Can You Just Fucking Fight Already?!

I fall to the ground. Every muscle in my body aches. My breathing is almost nonexistent. I press my heated check against the cold stone floor for a bit of coolness. With eyes I can barely keep open, I watch the last of my challengers leave the room – missing a few fingers. I pained groan escapes my lips as I flop myself on my back. I stare up at the high ceiling above me, trying to even out my almost non-existing breathing.

From head to toe, I am covered in a thick layer of sweat. I have cuts and bruises scattered over my skin from unsuccessfully dodging the swords and claws of my opponents. At least I am not hurt that badly. I am more exhausted than injured.

Saying I am exhausted is expressing that lightly. Very lightly. I can barely move.

“You can take a little break before we continue, Buttercup,” Father’s voice echoes through the room.