Exhausted, Ramiel fell to the hard ground, gasping heavily for breath. His mouth greedily devoured every breath of air, and his lungs fought desperately for even the smallest atom of oxygen.
He tried to move his hand, but it refused to obey like the rest of his limbs. Even with the slightest movement, every muscle fiber in his body trembled with effort. Every single nerve sent violent impulses to his brain, causing excruciating pain.
Ramiel closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. Slowly, his breathing became steady, and the pleasant coolness of one of the dungeon's floors penetrated deep into his body, bringing blissful relief to his strained muscles.
Next to him on the ground lay two heavy stone swords, which he had used for murderous training.
