Time passed, and before he knew it, the morning sun had faded, replaced by the twin moons of Miranda and Sylvia.
At the edge of the courtyard, Leon kept running, his once-handsome face now pale and drained.
"Nine hundred and ninety-eight... nine hundred and ninety-nine," he muttered, breathless.
As he completed the final lap, reaching a thousand, his body collapsed onto the ground, his gaze blank and unfocused.
"Hah... hah... finally... finally..." He closed his eyes, struggling to catch his breath, each inhale feeling heavier than the last.
From morning to night, he had kept running, and at last, he had reached his goal—a thousand laps.
He never imagined it would be this exhausting. His legs felt numb, his arms barely responsive, as if they no longer belonged to him.
"It's been so long... since I've felt... this way." He opened his eyes weakly, staring up at the twin moons.
