Vol.4/Chapter 3: Punishment (II)

Lunch didn’t taste as good when every muscle in your body was screaming. Theo and I barely said a word, both nursing bruises, gulping down stew that Samira had lovingly made. My arms ached, my spine throbbed, and I could swear my legs were vibrating from the sheer number of dodges we failed to make that morning. And yet, when Chief Rakthu motioned for us again—no words, just a gesture—we both stood.

We couldn’t back down.

Back at the same clearing, the midday heat was beginning to fade, giving way to the golden tint of afternoon. Sweat clung to my brows the moment we squared up again. Theo cracked his neck, his red eyes locking in. We didn’t speak, but we didn’t need to. We had started syncing this morning—and that strange connection was sharpening now.

Rakthu stood, arms crossed, silent.