Francis stood up, rolling his shoulders as he tested his movement. "Good, my hands are moving better already," he muttered. He had warmed up his body, cautiously testing the extent of his injuries.
"Please, don't be too rash, your highness…" Fidelma urged, "Your recovery might only be temporary—a side effect from using the healing amnis. Once the battle is over, you'll feel pain we can't even begin to imagine. So please… don't push yourself too hard."
Francis smiled softly at her, though there was a determined glint in his eyes. "Thank you, but I can't hold back. Right now, I feel stronger than ever. If I don't give it my all in this match, I'll regret it for the rest of my life."
Fidelma's lips pressed into a thin line as she fell silent. She knew that no matter what she said, it wouldn't change his mind.
Akiyama and Sharik exchanged glances, both recognizing the unwavering resolve on Francis' face. They, too, could feel it.
