The Harvest Begins
The world had not yet healed from Azarkon's storm when the next shadows fell.
Kaalrath was gone. But his death had torn the veil wide open.
And now, the true monsters stirred.
Upper Rank 3 – The Crimson Butcher
In Rio de Janeiro, night fell unnaturally fast. The favelas fell silent as if the city itself sensed what was coming.
A scream tore through the air — then another, and another.
From the darkness emerged a towering figure clad in bone-like armor, its face a grotesque mask smeared with dried blood. In its hands, a cleaver longer than any man. With every swing, houses split apart, bodies reduced to mist.
The streets filled with red haze — not blood, but aura itself being ripped from the living.
The demon's laughter echoed across the city:
"I am Zarvok, the Crimson Butcher. Fifty thousand souls… and your city shall be the first feast."
Upper Rank 2 – The Desert's Maw
In Egypt, Azarkon's storm spread wider. Villages vanished under dunes, ancient temples crumbled into dust. Wherever his sand swept, people collapsed — their life force siphoned away, leaving nothing but hollow shells that crumbled to ash.
Azarkon raised his arms to the darkened sky. "The sands obey hunger. And hunger is endless."
Entire caravans vanished in seconds, their aura flowing into the storm like golden rivers.
---
Upper Rank 1 – The Silent Monarch
Far to the east, in Shanghai, the city lights flickered. People froze mid-step, eyes glassy, as if something unseen bound them.
Then silence. Not a scream, not a whisper — only stillness.
A pale figure walked the streets, robes flowing like liquid shadow. His eyes glowed faint silver, his hand raised in a mockery of blessing. Wherever his gaze fell, people collapsed — their aura slipping soundlessly into his waiting palm.
"I am Xerath, the Silent Monarch. Noise, fear, life… all end in silence. And silence shall crown the king."
Tens of thousands fell wordlessly, their souls drifting like smoke into the night.
The Council's Horror
In Paris, the seal map flared crimson not in one place — but three. The chamber descended into chaos as red lines spread across continents.
"This is not war," a German delegate whispered, trembling. "This is extermination."
Li Wei's expression was grim, his Soul aura steady.
"They're not killing randomly. They're counting. Every soul harvested brings them closer to their king."
Rehan clenched his fists. "How many?"
Li Wei's voice cut through the chamber like a blade.
"Fifty thousand. When that threshold is met, the Lord Ghost Demon will awaken."
---
Ishita's Vision
That night, Ishita dreamed. She stood in a void, scarlet flames flickering faintly around her. Three titans loomed in the distance — Zarvok dripping crimson mist, Azarkon cloaked in storms, Xerath bathed in silence.
And behind them, larger than mountains, unseen chains writhed in the abyss. A fourth presence stirred — vast, cold, and patient.
A voice slithered into her ears.
"Burn, Scarlet child. Burn, and you may join us. Or resist, and be the first to fall."
Ishita jolted awake, gasping, Rehan clutching her hand. She buried her face against him, trembling.
"They're coming for me. For all of us. And they won't stop… until he rises."
The darkness was no longer gathering.
It had begun to feed.