A few hours earlier…

At the highest fortress of the Werewolf Committee, two people stood side by side as they watched the rising sun from the grand balcony of the uppermost part of the tower.

Twirling the goblet of wine in her hand, Shananel, who was clad in her Elder uniform, stood straight with her chin held high. The air of solemnity and nobility wafted from her, making people rever her presence. It was a telltale sign of the peak of vicissitudes she had grasped after many years of battles both in war and in politics.

Through her sharp pair of eyes, there was nothing but a trace of determination...