[Leona POV]
Clang!
A heavy iron greatsword smashed into the ground, vibrating violently from the impact.
"Again!"
Leona roared, sweat pouring down her forehead, her breathing heavy but steady as her muscles tensed.
Taking a deep breath, she picked up the sword, a spare training weapon provided by the Elves, and swung it with all her might.
Whoosh!
The blade cut the air, heavy and fierce. It smashed into the enchanted wooden training dummy.
Crack.
The dummy splintered, a deep gash appearing in its side.
"Weak," Leona growled, tossing the sword aside in disgust. "Too weak."
She looked at her hands. They were trembling. Not from pain, the Young Lord had healed her injuries completely with that miraculous golden light, but from frustration.
Ever since the battle with Charron, she felt… small.
She was supposed to be the Vanguard. The shield. The one who stood in front of the Young Lord.
