And it was one everyone would remember.
Especially Master Allan, who had practically seasoned and swallowed his very own words. No condiments required.
It had been close to ten hours now. Ten.
And yet, contrary to his earlier colorful commentary about a bird flaring its spiritual energy like a mating ritual gone wrong, that cadet—that child—had not let up.
No real breaks. No slowdowns. No mercy.
Instead, he made it look easy. Fast, even. So much so that by the time they realized it was nearly midnight, the audience hadn't even noticed the hours passing. Their dry eyes and bladders, yes, but their minds, very much not.
It was like the world was catching up with his pace.
And when most of the audience would've bowed out after the first hour or two, tops—the auditorium was still full. Not just full. Glued.
Like a room full of dignified captives bearing witness to something they instinctively knew they might never see again.
