The forest was alive with the sounds of morning—birds calling from the canopy, the rustle of leaves stirred by a gentle breeze, the distant crack of branches as Seliora hunted somewhere beyond the treeline. But Xavier paid no mind to any of it. His focus was absolute.
He dropped to the ground, palms pressed against the cold earth, and began his push‑ups. Each repetition was deliberate, his muscles burning, his breath steady. He pushed until his arms trembled, until sweat dripped from his brow and soaked into the soil beneath him. He counted silently, refusing to stop at the easy numbers. Fifty… sixty… seventy. His body screamed, but he pressed on, determined to break past his limits.
