For two whole days, they walked.
Initially, the newly appointed Sihapis marched and even were having fun as they tried to maintain a steady rhythm.
But when their Masters collectively decided to not take a moment of break for a total of eight whole hours, all the excitement dimmed like the afterimages of a falling star.
They were allowed to sleep for barely four hours before the march would begin again. But the next time, nobody marched in rhythm. Or more precisely, nobody had enough energy to try maintaining a professional stance.
"All you got is this? How are you people even going to survive out there in the frontlines?"
On the third morning, a voice shook everyone out of their disoriented state.
Gripping his trembling legs, David looked up. The muscles around his eyes stretched as he tried to clear the mirages he was seeing.
Master Zamian stood in front of his disorganised claw members, his eyes judging each of them but not hostile.
