After all the grueling sets were finally completed—
The classes transitioned to laps.
Students jogged in uneven circles around the field, their tired breaths mixing with the steady rhythm of pounding feet.
At the very front of the pack was Arthur, drenched in sweat.
His face was flushed, his hair clinging to his forehead, and his steps were increasingly sluggish.
The sword strapped to his back felt like it weighed a ton.
Every bounce with each step made it more unbearable.
"Fucking hell…" Arthur muttered between ragged breaths, "I feel like I'm gonna pass out…"
Nike was directly behind him, barely winded.
Her steps were light, almost effortless, as though the physical activity barely registered.
She shot her childhood friend a deadpan look and rolled her eyes.
"Maybe if you hadn't stopped chanting like a moron, you'd have been allowed a break before the laps."
Arthur huffed, shaking his head with a frustrated scoff.
