The relentless morning sun beat down on the open training field, refracting off the dew-kissed grass like shattered glass. My lungs burned, each breath tasting like ash and iron as I forced my agonizingly heavy limbs to move. Sweat poured down my face, stinging my eyes, but the pressure in my chest was worse.
"Can we rest for now?" I gasped, my voice coming out as a breathless, pathetic wheeze.
My knees buckled beneath me, completely refusing to support my weight for even a second longer.
"I... I really can't do this anymore," I muttered, collapsing onto the rough turf of the field, utterly defeated by the physical exhaustion.
"Weak," Kulas barked from above me, his looming figure casting a long shadow over my crumpled form.
His tone was sharp, unyielding, and completely devoid of empathy. Fire flared in my chest, replacing the exhaustion for a split second. I whipped my head up, throwing a venomous, lethal glare directly into his eyes.
