Chapter: The Crux of a Breakthrough
The night sky stretched endlessly above them, a canvas of stars shimmering like fragments of forgotten dreams. The air was still, except for the occasional rustle of leaves in the wind. Jafad sat cross-legged atop a jagged boulder, his obsidian sword laid across his lap, while Tolisk stood a few paces away, his hands outstretched as he practiced the second wind technique, aptly named "Fast."
Despite his intense focus, sweat dripped from Tolisk's brow, soaking the collar of his shirt. His movements were sharp but lacked fluidity, a series of jerks and unrefined attempts rather than the effortless grace the technique demanded. Each time he tried, the wind seemed to mock him, scattering unpredictably as though teasing his inadequacy.
“Not again!” Tolisk
