."

"This battle mage from the Kingdom of Cormyr."

Jonara couldn't help but smile, "You will be transported to an abandoned cave southeast of Ancient Orens City. And you will be escorted to a nearby tunnel. No matter what weapons and methods are used, you must capture and

Kill this half-elf. If you fail to do so within ten cycles of darkness, your hunt will end in failure."

"Bring this with you."

As she spoke, she handed Santila a small glass bottle, "The tunnels in the wild are very complicated, and many young drow will fail their missions because they cannot find prey. Take this with you, believe me, no matter how far you go

If you are far away, your prey will chase you, completely eliminating the worries of searching for your prey.”

"Isn't there any room for maneuver?"

Santila took the small bottle blankly, looked at her with sad eyes for the last time, and her desperate whisper clearly showed her mood at the moment.

"You are extremely talented and well trained, and we are very confident in your success."

Jonara comforted her with a perfunctory smirk, "Otherwise, you will be killed by the prey. This is the challenge and rule of blood sacrifice, and it is also the truth of our drow life!"

Her voice was calm and cold. At this moment, Santila understood everything, and she understood it completely.

In a daze, she seemed to feel a weak flame of hope extinguishing in the depths of her heart. Perhaps, this was a harbinger of the coming darkness.

After all, it is never the fear of darkness that tortures people, but the soul struggling to pursue the light.

She must get used to this betrayal, try to accept this reality, and then try to stay vigilant and continue living.

Revenge is the root of drow passion, but this emotion is foreign to Santila.

She tasted it as if it were a glass of spiced green wine she'd recently tasted—bitter, yes, but energizing and resolute.

Santila is still young and willing to accept and learn about her people.

However, this was the first time she saw in the eyes of other drow their desire for their own death.

Santila instinctively felt that if she wanted to survive, she couldn't ignore this.

The young drow wizard turned his sky-blue eyes away from the vicious gaze and turned to the prey they had carefully selected for themselves.

She was surprised to find that the battle mage from the Kingdom of Cormyr had an unusually calm look in his eyes, as if he was an outside spectator, completely unaware of where his fate would lead next.

His complexion was pale, his smooth and white face exuded sharp edges and coldness, and his deep black eyes had a soft and charming color.

She saw him shaking his head slightly at her, and then nodded secretly.

Then, he calmly stepped into the portal and disappeared.

It's really ironic.

Santila felt a pair of eyes flashing with vicious amusement, staring at her, and she whispered to herself.

In her most desperate moment, the person who comforted her was not her blood relative, but a prey she was about to hunt.

This is the society of drow and the truth of drow life.

Therefore, she will never succumb to the conspiracy and rules they have woven long ago. She must try to resist and complete the blood sacrifice in her own way to become a true drow.

However, if she wants to become a true drow, what other choice does she have?

Other options?

Watching the battle mage leave, a cold smile slowly crept up Santila's pretty face.

A solution to the dilemma gradually took shape in her mind.

After all, becoming a true drow requires far more than just killing.

Constant change is the way of excellence.
Chapter completed!