There must be a spell that constantly pushed someone to run or have stamina, strong and excellent enough to keep a person's body maintain their pace. Especially when they were running, like Alexander.
Cold wind brush past Alexander, the fringes of his hair swaying swiftly like dancing leaves around him as he looked ahead, eyes focusing on one particular spot – a spot where a person was moving at a speed painfully faster than Alexander himself.
The man ahead seemed to notice he was being followed. His eyes viciously glaring, he turned around and looked at Alexander. "You all don't know when to give up, do you?" Jolnir exclaimed, his tone revealing all the frustration he had at the moment.
Alexander didn't back down nor stop. He wanted to counter Jolnir's remark and tell him he himself didn't look to be giving up anytime soon.
