Awakening Beneath Scorched Skies
Lavahound Elder let out another quiet sigh.
"Talent… can be cultivated."
"Strength… can be gained."
"But mindset…"
He shook his head slowly, the movement heavy with meaning, as if years of experience pressed down on his shoulders.
"…that is what decides everything."
Freddy said nothing.
He simply stood there—
Watching the distant wasteland.
The horizon flickered with a dull red glow, smoke rising in long, twisting streams. The wind carried heat even this far up the wall, dry and suffocating, mixed with the faint metallic scent of blood.
His eyes lingered in that direction, unfocused… yet sharp.
Something inside him was shifting.
Not fully understood.
Not fully accepted.
But it was there.
Then—
Lavahound Elder's voice broke the silence again, softer this time, almost conversational.
"Freddy… do you know when a person truly loses?"
Freddy blinked, pulled from his thoughts. His brows furrowed slightly as he turned toward the elder.
