"Fucking finally!"
Theo's arms were in as much pain as if someone had soaked them in gasoline and then set them on fire.
His breath was ragged, labored, coming from the movement of his entire body rather than just his chest alone.
The young man's face was a mess, covered in a thick layer of oily sweat infused with dirt and sawdust from all the trees he had felled.
By every means and judgment criteria possible, Theo was one hell of a mess.
And yet, his eyes were full of jubilation. All because right now, rather than standing firmly on the ground, Theo kept only one of his feet on a stable footing while using the other to step down on the trunk of the fallen tree—the last one in the long, circular line marked out by the faint glow of his system's making.
Stepping down on the massive log like a modern hunter would when posing for a photo with their hunted-down prey, Theo momentarily forgot he was on a strict schedule.
