The cheers roared through the guild like a storm. Dozens of voices spat venom, calling for Finn's blood. Some shouted that he was a bad omen. Others went even further, accusing him of working with the Demon Lord.
And of course, Finn was freaking the hell out. He had no idea what to do—there were easily over a hundred people packed inside this hall, all glaring at him like a pack of rabid dogs.
The whole thing was insane. Finn's blood boiled. This guy always screams "fraud" when it's me—but the second he's got the crowd on his side, suddenly he's Judge, Jury, and Holy Executioner. Damn hypocrite!
The mob began to close in, chanting his death like it was some half-price concert. Finn instinctively backed away, palms sweaty, eyes darting for a way out.
He glanced toward the girls—only to get a headache from their wildly unhelpful reactions.
