The Empire of Reimia (3)

Latro stood before the mirror, gazing at his reflection. His bloodshot eyes were narrowed, his gaze firm. His slender, frail body trembled, and every square centimeter of his skin felt the roughness of the clothes he wore. His heart pounded, but he could manage it. Today, he faced a serious challenge – physical training drills, being a helpless pawn in the clutches of a bloodthirsty harpy. Not long ago, the thought would have terrified him, but after meeting his senior and participating in several joint training sessions, he no longer felt such anxiety. And although he understood that it was necessary to be in good physical shape for war, he couldn't shake the feeling that their instructor from hell was worse than any potential enemy on the battlefield. Slapping himself on the cheeks, he put on a stern expression and roared several times, feeling the destructive demonic energy flowing through his veins with each exhale. Without changing his expression, he resolutely left the room and walked with a spring in his step towards the training ground.