Kael was upside down.
His entire body was supported only by his arms as he performed slow, controlled push-ups, each movement precise as if measuring strength and endurance simultaneously. His hands were firmly planted on the polished wooden floor of the training hall, and his body remained aligned with an almost rigid discipline, despite the evident accumulated physical wear and tear.
His red hair was tied in an improvised bun on top of his head, a few loose strands escaping with the repetitive movement, following the slight sway of each descent and ascent. Small drops of sweat trickled down his forehead, following the side of his face before falling to the floor below.
His breathing was steady.
Controlled.
But heavy.
He had been there for hours.
It was noticeable.
The muscles in his arms trembled slightly with each repetition, his abdomen contracted with continuous effort, and even his legs, raised in the air, showed clear signs of accumulated fatigue.
