Before he knew it, more Spirit Furs surged over and wove themselves into another Fur Hand.
The two Fur Hands began firing more Ash Bullets at the poor ceiling, just as Ruger normally cast the Grey Bullet Spell with both hands. Perhaps the last advantage of choosing this spell was that he could practice it freely without even moving from where he lay on the floor. After all, even the Fireball Spell, unleashed in such a relentless barrage, would inevitably reduce the three-story mushroom building to two amid all the commotion.
Each Fur Hand consisted of three thousand Spirit Furs, including five hundred Spirit-Suckers, putting all the newly born special Spirit Furs to use.
Gradually, Ruger stopped making any conscious effort at all. Everything came naturally. Those were his hands, and this was his own unique spell, no different from any other day.
The two Fur Hands each condensed five Ash Bullets at their fingertips, then fired all ten in a single volley.
Ruger seemed like an unconscious Alchemical Puppet that knew nothing but endlessly practicing spells.
Yet everything was quietly changing.
That included Ruger's seemingly sluggish mind.
He was waiting for an opportunity, one that might not present itself this time. For now, taking the Grey Bullet Spell as an example, the two Fuzzy Hands did indeed ease the strain of casting, but they did not solve the fundamental problem. The assistance they provided was still insufficient.
He could already condense ten Ash Bullets with both hands at once. Under normal circumstances, with his dense, stable mental power and his control over it, he felt he could condense around fourteen simultaneously. But he had never done so, because he only had two hands. Condensing another four out of thin air while forming ten with his hands was hardly an