The Godless Style Perfectionist

"Ngh!" Blimpo reacted, raising his arms.

Though he was no physical fighter; the elf received a harsh slam of knuckles straight into his gut, causing him to be flung back and slammed straight into a solid tree trunk.

Such an impact wasn't fleeting for the tinkerer who hardly put much stock into athleticism; he was stuck sitting there against the tree, coughing and trying to breathe air back into his lungs that didn't listen to him. It felt like flames coursed through his chest; every failed breath only made it harder to control his panicked lungs.

'I've always been nothing much physically. When it comes to my homeland, physical training is looked down on–it's magic or nothing. Even despite that, I wanted to become strong. Problem was…I was dirt poor. If I could barely get a sliver of bread a day, how would I bulk up? This is what I've been left with,' he thought.