“I doubt this is going to save me from anyone,” she said after a week, growing uncomfortably sweaty. Her arm trembled as she raised the knife over her head for the hundredth time and channelled her resonance, altering the length and curve of the blade.
“If you can’t master the basics, you’re not going to survive anything.” A boot collided with the small of her back.
She gave a startled scream and barely managed to keep herself from ramming face-first into the wall by getting one foot out to catch her momentum, her knife curving instinctively as she spun around to face him.
Her spine was throbbing. A little harder and he might have broken it.
“What the f**k, Ferron?”
“Ah, back to surnames, I see,” he said coolly.
“That. Hurt,” she said through gritted teeth, touching her back gingerly
