Seated inside the main chamber of the Slave Trade Guild hideout, Thoren stared at the few members of the guild groaning in pain. His face was expressionless.
The main chamber was wide, dim, and filled with the nauseating smell of blood. Broken furniture lay scattered across the floor, while cracked walls carried fresh marks from the recent battle.
Lying on the ground, an ordinary looking young man with his legs severed from his waist was wincing continuously, blood flowing out from his injuries. It was ghastly and gruesome to look at.
His face was pale, and his breathing was ragged.
He was a Level 35 Berserker and had an A Rank talent that increased his size and power.
But the side effect was that he lost his reasoning, turning into a blood sucking beast that would not hesitate to eat his opponent alive.
With the talent, he had fought his way to the second floor, and when he joined the Slave Trade Guild, his strength increased sharply, leaving only a few to be his opponent.
