A week slowly passed in the broken ruins...
From Nero's perspective, the days seemed to blurry together.
Between his daily training, hunting, and studying what remained of the ancient civilization, these little days of respite felt like the cool evening breeze.
He fell into a rhythm that felt almost peaceful, though the word itself seemed inappropriate to describe anywhere on this chaotic world.
Each morning, he woke before dawn and began the daily drills with Gungnir. The moment evening came, he returned to his temporary camp with whatever he'd managed to hunt on the settlement's outskirts.
Since they were the most abundant, the Horned Coneys made up most of his diet, though occasionally something stranger wandered close enough for him to test Gungnir's Unwavering aim.
His Seals climbed steadily this way, reaching a total of a hundred and fifty by the week's end. None of the creatures posed real threats with them being Grade F Abominations for the most part.
