Upon hearing this, Chadite frowned because no matter how he thought about it, it couldn’t be a good thing. Lucilia also poked her head out for a glance, then quickly withdrew.
"It’s definitely not a good thing," Lucilia said, sharing her understanding. "If the sa tattoo is split in two, it generally symbolizes sharing, Conduction, or substitution. A tattoo with special powers, designed in such a way, surely held symbolic significance."
Upon hearing this, both of them couldn’t help but think deeply. They knew it was best to heed her knowledge on such matters.
"If you don’t understand the specific reason for this tattoo and lack the ability to remove it, you’d better avoid confronting your father directly."
Hearing Lucilia’s words, Alka nodded; he had been thinking the sa. He spoke up, "Of course, our primary objective right now is to rescue Andre."
During their conversation, the two returned to the house where they were resting.
Pororo was already leaning against the wall, snoring. It was rare to see him resting in such an environnt; the recent battle had clearly exhausted him greatly. Julia was sitting on a piece of rubble with her eyes closed, sensing the flow of Magic Power around her, presumably ditating. anwhile, the Brass Arm and Treasure Chest Alka had placed where he sat earlier remained untouched in their spots.
Hearing their footsteps, Pororo, still leaning against the wall, slightly opened his eyes. Upon seeing who it was, he fell back asleep. Julia didn’t even lift her gaze and continued her ditation.
Seeing them, Alka didn’t disturb either and sat down by himself near the fireplace. Chadite returned to his original spot, rested for a while, glanced at Alka, and then closed his eyes, also entering a state of ditation.
Only then did Alka pick up the Brass Arm beside him and begin to examine it closely.
Although it’s a Holy Artifact, picking it up didn’t hurt , he thought. This suggests that unlike the Sword of Love, this Holy Artifact doesn’t resist non-believers. Of course, it could also have been corrupted, losing that function.
Viewing the tainted patterns still present, Alka was uncertain whether this thing had truly been restored to its proper state. Even though it had been cleansed by the Holy Mother’s Holy Fire, eliminating the bloody and evil aura, the patterns on it didn’t hold the orderly beauty Alka had previously seen in the vision.
Regardless, the information given in the Holy Mother’s revelation urged to try it, so I’ll give it a shot.
He picked up the Brass Arm—the Hand of Precision—placing its base against his right fingertips. This was the thod of use a scholar had previously seen in a vision.
With Magic Power enveloping his arm, he slowly inserted his hand into it. The bottom tal surface of the Hand of Precision began to boil like water. As Alka inserted his hand, the tal gradually enveloped it. It felt like a layer of cold liquid wrapping around his hand; he could sense sothing connecting.
Once Alka had fully inserted his hand, he moved his arm slightly and felt no discomfort, despite it now being covered in a layer of brass. There was no hindrance at all; in fact, he felt his right hand beco more agile and precise. Magic Power flowed so smoothly through his right arm. It was as if his hand wasn’t covered by this layer at all, as if it were still his own hand, free of any foreign object.
Visually, Alka’s right arm, from the elbow down to his hand, was now encased in brass tal, adorned with patterns like those on the statue. Comparing his two hands, the brass-covered one was only a thin layer thicker.
As Magic Power flowed through his arm, Alka’s vision suddenly went black.
Again?
Yet this ti, the sensation was entirely different from the Holy Mother’s previous revelation.
So, not a revelation? Was it an effect of the Hand of Precision’s abilities?
He didn’t sense his soul being drawn out; it remained within his body, and he was still able to perceive his own body and limbs. It was just that his physical sensations were extrely dull; apart from his senses, everything else seed to move incredibly slowly.
An image of a figure began to manifest in his mind.
This figure was an old man clad in a grey robe. Blue lines ford highly ordered patterns on the grey robe, culminating in a symbol on its back that resembled an eye within a gear. In his hand, he held a Scepter assembled from various tal blocks; the tal blocks on the Scepter were still moving about randomly.
The figure then removed the hood from his head, revealing white hair, eyebrows, and a long beard. His aged face bore a pair of wise eyes. eting his gaze, you would feel an uncanny sense of being seen through.
Unaware of how or when, Alka found himself standing before the old man, fixated on his eyes.
"Good," the old man spoke, his voice calm and gentle. "I am Foster Fort of the Grey Robes, a Saint under the Wise One."
Foster Fort... The na seems very familiar. Wasn’t he the holder of the Hand of Precision? Similar to the Deputy wielding the Sword of Love. Grey-robed Sage—Foster Fort. To suddenly et such an extraordinary figure!
After introducing himself, Foster Fort looked at Alka and then opened his mouth to propose, "Very well. Shall we conduct a transaction?"
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