[color=goldenrod][i][h2][center]Gerard Segremors[/center][/h2][/i][/color]

[@Raineh Daze]

[color=goldenrod]"You're right, he should've."[/color] the erstwhile mercenary agreed readily, almost tonelessly, amber gaze following hers into the middle distance. [color=goldenrod]"And the next one like him will again. Whether it's a trio of us, [i]or[/i] just me."[/color]

He had to ingrain the goal. He had to visualize the state in which he matched him blow for blow, strike for strike, strength for strength. If it could be achieved, it was there— Sir Agrahn. Sir Cyrus. Could he measure up to them, legendary titans of the field? He didn't know. He certainly didn't feel like a once-in-a-lifetime warrior... But the type of greed to chase those mythical figures had gotten him this far. And if he reached even a fraction of their ability, the Bandit King he'd fought would be trivial. Of that, Gerard was certain.

As for her query, he nodded along his understanding— to be turned into a supernatural, superhuman entity at the age it seemed she had, it [i]did[/i] stand to reason that she'd not have much cause to worry about honing the body, when it was already so empowered. Lucky him. It was a rare day anyone got to elucidate the honored Paladin.

[color=goldenrod]"It's a drill from my past life."[/color] he began, [color=goldenrod]"We used to sprint uphill to improve our dashing ability. It gets the legs used to exploding forward for harder and longer— the way I fight is all pace and pressure, so being able to crush distance quickly, suddenly, and keep swinging hard, time after time, is as important as it gets. It [i]is[/i] endurance work, in a way— but it's also just building up the strength that gives you raw speed. Doing that, over and over, so I could keep swarming a defense like his until it breaks. It took us a bit to crack him open."[/color]

A wry grin played over his face, mirroring that of his comrade. [color=goldenrod]"If [i]only[/i] we had a hill. Pushing up from below hits you twice as hard."[/color]

He knew she had a point, regarding recovery. Nobody could work themselves endlessly, grinding truly down to the bone, and expect to gain much. If you had nothing left to build upon, then your house was sure to crumble— If you endlessly sowed your fields the same way, never feeding the soil, your crop would dwindle with each passing month.

He'd felt it firsthand on march, years ago. Roving between battlefields made for rough living, and with strictly constrained meals, at times it was a miracle the Regiment hadn't strung themselves out completely. He'd lost friends that way. Hunger was a powerful motivator, but exhaustion made mistakes appear where they never should've.

But...

[color=goldenrod]"Thanks for the concern, ma'am. And the advice— I'll be sure to peruse it after this. Right now, I feel able enough to at least manage this much."[/color]

He had to strike it hard and fast. Attacking one's own weakness was rarely so easy as the day you were both able and not only willing, but driven. Rest could come in a few more laps.