In the desolate desert, where there was no water and the heat was enough to boil a person alive,
a lone youth stood beneath the blistering sun.
His long golden hair fluttered in the scorching wind, and his eyes were as deep and boundless as the ocean's waves.
In his hand, he held a black haze in the shape of a sword, his gaze steady and unyielding.
With the searing air tearing around him, he swung the sword straight through the heat.
Each swing made the hot air flicker and rustle.
Sweat poured down his forehead. He quickly took off his shirt, letting the heat escape from his body, then resumed swinging: calm, steadfast.
It was just a simple swing.
But he did it countless times.
From ten… to hundreds… to thousands…
"One million."
His swing turned into a blur, and a terrifying gust of wind burst forth, knocking everything in its path away.
He wiped the cold sweat from his brow, ready to resume.
