The arena quieted as the final match ended. Zairon stood atop the highest balcony, the city's lights flickering below like trembling stars under his rule. Yet, even with dominance in hand, his smile faltered.
There was something… off.
Like the wind carried whispers that didn't belong.
That night, as his inner circle gathered—Selene, the twin spear maidens, the strategist Kairo, and the ever-silent Han—Zairon spun a dagger between his fingers and said, "There's something rotting beneath my city. Who wants to go sniffing?"
Selene raised an eyebrow. "Rotting?"
Kairo stepped forward. "I intercepted a few reports. Murmurs of a symbol—something ancient, hidden in alley walls. People disappearing. A black mist seen seeping from abandoned chapels."
Zairon's eyes narrowed. "What symbol?"
Kairo tossed a sketch on the table. A spiral, jagged like it was drawn in a seizure, surrounded by clawed wings.
Selene's tone darkened. "That's no regular cult."
Zairon touched the mark, and for a second—just a second—he felt the pulse of something wrong. Something familiar.
Raur.
Beneath the Arena
The deepest catacombs of the city weren't meant for humans anymore. Not since the era before the Fall.
Here, robed figures whispered in the tongue of the forgotten, surrounding a black altar that pulsed like a heart. A withered priest raised his hands high.
"O beings of Raur, open the gate! We offer blood and faith! We give you chaos in your name!"
Around him, chained beasts howled in madness. Humans, twisted by spirit toxins and broken cultivation paths, now little more than husks.
And then...
A shadow appeared above the altar. A half-formed eye opened in the air. Gigantic. Watching.
The priest collapsed, screaming joyfully.
"They see us! They see us again! The gate... it nears!"
Back at Zairon's court
Zairon sat silently, hand clenched tight around his cup. The madness inside him hissed.
This wasn't just rebellion.
This was blasphemy.
"They dare summon what even I fear to touch," he whispered. "They try to bring Raur here?"
Selene stepped forward. "What do we do?"
Zairon stood. The cup shattered in his hand.
"We kill every last one. We cleanse the filth. I will not let them drag this world into their abyss."
His voice carried through the halls like a storm.
"But first… we find their lair."
Later That Night
A runner arrived, pale and breathless.
"My lord… one of our people found a cultist site. Hidden beneath the old cathedral."
Zairon's madness cracked into a grin.
"Good. Let's send a message. No one brings Raur to my world."