Eleven had just begun the task of picking himself up off the ground, but with a hand pressed against his knee, the strength to push up off of it wavered and failed. He'd heard what Hendrik had said, but the meaning of them made little sense. Less so, Hendrik's conviction.

His brows drew together, puzzled. "What? No, we haven't. And we can't, as I am now. I have to get stronger in this world."

Which, ultimately, he knew was the point of all this sparring despite it sometimes feeling rather futile. While it did little for his magic or spiritual ability, honing further his strength and forms was nonetheless important.