"...Before I became a tailor, my brother and I were just ordinary Sarkaz who worked our way up step by step to become what we are now."
Theresa's gaze fell upon Gerald's severed foot, and undisguised disappointment filled her eyes. "Although I'm better with certain techniques, and my swordsmanship is inferior to my brother's, it's enough for self-defense. It can also somewhat deceive enemies who rely on their physical strength to attack us by force."
How had things turned out like this?
"I never thought this would happen. I'm sorry." Seeing Pegasus retrieve his severed foot from afar with the wind, apparently considering how to avoid being scolded, she hurriedly said, "I can heal you. You don't need to worry."
Dust slowly wound around Gerald's severed stump like soft ribbons, like warm breaths, gently yet swiftly covering the broken area.
Under her guidance, those invisible particles gradually seeped into his wound. As the Demon King's fingers trembled faintly, an imperceptible glimmer spread around the break, like stardust scattered across the night sky.
If ordinary treatment forced tissue to heal, and Banshee Incantation used the soul as a foundation to mend wounds, then Theresa's method was to weave the shattered pieces back together bit by bit. Like a tailor repairing damaged cloth, she used countless tiny particles of dust to fill in the missing portions, slowly closing the wound until the absent part took shape once more.
The path of the dust was clearly visible, like delicate stitches precisely joining the severed section back into place. Under the pull of the particles, flesh and blood gradually regained their vitality, as if the injury had never existed.
The wind beneath Gerald's feet trembled slightly. He could feel an unfamiliar warmth pouring into every limb and bone, gradually reconnecting with his body.
But