At the second Demon Cult stronghold, buried deep within the scorched sands, Leon stood poised on a ridge, eyes locked on the ominous cavern yawning open beneath him. From its depths, a thick, malevolent energy pulsed like a heartbeat—slow, heavy, and wrong.
The air shimmered with the taint of demonic magic, and the ground seemed to recoil beneath his boots. Like the other base under siege, this one reeked of impending catastrophe. Tendrils of dark power writhed from the cave mouth, twisting the nearby dunes into warped, unnatural shapes.
Leon tightened his grip on his weapon, his jaw set. There was no room for hesitation. Whatever horror was incubating beneath the desert was nearing completion. Eldorin had to strike before the disaster broke loose and swallowed everything in its path.
"Are you ready?"