“I’m dying.”

Maximus surely sounded it. Stuffy nose, sore throat -- the whole nine yards! He was lying on the creaky bunk, arms spread wide, staring at the roof. He gave a pitiful little sniffle.

Maybe a part of him really was uncomfortable with the extremely mild cold. Or maybe, a part of him wanted to get out of practice. Yea. That wasn’t out of question.

“I can’t go. I’ll collapse.”

He always collapsed during training. Everyone did. That was the goal. If you weren't downed by the skill of another person, you'd be forced to continue until you were overwhelmed with sheer exhaustion.