"Remember, your mana must be let out little by little." Anya sniffled and rubbed her nose, her eyes lazily rolling toward Raiden at a slower pace. "I've taught you enough, and I believe you can do better on your own now. But I don't know if you're doing something wrong since your entire body is hurting."
Raiden offered her a warm smile as he struggled to pull on his black shirt, his fingers clumsy against the buttons. Heat coursed through his body while tremors ran along his frame, each movement sluggish and unsteady, like someone relearning how to inhabit their own skin.
Anya's gaze lingered on him, soft and concerned as she took in his pathetic condition. After a moment, she shrugged her shoulders. "I wouldn't have fought you if I knew you were this sick," she sighed. "Now I feel bad."
"Raiden turned to her. "Don't worry, Anya," he said, voice cracking. "I don't think this is a normal situation." His eyes narrowed as he drifted into his own daze.
