"And what quest might that be?" Dimitri asked, tone smooth but sharp as a blade wrapped in silk.
Ren gave a lazy half-shrug. "You can ask Orakh if you want. Maybe he'll give you one too."
The corner of Dimitri's lips curled. He turned his gaze toward the towering Orc beside Ren. But before he could even open his mouth, Orakh's heavy voice rumbled through the clearing.
"You don't fulfill the requirement," he said flatly. "You'll only be a hindrance in our mission."
The words landed like a hammer blow.
Dimitri froze, his mouth half-open, and for a heartbeat, he looked like a fish tossed on shore. Laughter rippled among the nearby players, muffled but cruel. Everyone knew exactly what Orakh meant—Dimitri's strength, or rather his lack of it.
His ATP stat had been a running joke since the start of the event.
Ren hid his grin behind his fist, pretending to cough. The snickers spread wider, and Dimitri's face turned an angry shade of red.
