Ironblood Blade hacked away at the endless stream of monsters that his guild members kept pulling toward him, his battle-axe rising and falling in a brutal rhythm. Yet beneath the clamor of steel and shrieks of dying beasts, unease gnawed at him. Something about that post Falcon had published didn't sit right.
Directing such a reckless attack at Featherlight felt dangerous. For Featherlight to rack up one Glorious Achievement after another in so short a time, there had to be real skill behind it. To write it all off as luck was absurd.
"Boss, still regretting letting Falcon put that post up?"
Ironblood Bard stood behind him, a healing spell already flowing from his staff, a grin tugging at his lips. "Personally, I think Falcon finally grew a brain this time. The post was actually solid."
"Well-written? By him?" Ironblood Blade gave a sharp snort. "He probably just paid someone to write it for him."
