"I'm just saying, if every floor is this easy, we'll be C-rank by dinner."
A boy named Tomas was up front, shortsword out, grinning.
He was the kind of guy who narrated his own fights while he was still in them. He'd killed three spider-lizards today and he'd described each kill to anyone who'd listen, twice, in excrutiating detail. He was nineteen and had the confidence of a man who'd never been hit hard enough to learn from it.
Behind him, Fen kept pace with her staff resting across her shoulders.
She was the quiet one. She took notes during Haytham's lectures, re-read them before bed, and could probably tell you the mana conductivity of six different types of wood if you made the mistake of asking.
Oria brought up the rear with her shield on one arm, eating a strip of dried meat with the other hand because she'd decided that clearing monsters and having lunch weren't mutually exclusive.
