Time passed and Cain still hadn't succeeded. Jayden had always stayed just outside of his reach as if she was taunting him and now the strain of having sparred with both the instructor and her had begun to show.
His clothes clung to him as he was drenched with sweat and each breath was a laborous task.
His chest rose and fell in heavy rhythm, and his wooden blades now felt like they weighed a hundred pounds each. Bruises had started forming along his arms and ribs, a testament to the sharp, precise strikes she had landed with her wooden sword.
Jayden stood opposite him, calm and focused. Her weapon rested lightly in her hand, not a hint of tension in her posture. She had already struck him several times, not holding back nearly as much as she probably should have. Yet there was no gloating in her expression. If anything, she looked pleased. Whether it was with him or herself he did not know.
