Thoren rode his undead Mad Dog Mistveil with a calm, detached expression. His gaze lingered on the young woman walking ahead of him for a moment before he averted his eyes.
She might be his captive, but he knew she would not hesitate to watch him be killed and devoured by the beasts if given the chance.
From her expression, her light steps, and her relaxed shoulders, everything was obvious.
She believed she was leading him to his doom.
The expectation was written plainly across her face.
But was he truly being led to his doom?
The corner of his lips curled slightly, and his eyes flashed with anticipation.
'I'm already halfway to Level 17…'
'After this battle, I should be able to level up.'
He could hardly wait to reach Level 17 and begin searching for the Slave Trade Guild Faction.
They were his archenemies, and he would not allow them to breathe peacefully while he was still alive.
