The banging of bronze and tin, along with a touch of smashed flesh and strange cracking sounds, reverberated through the morning.
Battered once again, Alistair underwent the tracing training. Logically, he should stop since this hurt a lot, and a battle was incoming soon. However, he felt this would help him fight during it.
The only lucky scenario was that Brock's attacks were lighter; he had also considered the injuries.
Too bad it wasn't the case yesterday.
'By æther, I am tired of the bullshit,' Alistair thought, his bleak expressions lingering. This despondency allowed the attacks to constantly pummel his cheeks. At some point, he didn't even resist.
The punches were too untraceable.
Brock also noticed this and stopped, still sitting cross-legged.
"Why aren't you blocking?" he asked.
"I can't do this tracing."
"That's because you are not feeling."
