As the first rays of the morning sun pierced the horizon, the golden-red dawn spread lavishly over the vast, night-dew-cooled earth.
At this break of day, Galos concluded his all-night training.
He slowly eased his stance, his chest heaving like a giant bellows, then exhaled a long, deep breath of scorching air that lingered for a while.
He then turned his head towards the young Golden Dragon.
After a brief respite, Alberto was now biting his teeth, enduring the muscle-tearing soreness and extreme mental fatigue, once again mimicking Galos's earlier fluid but powerful posture, starting a new round of exercises.
His movements were somewhat clumsy, but he showed no intention of stopping.
Is his competitiveness so intense? It's practically self-torture.
The Red Iron Dragon's gaze lingered momentarily on the young Golden Dragon's movements, a sliver of surprise and amusement passing through his mind.
