Hajin finished his five hundredth push-up before Marrick finally looked away from the accounts.
His knuckles pressed into the registry floor without trembling while three Rings fed him strength he was learning to steer. He rose slowly, since nobody in this town could afford replacement boards on a repair list that kept growing longer.
"Five hundred, and not one damn splinter," he cackled, shaking out his hands, "somebody write that down as a miracle."
Aria hovered beside the desk, flicking interface panes into tidy stacks with two practiced fingers.
"Bandwidth remains capped at seventy-two percent," she said, pushing the largest pane toward him, "until your third Ring harmonizes with the divine fragment."
"Band-what?"
"The share of your new strength the vessel lets you use, it is borrowed wording, keep up."
"Seventy-two percent, and I still nearly put my fist through the floor?" He wiped his forehead with the edge of his sleeve.
