Beyond the city walls, within the camp of the orcish horde, Hekoth and Gunn, the two most seasoned shamans, hurried to the tent of their chieftain, Khao’khen. The weight of their discovery pressed upon their shoulders as they prepared to deliver news that would shift the very nature of the conflict.

“Chieftain,” Hekoth began, his voice grave, “We have sensed a disturbance within the city. Demonic presence lurks within its walls.” The shamans’ eyes, usually filled with the wisdom of their connection to the spirit realm, now reflected a deep concern.

Khao’khen, his face etched with the weariness of battle, straightened. “Demonic energy? Are you certain?” The chieftain’s curiosity battled with his wariness, knowing that such forces could be another obstacle to their goal of taking down the city.

“Yes, Chieftain,” Gunn replied, his voice steady. “The signs are evident. The city exudes a sinister force that we are all too familiar with – that of demons. Yet, for the time being, it remains feeble.”

Hekoth nodded in agreement. “Currently, the demonic force is relatively feeble, however, with adequate time, it will inevitably strengthen and appears to be concentrated near the center of the city. The summoning of these demonic spawns through some sort of ceremony or occurrence is an issue that we cannot disregard.”

Khao’khen’s gaze turned inward as he considered the implications. “This might change everything,” he muttered. “We cannot ignore such a threat. Prepare a scouting party. We must send out scouts to figure out what is happening inside the city. We need to know the nature of this demonic force and who controls it.”

As the shamans prepared to depart on their scouting mission, Gur’kan made an appearance outside Khao’khen’s quarters. He conveyed the eagerness of the warriors to join the commotion within the city walls.

“They have become restless, Chieftain,” Gur’kan rumbled,. “The previous engagement didn’t satiate their hunger for battle. They sense the scent of struggle and are eager to join the fight. Many of our warriors express their eagerness to get back at our foes for their cowardly way of combat from the previous attempt at the city walls.”

Khao’khen, his features stern, listened to Gur’kan’s words. He was aware that the orcs had a strong inclination towards battle, and the previous encounter was something they despised as they were denied the opportunity to engage their enemies in physical combat.

Yet, he also understood the importance of strategy and the need to assess the situation within the city walls. “The humans are not our only concern right now,” the chieftain replied, his tone measured. “There are forces at play that we do not yet understand. Demonic presences lurks within the city, and we must uncover its source before we commit our forces.”

As Khao’khen’s words hung in the air, a figure emerged from the shadows, supporting the feeble form of Faynah. The chieftain’s brow furrowed in confusion at the sight of the her weakened state. Before he could question her, Faynah spoke, her voice weak but determined. “Demonic creatures, Chieftain. They plague the city, but there is also a group of women, a force to be reckoned with. They fight with archery and magic, a unique and powerful combination.”

Khao’khen’s curiosity piqued, and he motioned for her to continue. “These powerful females are a formidable entity on their own. I have crossed paths with them in the past.. They move with grace and power, their arrows finding their mark with great precision. And their magic… it is something that leans towards the dark element but not evil.”

Khao’khen, his curiosity piqued, turned his gaze towards the two shamans, Hekoth and Gunn. “Have you ever heard of these women warriors, shamans? Their unique blend of archery and magic, as described by Faynah, is intriguing and may be an asset or a threat we have not considered.”

Hekoth, his eyes narrowing in thought, spoke first. “Chieftain, we have not encountered these women directly, but their description resonates with one of the faction among the long-ears. It is said that they have abandoned their previous beliefs and embraced the power of a new goddess. They are excellent archers with their long-eared lineage and blessed by their goddess with a very high affinity to the dark elements.”

Gunn nodded, his voice steady. “There are stories that speak of their power and how they have influenced the course of some conflicts in the past. They are powerful fighters that prefers to move in the shadows. Their closeness to the dark elements had caused them to be loathed by their own kin who remained true to their beliefs. Furthermore, their new deity was viewed as a foe by numerous human faiths, leading to their relentless pursuit and persecution.”

