Another practised swing had slammed itself onto another half-damaged wooden dummy.

A harsh grunt escaped his throat, dizziness taking over his vision in a matter of seconds. He was training, harshly than ever..

It wasn’t until the ground had become his bed, collapsing in a quick manner as he failed to watch his footing, allowing exhaustion to pile up..

A single tear of blood seeped through the corners of his mouth..

What do you do?..