Just moments before, the once boastful Gaile Whitman had somehow become a lifeless body in the span of a heartbeat!
He remained still on the pavement, the puddles around him turning crimson with his blood.
Paul Randall's weathered face showed no hint of feeling.
Rain streamed down his worn features. He spun around and began moving toward me.
"Senior Paul..." I fought to get those words out.
Paul Randall gave a small nod, crouched down, and said quietly, "Let me get you home."
"No..." I turned down his offer.
I clenched my jaw and said, "This chance is too good to waste... I can't give up now..."
Paul's brow creased, "The way you are right now, can you even get to your feet?"
Paul understood the aftermath of this method well. After using it, standing became impossible for two weeks.
But I said nothing, grinding my teeth with resolve and forced myself up from the pavement.
"Senior Paul... thanks..." I fought to speak the words.
Paul found himself speechless for a moment.
