The next morning.
Thud.
Thud.
Thud.
Sweat rolled down Raven's forehead, gravity-defying as it was, considering he was upside down.
His arms trembled, shoulders screaming with each push-up.
On the floor, a curious squirrel watched him like he was performing some ancient ritual—likely because, to squirrels, push-ups were weird human mating dances.
"Yo, bro," came a familiar voice with a dash of street-savvy grit from the pulsing sword tattoo on his right arm. "You really gon' do push-ups like this when duel's brewin' and a squirrel is plottin'?"
"That's rich coming from a sword," Raven grunted mid-rep. "Also, there is no duel. Yet. And the squirrels are allies now."
Omnisect chuckled, his voice smooth as jazz but with the kind of energy that said he'd once led a sword-fighting dojo inside a pizza shop.
"I ain't judging, man. Just saying—maybe keep that core strength for the demon people instead of the plank position of despair."
"Noted."
