A figure wearing tattered robes, drenched in blood, burst forth from the depths of Marian Lake. Moments later, several ink-coated tentacles tore through the surface of the lake, lashing out in relentless pursuit.
The battered figure weaved frantically through the air, dodging strike after strike. After several close brushes with death, he finally managed to slip free of their grasp.
At a certain height, the tentacles halted, swaying ominously before sinking back into the lake's depths. Hovering in the air, the figure cast a fearful glance towards the deep waters below.
Then, without hesitation, the figure turned around and flew away. He didn't want to be anywhere near the lake. For in its depths, lay a titanic kraken and an army of merfolk!
The Elder's intel was wrong, the figure thought as he flew away.
