Standing on the cold ice plain, Thoren remained at the back of the undead Iron Roar Komodo, staring at the long fissure etched across the frozen expanse.
"The Slave Trade Guild hideout is beneath that crack, right?" Thoren asked, seeking confirmation.
He had expected the Slave Trade Guild's hideout to be nothing extraordinary, but this had gone far beyond his imagination.
In such a terrifyingly cold plain, who in their right mind would establish a base here?
However, when he remembered what he had learned about Fenric, their leader, he found it less surprising.
The three members of the Knight Order nodded.
"This is their hideout. That's why only a few people know about it," one of them replied.
"Anyone below Level 15 would freeze to death in this kind of cold," another added.
Thoren agreed silently.
This was a deadly place to stand for even a few minutes.
The sharp, frigid wind howled fiercely in his ears, whipping his hair about his face.
