When Zal the Commander departed from the court to return to the Pahlav region, King Kay Kavus at once marshaled his host. He commanded Tus and Goudarz to raise the banners and lead the Persian army toward the mists of Mazandaran. As the sun rose, the king and his warriors set out on their ill-fated crusade. Kavus entrusted the realm of Iran, along with the keys to its royal treasures and the imperial crown, to Milad. He instructed him to draw the sword of vengeance should any foe appear, and in times of peril, to seek refuge in Zal and Rostam—the true pillars of the army and the adornment of the Kianian throne.
On the following day, the war-drums sounded, and Tus and Goudarz drove the host forward. Kavus, shining at the head of his forces, pitched his royal pavilion before Mount Esparuz—a place where the sun sank into darkness, the lair of bloodthirsty demons where even mighty war-elephants trembled with dread. There, they laid down golden brocades and spent the night feasting upon radiant wine. At daybreak, the heroes assembled before the king, clad in armor. Kavus ordered Gev to select a thousand champion horsemen, armed with heavy maces, to sack the lands of Mazandaran. The king commanded that no one—young or old—be spared, that every prosperous town be put to the torch, and that the realm be cleansed of demons before news could reach their lords.
Gev bound his waist and descended upon the realm of Mazandaran like a tempest. Shamanic spells could not stay his blade; women, children, and men fell beneath the relentless swords of the Iranians. They pillaged and burned the paradise-like land, filled with enchanting maidens wearing golden collars and treasures of ruby and gold. When word of this destruction and the ruined beauty of the land reached Kavus, he marveled at the country's lost splenders, recalling the singer's sweet words.
Yet news of the onslaught reached the King of Mazandaran, filling his heart with grief. He summoned the demon Sanjeh and dispatched him with all speed to the Div-e Sepid, warning that if the White Demon did not come to their aid, not a single soul in Mazandaran would remain alive. Upon receiving the message, the Div-e Sepid bade him not to lose heart, promising to march with a terrible army and eradicate the Iranian invaders.
As night fell, a monstrous cloud of soot and pitch, summoned by sorcery, enveloped the heavens, plunging the world into ink-black shade. When dawn broke, a magical blindness struck King Kay Kavus and two-thirds of his host. Their vision was consumed by darkness, their fortune turned to ash, their treasures plundered, and their warriors chained. Kavus, trapped in sudden night, wept in agony, realizing too late that a wise counselor is worth more than all the gold in the world.
The White Demon roared over them, mocking Kavus for his boundless folly and hubris in seeking to conquer the realm of Mazandaran. He appointed twelve thousand fierce sword-bearing demons to guard the blinded captives, rationing just enough food to keep them breathing in agony. He then entrusted all of Kavus's royal wealth, his ruby crown, and his heavy mace to Arzhang Div, commander of Mazandaran, ordering him to carry the spoils to the King of Mazandaran and leave the Iranian king to perish in dark humiliation.