Lyerin's training of the tribe members became grueling and relentless.
Day after day, he drilled them, his voice a constant roar of commands that echoed through the ruined city streets.
Every hesitation, every moment of doubt, was met with sharp, cutting words.
"Move!"
Lyerin barked at a young woman who hesitated when faced with a grotesque, multi-limbed creature covered in oozing black sores. Its appearance was enough to freeze her in place.
"It's weak! Do not falter just because it looks terrifying. You're hesitating over nothing!"
Her hands trembled as she raised her weapon, but with a sharp inhale, she followed his command.
With one swing, the beast collapsed, crumbling to the ground like a pile of rotten flesh.
She stared in shock as it disintegrated at her feet, the tension in her muscles finally releasing.
"See?" Lyerin spat, shaking his head in disappointment. "You waste time fearing what's already dead."
