The sun had finally risen, and Axelius was now lying flat on the ground of the training area, drenched in sweat, chest rising and falling as he caught his breath. Across from him, the sword Owen used lay on the floor. Owen, still in his mimic form—slim, stretched, and looking like a stickman slime—stood beside it, arms crossed and clearly upset.
"Damn it!" Owen shouted, kicking the sword lightly with his slimy foot. "I lost again!"
Axelius laughed from the ground, not even trying to hide how proud he was. "Told you! You'll never beat me."
He slowly sat up, stretching his back. Owen walked over and offered his hand. Axelius took it, letting him help pull him to his feet. Right at that moment, Millie arrived.
"Young Master, I've been looking for you," she said, a little out of breath.
"Yeah, yeah," Axelius replied, brushing off the dirt from his pants. "Just get my bath ready."
They started walking back toward his room. Millie followed quietly behind, nodding.
