Chapter 438

Chapter 438: Relations!

Thinking like this, Votayl entered the weapons room.

He couldn’t help but nod in appreciation, seeing the luxury around the store. Even the Ashamba floor used in endless quantity didn’t stand a chance against the extravagance present in the weapons room.

Votayl’s eyes then fell on the countless mural painted all across the room. He could feel that there was something different about the murals, and they weren’t some ordinary paintings.

But no matter what, he couldn’t peer over that feeling. So he instead started looking for others to check his conjecture about them being extraordinary.

Hartol, who had been standing a step behind Votayl, also looked at the murals.

Hartol was a mace user, so when his eyes came across the first mace mural, he suddenly felt something clicking in his mind.

He felt himself getting attracted to the mural, and soon, his eyes turned blank.

Votayl, who had been looking across the murals, suddenly had a shocked expression on his face, seeing the sudden change around Hartol. Hartol wasn’t only his bodyguard, but he was also his uncle(Mother’s brother).

If not for life present inside Hartol, Votayl would’ve thought that he had died.

He then followed his eyesight and looked at the mural.

In the mural, a warrior of an unknown race was fighting a warrior of their own race, but the opponent was larger. One had a mace, while the other had a sword.

In the next scene, the warrior using his mace smashed his opponent into smithereens with just a single strike. Even the sword used by the opponent failed to survive the attack and snapped into several pieces as a result.

Votayl didn’t find anything special from the mural since he wasn’t a mace user but a sword user. Since his uncle had immersed himself in it, he decided to wait for Hartol to come around first, and only then would he enter the training area.

Since Votayl had nothing else to do but stand there waiting for Hartol to come around, Votayl started searching for sword murals that would help him get immersed in it.

Time flew by.

No matter how many sword murals, Votayl couldn’t get immersed like his uncle. Only his intuition of the murals being extraordinary stayed in his head, and nothing extra, while Hartol was still immersed in that mace mural.

The blank eyes of Hartol suddenly had a change as colors returned to them, and similarly, Hartol, who had gotten frozen in a spot, moved, bringing a stop to Votayl’s search for sword murals.

“What had happened?” Votayl asked Hartol, with a hint of concern in his voice.

“I don’t know. When I looked at the mural, I felt as if it was calling me inside. No matter how much I attempted to resist it, I couldn’t do anything but get forced to it. After that, I don’t remember anything, young master,” Hartol shared his experience.

“Eh!” He then suddenly exclaimed in surprise, bringing a questioning look to Votayl’s face.

“Young master, I feel that I’ve learned something new, but I can’t put my fingers on it,” Hartol could understand what Votayl wanted to ask, so he honestly told him.

“No need to push yourself,” Votayl responded. He believed Hartol completely as Hartol had been with him since his birth, and Honaer rarely betrayed or lied to their close friends or families.

“Let’s go for the training,” Votayl then told Hartol and the followers that had been waiting for all this time without even daring to speak a word.

Votayl then took a step forward and proceeded to search for the pillar denoting the sword. The attendants and Hartol followed him and went their own ways since all of them used different weapons.

Hartol was the first to find his pillar as the mace were in the starting round of circles. He then did what the store owner had told them to do to enter the training area.

He found the needle next to the imprinted mace pattern straight away.

He then pushed his finger on the needle. He used force since he had a pseudo-divine physique, but he couldn’t be any more stupid to do this.

The needle pierced his skin like it was passing through nothing, while the excessive force used by Hartol resulted in the needle coming out through his finger.

Hartol then noticed something strange, the minor injury that should’ve healed at the first moment had no change, while drops of his blood streaked down the pillars and then the floor.

The blood failed to touch the floor as before it could do it, an invisible pressure attacked it and burned it to ashes.

Hartol, with a surprised expression, removed his fingers from the needle right away. The injury that wasn’t healing healed straight away, but Hartol wasn’t there to see it.

The moment, Hartol moved his finger away, his consciousness left the body and entered the infinite space inside the training area. Whereas a golden barrier covered his body to stop it from facing any harm during his training.

The blood that had been dripping from the pillar also disappeared, making the columns as clean as before.

All the other members in the group had also entered the space inside the training area.

***

After Votayl and his group left, Aakesh returned to the screen still running in front of him.

“It’s the last day of this torture. After today, you’re free from me, but if you want to come to me, you only need to call me,” A figure hooded in a dark cloak commented.

Pucchi, who had her eyes swelling due to crying all day, glared at the hooded figure with hatred and disgust in her eyes.

“Don’t need to be angry. I never forced you. It was your choice to do this to your sister’s son, your own nephew,” The hooded figure laughingly responded. In the end, his voice contained disgust for Pucchi’s action.

Pucchi’s eyes turned red from anger, hearing the statement. It made her remember how much an evil person she is?

“No need to stay in the past. If it makes you feel better, even if you’ve refused, we still would’ve done this with the boy,” The hooded figure responded and then left the room.

“Forgive me, Rutthi,” Tears started dripping out of Pucchi’s eyes again as she asked for forgiveness from her sister for snatching her child and doing this.