Five months later.
Deep within the heart of a dense forest, concealed by the twisted limbs of ancient trees, a foreboding cave harbored a den of demonic entities.
The cavern echoed with eerie whispers and pulsated with malevolent energy as a demonic ritual unfolded within its shadowed recesses. The air in the cave quivered with an unnatural stillness, broken only by the guttural incantations of the demonic congregation.
At the heart of the ritual stood Zargoth, a towering demonic body cultivator with obsidian-hued skin that seemed to absorb the feeble light. His eyes glowed with an unholy fervor, reflecting the depth of his dark powers.
