Sunlight streamed through the curtains, warming the room as Sota slowly blinked awake. He stretched his limbs, expecting the familiar soreness to grip his muscles after yesterday's workout. But to his surprise, his body felt unusually light. Strong, even. Jack Mercer's conditioning seemed to have done wonders—his muscles, instead of screaming, hummed with energy. Swinging his legs out of bed, he stood up, rolling his shoulders and cracking his neck.
"Not bad," he muttered, walking toward the window.
Outside, the early Sunday morning buzzed with activity as people went about their day, enjoying the pleasant weather. It was a perfect day to take a break, relax, and let his mind drift away from the looming qualifiers. Heading downtown seemed like a good idea—he could clear his head, roam the streets, maybe even treat himself to something nice. He deserved it, after all the hard work. Getting into the top 32 wasn't just a fantasy anymore; it felt real. Achievable.
