Lanse's exhale was laden with particles of exhaustion. Only the sounds of his ragged breaths and pounding heart filled the empty training room. His jet-black hair was matted to his forehead and cheeks, drenched with sweat that dripped down his face. Despite his exhaustion, his eyes burned with a fierce intensity as he focused on the space between his hand determined to recreate the energy sword.
With each second, doubt began to creep into his mind, like a poison seeping into his thoughts. The mocking laughter targeting his long-gone scars swirled around his head, taunting him with his failures and scars.
The hurtful words of the one person he had thought cared about him echoed in his ears, labeling him as "pathetic." Each time it wrenched his heart tighter than before. With the tears settling in his eyes, his lips twisted in anger. But he held back his rage, unwilling to let it consume him.
