Dean had been fighting during all this time. He had been training with his sword, nourishing his body and increasing his strength every day. Without even thinking too much about it, he could say many cases in which he nearly died. He could describe in detail the struggles he had during his life, the moments when he thought he was done.
He was still young but had so many stories to tell, so many experiences, so many regrets, and victories...
Right now, though, charging toward Perseus, he finally understood the reason why all those things happened. It felt like everything he had been through was for the sake of that moment, of that fight.
His steps weren't random at all. He knew where to step, how to approach, and what to do afterward.
His eyes weren't showing superfluous and light emotions. Instead, it was overflowing with genuine and intense ones.
Dean's heartbeats weren't too fast nor too slow. His mind wasn't too rushed nor too sluggish.
