Lassim remained still beneath the thick roots of the storm leaf tree, letting the pain from his failed attempts settle. The blood that spilled from his lips had been thoroughly wiped clean on his martial attire's sleeve.
He planned to clean it later when he changed into a new set of disciple robes, but his mind hurt too much at the moment.
His body was strong, his regeneration enhanced beyond the norm thanks to his physique and divine Leviathan's curse, but mental wounds were not so easily repaired.
Even now, his vision was dizzy and sitting upright without a wobble took quite a bit of effort.
The storm above crackled and boomed with thunder as if mirroring his frustration from the failed attempts and current situation.
He had never felt so thoroughly stuck before.