FARMLANDS DEMON SITE.

The midnight air was thick with the scent of soil and smoke. The Farmlands lay in deep silence under the starless sky, save for the distant rustle of wheat stalks swaying in the wind. Moonlight pierced through sparse clouds, casting pale silver across the broken path that led to the demon site.

Boots pressed softly into the dirt as Arslan walked forward, cloak trailing behind him, his eyes sharp with focus. Beside him, a low, otherworldly hum pulsed in his mind—Kar'Thael's voice.

Kar'Thael (quietly): "The soil breathes darker here. We're close."

The entrance to the demon site loomed ahead. Unlike the Lake District, this one was buried beneath an old irrigation trench—collapsed in parts, with stone walls bearing claw-like burn marks and sigils that pulsed dimly with red-orange light. There was a thin mist leaking from the fissures.

Arslan (whispering): "It looks like the same architecture. But something's...older."

Kar'Thael: "Older. And fouler. Be alert."

As they stepped inside, the air shifted. A chill crept up Arslan's spine. The interior of the site was a hollowed cavern, walls inscribed with infernal glyphs that pulsed gently like a heartbeat. Echoes of scuttling feet reached their ears. Then—a hiss.

Kar'Thael (tense): "Left."

Arslan spun instantly—three goblins emerged from the shadows, their sickly green skin glowing faintly under the glyphlight. They carried crude blades and wore leather straps, snarling with fangs bared.

Goblin (hissing): "Blood...for the figure!"

Arslan (coldly): "No."

In a blur, Arslan moved. His foot struck the ground, propelling him forward. One goblin lunged; Arslan ducked and twisted, driving his elbow into its gut, cracking bones. He spun into a kick, sending another goblin smashing into a pillar. The third slashed—Arslan caught the arm, twisted it, and drove his palm into the goblin's throat. They all collapsed.

Kar'Thael (calmly): "Efficient."

Arslan: "They were just guards. Defenders of something."

They continued deeper. The light dimmed, and the smell of sulfur grew. Then they found it.

The central chamber.

A dozen hellhounds lay coiled around a crude altar. Flames flickered above them, not from torches but from burning crystals embedded in the walls. The hounds didn't attack. They were kneeling—worshiping. Carved into the wall was a massive, chaotic figure, a shadowy being sketched in black lines with no face, only a ring of jagged teeth and clawed hands stretched skyward.

Kar'Thael (growling): "That's not a demon lord... That's something worse."

Arslan (frowning): "They call it 'the figure'. Even the goblins mentioned it. A new worship."

Kar'Thael: "No cult follows this unless commanded. This is orchestrated."

Arslan (softly): "Then the demons are building more than armies."

They stepped carefully around the altar. The hounds didn't move—entranced or bound by the ritual. At the back wall, Arslan found another set of glowing crystals—these were blue-violet, humming softly.

Kar'Thael: "Fire Crystals. Again. We take five."

Arslan (lifting them): "They hum louder than the last ones. Almost...warm."

As they left, the silence felt heavier.

Kar'Thael (uneasy): "This one feels unfinished. Like it's still forming."

Arslan: "Then we're not late."

They returned from the Site without taking risk....

Morning - Royal Capital, War Hall

The long council table gleamed under high crystal chandeliers. King Farhan sat at the head, fingers interlaced, eyes fixed on Arslan and Julius, who stood at the center.

King Farhan (calm but grave): "Speak."

Arslan (clearly): "We entered the demon site near the Farmlands last night. Structurally, it's similar to the one by the Lake—but older. Deeper. There were goblins at the entrance. They're defending it, not attacking."

Julius (leaning forward): "Defending?"

Kar'Thael (emerging with voice only Arslan could hear): "Tell them about the altar."

Arslan (firmly): "Inside, there were hellhounds. But they weren't hostile. They were gathered around an altar. Worshiping a shadow figure—not a known demon lord. Something with no name. Just a symbol."

The King's eyes narrowed.

King Farhan: "And this figure?"

Arslan: "Carved into the wall. No face. Just a jagged maw. Claws. Radiating darkness."

Julius scribbled on a scroll, frowning deeply.

Julius: "You believe it's a new form of demonic leadership?"

Arslan: "Not leadership. Worship. It looked like preparation. A gathering."

He handed the fire crystals onto the table, glowing softly in the light.

Kar'Thael (in Arslan's mind): "Say it. Warn them."

Arslan (quietly): "And there's more. We believe these sites are not isolated. They are connected. Or worse—coordinated. This isn't random invasion. It's a ritualistic setup."

The room went still.

King Farhan (slowly): "Then we must assume there are more."

Julius: "And whatever they're worshiping is not yet here."

Kar'Thael (serious): "That's because it's being summoned."

Arslan spoke Kar'Thael's words aloud:

Arslan: "It's being summoned. That's why these Gates are scattered. That's why the Sites are still forming. This is a multi-phase invasion. Not all of them have arrived yet."

King Farhan stood from his seat.

King Farhan (resolute): "Then we do not wait for them to arrive. We will send scouts to search for more Sites immediately."

Julius (nodding): "And begin preparing rituals of warding around the known Gates."

King Farhan (to Arslan): "You and Kar'Thael… Be careful. You are not just warriors anymore. You are our advance line."

Arslan (bowing): "Understood."

As the council adjourned and Arslan stepped out of the hall, the wind whispered faintly through the palace corridor.

Kar'Thael (softly): "It begins. The storm we feared."

Arslan (steeling himself): "Then we become the fire against it."