Mikhail was in the middle of casually walking back to his tent.
The world was cast in the light of evening.
An orange hue that gave the world a mellow vibe.
Sharyl was scuttling across the ground next to him, occasionally darting off to consume a random insect or two. A quick snack, really.
But other than that, his walk back to the tent was uneventful. At least, on the surface, it seemed that way. Because in Mikhail's mind, things were different. Far different.
He was replaying and reviewing his training session with Valeria. The brutality and swiftness of each and every exchange. The slashes he had endured. The slashes he avoided. The slashes that seemed to defy logic.
The slashes he himself had used. The swings. The flips. The pull-backs and the thrusts. The stabs and strikes. He scrutinized every exchange, expending a great deal of Spiritual Aether without knowing it.
By the time he reached his tent, he finished reviewing everything.
