The moon was full outside the serene lakes of Azkahar, where a group of people appeared. Large figures with muscles lining their visible arms and legs, and they made no attempt to hide their identity. The reason was very clear, embodied in a slender and elegant woman standing among the group.
Her graceful figure made the men unable to keep their eyes to themselves, despite knowing the painful punishments that would land on them if she got too annoyed. Although her curves were covered by either silver armor or silk, they were still a sight to behold.
"A dungeon has appeared here," said the woman in a monotonous tone devoid of life as her azure eyes stared at the waters. "As I have suspected, this tower has violated the contract. It has sheltered a fugitive."
"A fugitive, my goddess?" muttered Freud, the Chief of the Huntsmen Clan, while bowing his head. His mask was gone now because he dared not hide his face in her presence. "May I ask if he is different than the lightning user?"
