The arm's ability

Rachel raised her hands, interlaced her fingers, and felt the sensation through them—the new left hand felt slightly weaker than the flesh and blood of her right hand, but it was enough.

"How sturdy is it?" Rachel tapped the back of her left hand with her right fingers, making a crisp sound. "It won't break easily, will it?"

"In principle, extraordinary items are very difficult to damage." Sharf crossed his arms, watching the girl in front of him play with his new limb. "You're probably not Beyonder skilled in close combat, right? Then this arm should be tougher than your body. Uh—I don't know about the physical strength of Demigod. Anyway, if it breaks, you can come to me for repairs."

"That's enough." Rachel clenched her fist, frowning as she looked at the tiny gears protruding from her knuckles. "Is it really okay to leave these important parts exposed like this? Won't water get in?"

"Don't treat it with the conventional thinking you would use for normal mechanical products." Sharf smiled, clearly having faced many similar questions from customers. "It's an extraordinary item infused with Beyonder Characteristic; it won't rust or jam even if it's submerged in seawater for a whole year."

"As for the parts—" Sharf scratched his chin, took an unlabeled bottle of liquor from the cabinet, uncorked it, and took a sip: he had been abstaining from alcohol and women these past few days to rush the production of this arm. "As I said before, if the enemy's attack is accurate and powerful enough to damage the joint parts, it will definitely injure your right hand's fingers as well."

"Comparatively speaking, using this new prosthetic arm to block certain attacks might be a better option," Sharf analyzed shrewdly. "Even if this arm suffers irreversible damage, we can simply replace it with another one. But if your right hand suffers irreversible damage—I guess you wouldn't want both of your hands replaced with extraordinary items."

"I'm just a little worried that some Beyonder skilled at manipulating special substances might find a weakness in it." Rachel explained as she raised her left hand. Tiny ice crystals rapidly solidified in the gaps of her black metal left hand joints, jamming the gears that were turning, preventing them from continuing to operate. "You see, what if something like sand gets into the reeds?"

"If it's not man-made, don't worry about it. The gears have a lot of power; sand and small insects will be crushed and expelled. Things without extraordinary power that don't stick to it won't stay on this item for long. So you can confidently eat roasted meat with your left hand without getting it greasy," Sharf joked. "And if it is man-made, don't worry too much either—these gears and the mysterious symbols on the outer ring are used to maintain its Beyonder Ability. If it gets stuck, it just means you can't use the abilities your left arm naturally possesses; it won't affect your fingers' normal grip."

"And if something truly happens that renders it inoperable—" Sharf quickly finished a bottle of wine and set it aside, "That's a problem because you yourself can't defend against that ability."

His meaning was clear: if even Demigod like you can't defend against or resist such penetrating power, don't expect a mere Artisan like me to solve it for you.

Ah, why do I feel like I've become the unscrupulous client? — Rachel looked at Sharf, who was emboldened by alcohol, and didn't pursue the question further, "So, what are its abilities?"

"Uh, it can penetrate doors or safes that aren't protected by Spirituality, uh, or boxes." Sharf chuckled awkwardly.

"And then?" Rachel looked up at him.

"That's it." Sharf shrugged. "You said the point was to use it as a replacement for an arm, not to unleash Beyonder Ability."

"Well, I should have guessed—" Rachel shrugged. She hadn't had high expectations for Sharf anyway; she was already quite satisfied with having something to replace her arm. Besides, with only a Sequence 8 Trickmaster trait, even the best Artisan couldn't create the top-tier equipment she needed. "Can it ' Door Opening '?"

"No, only this arm can penetrate the barrier. It can't carry anyone, nor can it let you go through with it." Sharf's expression was a little embarrassed, but there was nothing he could do about it. As a deserter and a wild Beyonder, his level of skill was already quite impressive.

"Can I take things with it?" Rachel asked. "Like, I can use it to steal gold coins from a safe or something."

"Items that can be completely covered by your hand can be taken out, and items that cannot be completely covered by your palm cannot be taken out," Sharf thought to himself, worried that Skadi would be dissatisfied, while also thinking to himself that Demigod like him was actually eyeing the meager gold coins in someone else's safe. "You can compare them yourself."

"Okay, I understand." Rachel looked down at her hands, which were quite small, matching her current figure.

If you were to use this thing to steal gold coins from a safe, you could probably only steal three or four at most— Rachel twitched her lips, said nothing more, stood up, and pulled out a note she had already written in her pocket to give him, "My messenger's summoning incantation and summoning ritual procedure. If you encounter any problems you can't solve, you can write to me for help."

"Thank you." Sharf accepted it with a pleased expression. This way, his safety would be even more assured.

Sharf had declined many guests in the past to ensure security and confidentiality. "Are you leaving?"

"Yes, we'll have a chance to meet again." Rachel stood up, picked up her hat with her metal arm, and waved it at him. "Goodbye, Mr. Sharf."

"Alright, goodbye, Your Excellency Skadi." Judging from Sharf's expression, he seemed to still regret not having had a closer encounter with this Demoness.

Noticing the suppressed desire and despondency in Sharf's eyes, Rachel gave him a meaningful look, pondering whether she should use her Fascination to completely turn him into her loyal subordinate, but after thinking it over, she decided against it.

In terms of manipulating others, Demoness are certainly no match for Spectator Pathway — Fascination can only make the target fall in love with them, but a person's desires are free— Rachel had previously seen Demoness Pathway players complaining on game forums about how NPCs were too unfair: after successfully Fascination an NPC, she was killed by the NPC because that NPC had necrophilia.

