In the heart of the illustrious capital city of the Hydra Kingdom, a clandestine conclave unfolded within the hallowed halls where the elders of the five regions gathered. Draped in resplendent crimson robes and crowned by pointed hats adorned with a golden claw-like emblem a meeting between the elders of the five regions took place. 

As they congregated around a colossal round table bearing the emblem of a five-headed serpent, the air hummed with an aura of solemnity.

 

 at its center took turns looking at the scrolls in front of them. 

 

"The Council of the Unholy convenes today to deliberate upon two ominous reports concerning the possible resurgence of the Demonkind," 

 

intoned the eldest among them, his voice a timeworn rasp.

 

The elders, their eyes like molten coals, each took their turn in scrutinizing the parchments that bore the unsettling tidings. Skepticism wrestled with curiosity as they weighed the veracity of the claims before them.

 

"These reports are naught but folly, baseless tales to vex our council's deliberations,"

 

scoffed an elder with a jagged scar that slashed across his left eye. His voice dripped with cynicism as he perused one of the reports with a disdainful air.

 

"Yet, bear in mind," ]

 

cautioned another elder, his countenance etched with wisdom,

 

 "that this report bears the seal of Viscount Lander, a noble house renowned for its unassailable credibility."

 

The councilor's gaze remained riveted upon the report, the gravity of the situation pressing upon him

 

"In the event Viscount Lander is not among those who relish the sport of 'crying wolf,' it would be unwise to dismiss his claims lightly."

 

The consensus among the elders began to sway, leaning toward cautious consideration.

 

“But why are these two reports together?”

 

inquired a one-handed elder, his remaining hand clutching the second scroll, his single eye scanning its contents with mounting astonishment.

 

As the elders delved deeper into the text, their collective consternation grew.

 

“This… This is without a doubt the work of the Demons!”

 

The other elder looked at him and took the scroll and was equally ensnared by its content. 

 

"This cannot be allowed to fester unchecked. Adventurers meeting gruesome ends, panic attacks wrought by sheer terror?" 

 

The other elders hearing these were all on edge realizing that this was something closer to what the higher tier demons would cause. 

 

The words hung heavily in the air, a palpable sense of dread pervading the room. Their peers, now fully grasping the gravity of the situation, nodded in uneasy accord.

 

"Examine the two reports side by side," 

urged the elder with the scar.

 

Two of the elders complied, juxtaposing the scrolls. As their eyes scrutinized the contents in tandem, shock rippled through their ranks.

 

"This... This is impossible! Two dungeons harboring identical creatures and floors?" 

 

one elder exclaimed, incredulity etched upon his features.

 

"Indeed, no mere coincidence," 

 

conceded another elder, his voice tinged with a sense of resignation. The enormity of the revelation began to settle upon them.

 

"We must launch an investigation. The emergence of a new Demon King cannot be ruled out. If permitted to mature, after over a century, our council will have failed in its sole sacred duty,"

declared the elder with the scar, his words resounding with the weight of responsibility.

 

As the other four elders absorbed his words, a collective somberness hung in the air. Their minds raced to a bygone era when Demons had once ruled the world with an iron grip. Fear and trepidation had reigned supreme, an unrelenting tempest that had laid waste to the land.

 

It took the birth of countless heroes before the Kingdom they have now could be safe once again. 

 

But now the possibility of a Demon King, meant that they might surface to destroy the world. 

 

But now, the specter of a Demon King loomed menacingly, casting a shadow of dread over their cherished realm. Demons, a race blessed and cursed with superior physical attributes, an affinity for demonic transformation, elemental manipulation, and a vast reservoir of mana, were an unparalleled force of terror.

 

The only saving grace was their lack of skills, low end equipment and lack of strategic adeptness.

 

But a Demon King was something on another scale. A Demon King was akin to a queen on a chess board, he held no equal and could shift the plain of possibility in many directions. His power alone was enough to topple entire continents. 

 

"To think, we dedicated our entire lives to driving the demons to extinction, only to realize that the very dungeons we've protected like cherished children might be the cradle of their resurgence,"

mused one of the elders, his voice tinged with a bitter irony.

 

Another elder couldn't help but respond with a sardonic chuckle.

 

“It seems mother nature has a perverse sense of humor. It is determined on keeping that cockroach of a race alive.”

 

Another responded feeling the irony in their situation. 

 

They all sighed in resignation feeling the futility of their existence. Regardless, they continued the meeting.  

 

“We will send one of the old monsters who understands the demons to investigate.”

 

declared an elder with an air of somber determination. 

 

"If any inkling of a Demon City should be unearthed, we shall not hesitate to obliterate it from existence."

 

With the unanimous decision  the Council of the Unholy was dismissed. 

 

With unanimous resolve, the Council of the Unholy came to a resolute decision. The elders, each burdened by their own unique pasts, took their leave, their footsteps echoing down the hallowed corridors as they embarked on a somber path.