"Ugh…"
When I woke up, the first thing I saw was the white ceiling of the infirmary. That was becoming quite the familiar sight by now, given this was the second time in as many days that I found myself back here.
Sitting up, I winced at the phantom pain that surged through my chest, even though I was aware that my injury had been fully healed by now. There wasn't even a scar left, courtesy of magic, but somehow the psychomatic pain continued to linger. It was probably a psychological thing.
Glancing around the hospital room, I then slumped back against my pillow. If I wasn't mistaken, I had lost the match against Charles Lacroix. Even though we were already 3-1 down, my defeat made it 4-1, and extremely difficult for us to claw our way back in the team match. The chances of us making it past the semifinals were looking very bleak.
"Weak."
