Seconds bled into minutes. Minutes into hours. Hours into days. Days into weeks. Weeks into months. It had been three months since Zephyr set his foot on the grounds of Elden Vow.
A lot had changed since then. He was no longer a naive, scared boy. He was now a brooding bitter—sharper, colder. Frustration had left its taste on his tongue, and bitterness had become his language. All in all, failure had made him bitter.
He originally thought he'd stockpile Hollow Arts, maybe blaze past the curriculum. Reality laughed hard in his face. It took him two whole months—two damned months—to modify a single Hollow Art. One. And even that felt like a fluke. Every time he thought about it, he came close to tearing his own hair out. Now he understood why students bolted from that class the moment the tournament announcement was made.
