Chapter 636: The Mysterious Encounter (3)
<Energy integration complete. Tattoo resonance stratum plus one. Additional functions locked—analysis pending.> Rodion’s tone had softened, almost respectful.
Eyes open, Mikhailis flexed fingers. Sensation normal—maybe sharper. Colors in the chamber seemed fractionally richer, as though someone upped saturation by a notch only he could perceive. He could smell the mineral thread in the air now, a metallic tang beneath cedar.
He rose carefully, mindful not to wrench the delicate rapport. Moss flecks clung to knees; he brushed them away, paused to feel their softness, marveling at how present every tiny touch felt.
"Well," he breathed, throat raw from quiet awe, "that was... enlightening."
Rodion’s sarcasm landed like a welcome nudge.
<Bravo. Oscar-worthy poker face. Perhaps next time add jazz-hands.>
A laugh burst free before he could censor it, bright and boyish. "Next time I might faint instead," he confessed in a stage-whisper, then straightened as fabric rustled at corridor’s mouth.
Two robed guardians glided into view, hoods shadowing faces. They stopped when they sensed him watching—perfect statues again. No sign they’d noticed the intimacy just performed in plain sight.
He offered a casual nod, the type nobles trade at garden parties. Nothing to see here.
Sleeve tugged lower; tattoo vanished into shadows. Runes along hallway walls stayed dormant—unlike earlier, they didn’t flare as he passed. Permission granted. Thank you, he thought toward the root, unsure if it heard. A warmth pulsed once beneath skin—response or imagination, he couldn’t tell.
Somewhere farther off a bell chimed, silver on wood. Summons. He smoothed hair, wiped moss dust from lapels, composing the mask of an unruffled scholar. Boots tapped measured rhythm, cloak swayed in dignified arcs.
Rodion flicked a note into the corner of his sight: