All he ended up doing was failing monumentally.
Training, no matter how brutal, usually kept one busy or distracted. But the rigid T-stance that Astensia had Lancet do was not only painful. It was boring.
The first hour wrecked his shoulder. The second hour shattered his pride. By the third, his breath sounded like the dying engine of an old truck.
Lancet felt like he too was going to die, at some point he thought he was already dead. He didn't have the exact adjectives to fit the immense pain he was going through.
On the other hand, the sight of Astensia sitting in front of him in the destroyed castle was the soothing part of it. He didn't mind that at all.
But she was barely showing him any mercy. The sword had fallen multiple times and all she would do was tell him to pick it up and keep going.
What kind of Summon watches her Master suffer?
She laughed whenever he said that.
