"Damn! I can't hold this any longer," Desmond muttered through gritted teeth. Frustration consumed him, coursing through his veins like a raging fire, even though outwardly, his skin and face remained composed. If someone were to touch him now, they would mistake the intense heat radiating from him as a fever.
Though Desmond maintained an outward appearance of calm, his heart pounded within his chest, each beat reverberating in his ears. He exhaled, a hot breath escaping his lips as he felt Vesta's penetrating gaze fixated on him, stirring a nervous unease deep within.
The technique he had developed was still in its infancy, a mere prototype hastily created. He could sense his energy depleting with every passing minute, a stark reminder of its imperfection.
