expanse was set to become the primary battleground for the two opposing hosts. Though the main continental reinforcement columns were still en route, this initial clash would dictate the momentum of the entire campaign. Every cultivator present recognized the gravity of the moment: if the capital city of Prisma fell, the dark army would sweep through the remaining four continents without resistance.

That shared reality forged an unyielding unity among the orthodox forces. Differing martial factions and long-standing rivalries vanished, replaced by a single, unwavering mandate: the absolute eradication of the dark army.

The alliance forces assumed their combat stances. The two concealed flanking divisions remained hidden in the dense woodlands bordering the wide highway leading to the capital. Looking out across the horizon, the defenders could see the dark army advancing like an endless, suffocating wave that blanketed the plains.

The dark host marched in tight, disciplined ranks—foot soldiers, mounted heavy cavalry, and massive war carriages moving in unison. Every operative brandished dark armaments forged from corrupted steel. For ordinary defense guards and younger academy disciples, the sheer scale of the approaching force was enough to make their limbs tremble.

Even battle-hardened grandmasters felt a chill run down their spines as they gripped their weapons tightly. It was impossible to suppress the instinctual dread; the dark army—a force long spoken of as a dark myth from antiquity—was now materializing before their eyes in staggering, unprecedented numbers.

Commander Dasatama understood the fear gripping the two hundred thousand defenders assembled outside the gates. Standing against a dark legion numbering nearly one million combatants, the orthodox alliance faced overwhelming numerical inferiority.

Moreover, the dark army relied on unnatural, taboo cultivation methods—absorbing the internal parameters of fallen foes and utilizing Black Blood techniques to achieve rapid cellular regeneration.

In terms of numbers, attrition, and recovery parameters, the righteous alliance held zero natural advantages.

They possessed only their unyielding resolve to protect their world.

"Hear me, righteous warriors of the five continents!" Commander Dasatama bellowed, his voice amplified by atmospheric mana as he stood atop the outer ramparts alongside Warrior Jiro. His declaration echoed across the plain, igniting the spirits of the assembled host.

This was a conflict no defender could escape. Decades ago, the Three Legends had paved the way, sacrificing their lives to grant the martial world time to unite.

"We have enjoyed twenty years of peace bought by the ultimate sacrifice of the Three Legends!" Dasatama declared, his voice ringing with absolute authority. "They gave their lives so that we might stand together today as one united front! Now, the dark army returns to claim our realm. We will not allow our children and grandchildren to live as slaves beneath the Demon Lord's mandate! Today, we fight with everything we possess to drive the darkness back into the abyss!"

Dasatama's voice reached every ear across the front lines. "Lord Demon Shura must learn that the martial world will not bow! We stand united, and continental reinforcements are marching to join us even now! So long as we hold the line together, we shall prevail! In the name of justice—charge!"

The speech injected a surge of fervor into the ranks. Dasatama, revered as the God of War across countless campaigns, vaulted from the ramparts, landing gracefully on the plain below wrapped in a swirling gale of wind mana. Beside him, Warrior Jiro leaped into the fray, his broadsword drawn and ready for battle.

Re-energized by their leaders' defiance, the two hundred thousand defenders locked their stances, their fear evaporating into battle readiness. As the dark army drew closer, the horizon blotted out entirely beneath the sea of dark armor and mutated dreadnoughts. Looking upon the terrifying host, the defenders truly comprehended the burden borne by the Three Legends twenty years ago, when three solitary grandmasters marched alone to halt the Demon Lord's campaign.

Warrior Jiro raised his heavy blade, his voice booming across the front line: "Successors of the Three Legends! Their eternal spirit flows through our veins today! Let us prove that this generation is worthy of their legacy!"

A thunderous roar erupted from the two hundred thousand defenders, a single shout echoing across the plains: "For justice!"

The dark army halted its advance roughly one kilometer from the alliance gates. Suddenly, an absolute silence fell over the battlefield. Over a million combatants stood face-to-face, yet not a single blade clashed, nor a single word was uttered.

The atmosphere turned dead silent. The wind swept across the open plain, rustling the banners of both hosts as over a million warriors waited motionless, gauging the opposition's next move.

Suddenly, a figure wrapped in heavy, pitch-black armor ascended into the sky from the center of the dark army. A suffocating veil of dark magic enveloped his vessel, rising from his frame like burning black flames. Hovering ten meters above his front line, he looked out over the battlefield.

Aji recognized the figure instantly: it was Lord Demon Shura, sovereign of the dark path. Hovering mid-air, Shura extended his hands, palms upturned in a theatrical gesture.

"I commend the unity of the martial alliance," Shura's voice boomed, vibrating through the heavens and shaking the earth beneath their feet. "You have surprised me by assembling such a substantial host to oppose my reign!"

His voice carried a suffocating pressure that forced lower-tier cultivators to strain against the weight of his aura. The defenders stood frozen, listening to the tyrant whose legendary cruelty had haunted the realm for decades.

Now, standing face-to-face with the ultimate dark sovereign, a subtle tremor rippled through the orthodox ranks.

"To inaugurate this grand campaign," Shura continued, a chilling smile touching his lips, "I shall bestow a gift upon you all—a gift that will bring you supreme joy, for you shall be reunited with your beloved heroes!"

The defenders exchanged confused glances, uncertain of the Demon Lord's meaning. A gift connected to their heroes? The alliance held their weapons tightly, remaining on high alert for an incoming spellwork.

In the central war carriage, Nesia smiled coldly. She understood her master's dramatic flair. Shura delighted in psychological warfare—granting his enemies a flicker of false hope only to crush them beneath absolute despair.

That was the Demon Lord: a sovereign who treated mortal existence as a playground, possessing the unmeasurable parameters to back his arrogance. It was precisely why the dark army served him with absolute, terrified devotion.

"Behold your grand gift! Gaze upon them and praise your legendary guardians!" Shura taunted, his voice dripping with malice.

With a flick of his wrists, two dense streams of dark magic launched from the center of the dark host, streaking across the sky like meteors before crashing onto the open plain directly between the two armies.

BOOOOOOM!

The twin energetic impacts shattered the earth, sending a thick cloud of dust billowing into the air. As the dust began to settle, two distinct human silhouettes materialized within the haze.

The two hundred thousand defenders braced themselves, assuming the figures were high-tier dark generals deployed to open the engagement.

As the wind cleared the lingering dust, the twin figures stepped forward onto the plain. They were clad in traditional grandmaster robes, carrying an aura of profound, ancient wisdom. Both appeared as elderly grandmasters, yet their eyes burned with an eerie, pitch-black light, their vessels enveloped in a suffocating veil of dark magic.

Standing on the left flank near the city gates, Aji tightened his grip on his wooden staff, his knuckles turning white as his internal aura flared violently beneath his skin. Beside him, Gayatri gasped, her sensory domain confirming the horrifying truth Aji had shared earlier.

Across the front lines, the elder grandmasters and division leaders froze in absolute, paralyzing horror as they recognized the faces of the two figures standing before them.

It was Saint Ganada and Saint Yonan—two of the legendary Three Legends.