Sharf might become extremely uncontrollable after being Fascination, and besides, he's part of the Hanged Man's network. If I Fascination the Artisan, I'll definitely incur the Hanged Man's suspicion and disgust.

Rachel's petite body began to fade, and then, as if suddenly remembering something, before her body completely disappeared, she left behind a final reminder: "You'd better leave Bayam these next few days and hide at sea."

Watching Skadi teleport away without hesitation, Sharf first sighed with a hint of disappointment, then realized what she had meant by her warning. "What are you hiding for? Why did you leave Bayam these past few days? Could she be planning to cause trouble or do something unpleasant here?"

"How about we go on vacation first—" The man scratched his head and thought for a while, but finally decided to listen to Skadi.

suggestion.

"I need to take those extraordinary items with me. I can use Ritualistic Magic to create a simple seal first. Where should we go? Let me check the map." Sharf got busy again.

He doesn't have any close friends here, and he doesn't plan to inform his neighbors before leaving.

"Ambassador Becklund Jean Madin of Intis has disappeared, and the terrorist cult Aurora Order claimed responsibility—" On the street, newsboys waved their newspapers and shouted their wares. Klein pulled down his top hat, took out two pennies, and bought a newspaper.

"It really worked!" Klein felt a surge of joy and relief at surviving the ordeal, but thankfully, he had the Clown's control over his body and didn't show any problems on his expression.

" The Aurora Order indeed very reliable in this kind of thing, no wonder it has grown to such a large scale—" Klein folded the newspaper he had finished reading and held it in his hand, heading towards Crowley Old House.

Despite his deep abhorrence of the Aurora Order, Klein had to admit that their operational level was indeed top-tier compared to other cults.

"Are you going back?" A faint female voice sounded in his ear. Klein turned his head and saw a bodyguard in a long black dress, looking like a female ghost, reflected in the glass window of a coffee shop.

"I've been gone for two days," Klein replied in a low voice. " MI9 and the Machinery Hivemind came to my place, I..."

They observed the surrounding area but found nothing; the most dangerous part of the investigation was over.

"Furthermore, being away for too long will be considered abnormal," Klein sighed.

He wasn't afraid of being treated as a suspect; he was afraid that the officials, the Beyonder, would mistakenly believe he had been murdered or gone missing and begin actively "rescuing" the great Detective Sherlock Moriarty.

They would then happily discover that Sherlock Moriarty Detective Klein Moretti, the Nighthawks who died in Tingen City, look exactly alike— MI9 Klein Machinery Hivemind's cursory investigation might not have missed, but if they began to investigate more thoroughly, the discrepancy would be exposed sooner or later.

Becklund is dead, so it's necessary and safe for him to show up at this time— Klein opened the door, put his suitcase and the newspaper he was holding aside, and walked through the entryway into the living room.

"Fortunately, they still had some professional ethics and didn't steal any valuables—" Klein breathed a sigh of relief, "In a few days, we'll have to start getting Artisan to repair the damaged furniture and floors."

"There's a letter." The bodyguard's cold voice suddenly rang out behind Klein, startling him.

"A letter?" Klein turned his head curiously, and soon found an envelope with half of it sticking out from under the sofa. "Who sent it? How did it get in here—could it be from MI9 or the Machinery Hivemind?"

Klein walked to the sofa, pulled out the letter, and paused for a moment.

He saw the recipient's name written on the envelope.

27 Rose Street, Backlund Bridge District, Sherlock Moriarty 'Detective office.

In that instant, Klein subconsciously didn't feel anything, but then he felt his blood rush to his head and his whole body go numb. He used all of the Clown's body control abilities to prevent his expression from showing anything unusual, but he was sure that his pale face and sweaty palms had already revealed his inner horror to the bodyguard.

"Is there a curse?" The blonde woman rarely revealed herself; she floated in the air some distance away from Klein and asked expressionlessly. Klein knew that she deliberately revealed her location to show that she had no intention of using Invisibility to peek at the letter.

"No—it's a letter from a sworn enemy; we have a pre-arranged code." Klein's heart was pounding, but his tongue had already slurred Lie fluently. "I'm just horrified—he's clearly dead, yet he still sent this letter using a code only we know."

Klein knew that his unusual behavior must have been noticed by the bodyguard. If he pretended to be fine, it might arouse her curiosity. So, Klein chose to fabricate a seemingly believable bizarre event to fool her.

"Resurrecting the dead isn't impossible." The blonde bodyguard's eyes flickered slightly, like a doll's. "Do you need to be alone?"

"Thank you, please give me some time. I think this is still too much of a shock for me—" Klein clenched the envelope tightly in his palm, let out a wry smile, and said, "Uh, I'll go back to my room."

Seeing Klein's suggestion, the bodyguard in the black court dress nodded slightly. "Shout out if attacked."

Klein didn't even know how he got back to his room, nor did he know if he had responded to the bodyguard's question.

He returned to his desk in the room, half-lying there, and it took him about five minutes to regain his composure.

Klein took out the slightly crumpled envelope and tore it open with trembling hands.

The Clown possess an exceptional ability to control the intricacies of their bodies, and they also have the Beyonder Ability to attack with cards, making each Clown's fingers and wrists extremely flexible and stable.

There was a reason why Klein's hands were trembling like this.

Klein opened the envelope, set it aside, and began to read the letter.

The envelope was written with Klein's pseudonym and address in black simplified Chinese characters.

" Sharf, as a native, still underestimated the power of this arm—" Rachel infused her left hand, clad in a long black glove, with Spirituality activation power, reaching into a peculiar fruit that resembled a coconut. "Perhaps it's because his Sequence is too low; he can't imagine how those at a higher level wield their abilities."