It was Sunday.
Amon woke up in the morning. He brushed his teeth and washed his face. After freshening up, he wore a plain white short-sleeved T-shirt and black training pants.
He decided to run around the campus — at least twenty laps. He left his dormitory room.
The morning mist clung to the cobblestone paths of Arcadia Academy, softening the edges of the grand buildings that lined up along the way.
The rising sun cast long streaks of gold through the trees.
Amon's steady footsteps stomped softly through the empty courtyard. But he didn't slow down.
Cold sweat slowly flowed down his forehead and neck. His breath came out short and measured.
Stomp! Stomp!
Each impact sent a dull jolt up his legs.
His plain white T-shirt clung lightly to his frame, darkened by sweat.
He had already finished thirteen laps around the academy's area, but his mind refused to stop.
