Anthony awoke with a groggy haze clouding his vision.
His eyes, still heavy with sleep, flicked toward the clock hanging on the wall.
"Shit. Five minutes to four"
A curse escaped his lips as he shot up, the remnants of sleep clearing from his mind in an instant.
He remembered Corporal Samuel's words, the directive to be at the arena by 4 PM sharp.
In that moment, a rush of urgency surged through him.
For the first time in over a year, since the grueling days of military training began, Anthony didn't bother with the luxury of a bath.
He couldn't afford the time. Instead, he drew on his mana, the familiar hum of control flowing through him as he effortlessly shifted out of his uniform and into something more casual, simple, practical.
With barely a second wasted, he moved toward the door.
His movements were quick, yet measured.
He still had four minutes.
Rather than teleporting or flying, he decided to walk.
