Paul didn't know what to do anymore. Everything seemed to be lost.
They were fighting for long minutes. Their exhaustion reached its peak. It was difficult to even breathe.
Meanwhile, the same could not be said about their enemies. All that situation seemed like some kind of idiotic joke, those you refused to believe that were real.
He was kneeling, panting hard, feeling his lungs burning in pain. After fighting for so long, even someone as used to it as he was would get to a limit.
'Damn it!' he thought, feeling the urge to punch the ground, but not having the strength to do even this much.
Again, Paul was feeling like he was at the deepest bottom of the well. His mind was immersed in the darkness that he had been lost every single day when he was a slave.
