(Somewhere amidst a secret training field, hidden within mountains, the Fourth Elder's POV, 7 days before the fight)
*Pant*
*Pant*
Veyr's body was drenched in sweat from head to toe, steam rising from his bare shoulders as though his very blood was boiling beneath the surface, radiating heat and exertion in equal measure.
The tall mountains that surrounded the training ground bore the scars of dozens of failed attempts: trenches carved into stone, entire ridges flattened, and black scorch marks scattered across the walls from the shockwaves that had cracked them apart like brittle shells.
However, the success that Veyr chased seemed to still elude him based on the focused expression on his face.
Veyr stood motionless, blade in hand, head tilted slightly downward as he stared at the next mountain in front of him, his gaze sharp and unwavering. Unlike the shattered peaks all around, this one still stood whole, untouched, almost as if it were daring him to try again.
