The second slammed both hands on the table, leaning forward with a grin that stretched too wide.
"So what skill does he want this time?" he asked, eyes glinting with trouble.
The first tilted his head, peering into the coin's faint glow. "Hmm… looks like a field-type skill... or maybe an attack one."
"Perfect," the second said, his grin twisting. "Let's give him an attack ski—"
"Wait a damn second." The first cut him off, brows furrowed. "He's a healer, isn't he? Why would you give a healer an attack skill?"
"You're doing some weird shit again…" the fourth muttered, already massaging her forehead.
The third said nothing—just kept stirring his cup of something thick and black, watching with the tired eyes of someone who'd witnessed too many bad ideas become real.
"Kekekek…" the second laughed, shoulders shaking as a faint spark of crimson energy formed between his fingers.
"Oh, I know exactly what to give him…"
The others exchanged looks. That laugh never meant anything good.
