Chapter 155: I Called it Quits

Chapter 155: I Called it Quits

{Elira}

~**^**~

"Get up," Zenon repeated in his usual cold stone voice.

I groaned and flopped onto my back. "No. I live here now. On this mat. Forever."

Lennon chuckled from wherever he was. "Oh, I love this. She has already surrendered to the floor."

I wished I could give him a piercing gaze, but I was in no position to do that with this big bad guy over here.

Zenon didn’t laugh at Lennon’s remarks; instead, he simply leaned down, caught my wrist, and pulled me upright in one swift motion.

I stumbled into him and caught my breath before he gently nudged me back into position.

"Again," he ordered.

"Again?" I squeaked. "I already lost ten times!"

"Eleven," he corrected.

My jaw dropped. "You were counting?"

"Focus." He ordered with a frown on his face as he shifted his stance.

I muttered something unflattering under my breath and raised my guard, though it was half-hearted at best.

The moment I did, he lunged at me.

"Ah!" I yelped and tried to dodge, but it was too late. Zenon grazed my side with his palm, and I stumbled.

"Steady your feet."

Just then, another strike came too fast. I ducked, but I was too slow. His hand stopped an inch from my temple.

"Fix your eyes forward."

"Moon goddess—!" I squealed, twisting just as his leg swept toward mine. I jumped—barely.

"Better," he said flatly.

"Better?" I panted, clutching my ribs. "I nearly died."

"Nearly the say cannot kill a bird," he replied, already circling me again.

"What?" My nostrils flared immediately.

Lennon was doubled over with laughter on the sidelines. "She sounds like a squeaky toy every time you hit her!"

"Shut up!" I snapped, trying to keep my temper in check.

Rennon, of course, stayed calm. "Elira, breathe evenly. Don’t let him control your pace."

"This is easier said than done," I gritted my teeth, blocking a jab—then immediately shrieked when Zenon spun and tapped my shoulder blade. "Ahh! See?"

Zenon’s lips almost curved. "Do you even eat at all? You move like someone who survives on crumbs."

My mouth fell open. "Excuse me? I eat plenty!"

"Not enough," he said, striking again.

I dodged late again and cursed him under my breath. "Bully."

At last, I dropped my hands entirely, chest heaving. "That’s it. I quit officially. No more training, no more stretching, no more anything. Tell Founders’ Day I died nobly."

Zenon didn’t flinch. "You are not quitting."

"Yes, I am!"

"No, you’re not."

Before I could protest again, he reached out and set my stance back into place like I was nothing more than a stubborn puzzle piece. His eyes bored into mine, calm but unyielding.

"You will keep going," he said. "Even if you hate me for it."

My chest tightened. ’When was this never-ending training coming to an end?’

Zenon’s hand shot towards me again, a blur I almost missed. But how could I let this continue?

Immediately, I squealed, twisted, and bolted straight behind Rennon.

"I’m tired," I said breathlessly as I clutched Rennon’s sleeve.

Rennon blinked, looking completely startled, but he didn’t move. Then his calm eyes flicked from me to Zenon.

"I think we should end it for today," he said gently. "She has reached her limit."

Zenon’s stare cut into me like a blade. For a long, terrifying moment, I thought he would drag me out anyway.

But nothing annoyed me more than realizing that he wasn’t even panting at all.

Meanwhile, I felt like my lungs had packed up and left me for good.

"Soon," Zenon said, his voice low and assured as he adjusted his cuffs with maddening calm, "you will be the one begging me to train you."

I made a face and turned away. ’Not in this lifetime.’ All I wanted now was distance—lots and lots of distance from him and his relentless ’lessons.’

"Enough of the death glares," Lennon’s voice broke through, light and smug. "It’s time to replenish the strength you used up."

And that was when I finally noticed him crouched by the corner, pulling plastic bags I hadn’t realized were there in the first place.

In seconds, he spread the containers across the mat, snapping lids open one after another until the air filled with the smell of roasted chicken, spiced rice, and warm bread.

I stared at the sheer amount. "That’s... a lot of food."

Lennon grinned like a fox. "Did you think I would bring all this just for you?"

Just then, he produced four spoons from the bag and handed them out—one to me, one to Rennon, one to Zenon, and kept one for himself.

I released a soft sigh, relieved that the food wasn’t all mine.

Still clutching my spoon, I glanced at the spread again, my stomach giving an embarrassing growl loud enough for Lennon to smirk wider.

"Perfect timing," he said, patting the mat beside him. "Come on, sweetheart. Sit, and eat with us."

I listened and sat cautiously on the mat, watching as Lennon dug in, scooping spiced rice onto his plate. "Don’t just stare, Elira. Food is meant to be eaten, not admired."

Rennon quietly filled a plate for himself, then nudged the bread basket toward me with a small, encouraging smile. "Eat before it gets cold."

I muttered a thank-you and reached for a slice, only for Lennon to swoop in and plop a piece of chicken on my plate.

"There," he said smugly. "Protein. Maybe it will stop Zenon from thinking you are starving yourself."

Across from us, Zenon ate in silence, methodical and precise as ever. When he caught me glaring at him over the rim of my plate, his eyebrow arched ever so slightly—as though daring me to complain again.

I stuffed a bite of rice into my mouth instead.

The flavours burst across my tongue, savoury and spiced, and an involuntary hum slipped past my lips.

For a while, the hall filled only with the sound of spoons clinking, bread tearing, and Lennon’s occasional commentary about how he, personally, had saved me from collapsing on the mat tonight.

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t stop the smile tugging at my lips.

And with the warmth of the food and their presence surrounding me, I forgot about the crimson card burning a hole in my notebook.