"Oliver, how much have you made this time?" inquired the adventurer, swinging his massive axe to sever the colossal dragon's claws on the blood-soaked earth.
He addressed his temporary companion, "I've heard you haven't taken a moment's rest since arriving in the West. Are you truly that…despair?"
"Nonsense. This opportunity is likely once in a lifetime," retorted the adventurer resting against a boulder, downing a potion. His demeanor was startlingly vibrant, belying the fact he had fought tirelessly for nearly four days.
"Do you understand the number of extraordinary beings flooding into the West?! It's practically half the empire! Each hunt can fucking assemble at least forty or fifty individuals, and every leader is no less than fourth-stage. Do you get the implications? Even if you merely tag along as a pack, there's scarcely any risk! We're slaying dragons, for heaven's sake – even the merest scraps are a feast!"