Khao’khen’s eyes narrowed, his curiosity turning to frustration at the shamans’ vague description.

“What are they exactly?” he queried, his tone sharp.

“Dark elves, Chieftain” Hekoth and Gunn said at the same time.

Why didn’t you say so earlier? Khao’khen was somewhat irritated by the two shamans, but more so was the confusion that was still yet to disappear from his face.

Hekoth and Gunn exchanged a glance, their confusion mirroring the chieftain’s. “We believed the clues we provided were clear, Chieftain,” Hekoth replied, his voice steady. “The long-ears, their abandonment of old beliefs, the dark elements—all point to the dark elves. Forgive us if we assumed you knew of them.”

Khao’khen waved away the apology, his mind already racing ahead. “No matter. Their presence adds a new layer of complexity to the situation. We must consider their potential involvement and the impact of their presence.”

*****

Inside the Sand Palace, Ishaq, Menna, and Isma ventured deeper into its halls, their steps carrying them toward the heart of the demonic energy that plagued this place. The three exchanged glances, their faces illuminated by the flickering torchlight that cast dancing shadows upon the old walls.

“I cannot fathom why that idiotic king insisted on keeping that demoness alive,” Isma whispered, her eyes darting around as if expecting some unseen force to materialize from the darkness. “We should have disposed of it in secret. Now, look at the mess we’re in.”

Menna nodded in agreement, his brow furrowed in worry. “Indeed, that brat’s decision has put us all in this sticky situation. That creature is an abomination, and its presence here is nothing but future troubles.”

As they drew closer to the source of the demonic energy, the air grew heavier, thick with an otherworldly malevolence that seemed to seep into their very bones.

Along their journey, the trio encountered numerous demonic creatures, each more formidable than the last. Their path was littered with the remains of the fallen beasts as they ventured deeper into the heart of the Sand Palace. The creatures they faced became increasingly challenging, testing their skills and resolve. With each encounter, they left a trail of slaughter in their wake, a grim testament to their determination to reach their goal.

The air grew heavier and more oppressive as they ventured further, the malevolent presence seeping into their very souls. Despite the growing sense of dread, they pressed on, their steps steady and purposeful.

As they turned a corner, the trio beheld a sight that made them pause. Before them lay the lowest chamber of the palace but its appearance was greatly different from what they have remembered.

The once-simple lowest chamber of the Sand Palace now lay defiled, its floors stained with the blood of sacrificial victims. Corpses were strewn across the room, their lifeless eyes reflecting the flickering torchlight. The air was heavy with the coppery tang of blood and the acrid scent of demonic magic.

Upon closer inspection, they noticed intricate demonic runes meticulously arranged in a circular pattern, forming a sinister perimeter around an eerie altar at the chamber’s center.

The makeshift altar throbbed with a mysterious force, acting as a magnet and absorbing energy from the sacrifices. The mystical markings, radiating an otherworldly glow, appeared to pulsate in unison with the altar, producing a haunting symphony of illumination and darkness.

Upon the eerie altar that dominated the chamber, they saw King Gyassi, unconscious and surrounded by demonic energy. The runes and markings pulsated with an otherworldly glow, a sinister symphony of light and darkness.

Ishaq’s anger surged as he realized the demoness’s plan. She intended to use the king as a vessel for a powerful demon. With a speed fueled by rage, he rushed forward, his eyes fixed on the demoness who stood beside the altar. He grabbed her by the throat, his grip like iron, and slammed her against the wall. “You will pay dearly for this,” he snarled, his eyes burning with fury.

Ishaq’s grip tightened around the demoness’s throat as she struggled to breathe, her eyes widening in disbelief. “You… you are an awakened,” she croaked, her voice filled with a mixture of fear and awe.

The seals that had masked Ishaq’s true powers was broken accidentally due to his fury, his true power now at full display.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep