The tunnel stretched ahead into impenetrable darkness, its walls barely visible in the shadows. Leo's legs burned with every step, trembling from exhaustion, while his arms throbbed painfully from supporting the wounded student slumped against him, blood seeping through the bandages.
Leo's sleeve stuck to his skin where the student's blood had soaked through. The air in the tunnel was close and stale, carrying the copper-salt tang of open wounds and the damp-earth smell of stone that hadn't seen sunlight in centuries. His own pulse thudded in his ears, steady and too loud.
The haunting image of the nine-star fight relentlessly replayed in his mind, clear and unshakable. He still faced an arduous journey ahead, with obstacles looming in the darkness.
He kept seeing the brawler's fist. The way space had crumpled around it, the sound of ribs shattering like glass. Leo glanced down at his own free hand, fingers half-curled, and felt how small it looked. How ordinary.
