My eyes were stunned by what I saw.
Is this another dream? Or is this reality?
My reaction was strongly reflected on my face, to the extent that even Grace sitting beside me was surprised.
— Are you alright, lad?
This question shattered all my thoughts, bringing me back from the unconscious state I was in.
— I'm fine, but... my tattoo seemed to have changed on its own.
My tattoo is actually an hourglass with some cracks and fractures,
but now these fractures have noticeably decreased.
May I ask you about this, and about what you called a "tattoo"?
Grace looked at me with astonishment, but he sighed anyway, and the look of surprise disappeared from his face, then replied:
— So this is your tattoo...
Look, lad, I don't know who you are or how you ended up in that forest,
but it seems as if you were in another world different from ours.
Then he added with slight sarcasm:
— Lad, there is no one on this entire continent who doesn't know about tattoos.
Even ordinary people know the nature of tattoos and their bearers.
That's why I looked surprised at your words—I even thought you were lying,
but I can detect lies with my special ability.
He paused for a moment, then continued:
— Look, a tattoo is the embodiment of a human's soul or their true form.
You may be born with a tattoo, or you may acquire it after some time in your life,
and the maximum period to know if you have a tattoo or not is by the age of ten.
— A tattoo is an existential ability that cannot be given to or taken from others.
In short, it embodies a person's mind and soul, and harmonizes with their actions and deeds.
Tattoos cannot be destroyed or erased by any means.
— That's why your severed arm was healed.
Only the limb carrying the tattoo regenerates,
while other parts can only be regenerated through rare and very difficult methods.
Then he went on:
— As you know, not all humans are alike,
so tattoos have their own classifications, which are:
Harmonizers — Contractors — Transcenders.
— And of course, each classification contains different patterns and a hierarchical system based on strength,
but even the weakest ability can be unbeatable if used cleverly.
He fell silent for a bit, then said in a serious tone:
— There is a person known throughout the continent as the Stitcher of Darkness.
That person terrified the strongest of the continent's powerful,
and despite the simplicity of his ability, he is considered one of the strongest tattooed.
Even I, the leader of the Storm Squad, cannot match his strength.
— That's all you need to know as a tattooed person.
Do you have any other questions?
I began to feel some relief after learning all these things.
Truly, I am ignorant of much about this world and the nature of tattoos.
I must strengthen myself more...
so that I can know who I am, and what my role is in this world.
— I am very grateful to you, Mr. Grace.
Your words have greatly eased my anxiety, but... may I ask one thing?
— Go ahead, no need to even ask.
— Why did the appearance of my tattoo change slightly?
Is it because my hand was cut off, or for some other reason?
— Lad, first of all, I want to ask you:
Has your tattoo returned to its previous state?
I was surprised by his question, but as soon as I looked at my hand, I was shocked.
The tattoo that had some cracks...
had returned to its previous form, but worse—the fractures had increased.
— Ooh... from your expression, it seems something has changed, hasn't it?
— Yes... my tattoo has returned as it was, but the signs of damage have increased.
— Well, I'll explain to you, as this is normal.
— As I told you, tattoos are the embodiment of a person's inner self.
The source of a tattoo's power is your soul, mind, and harmony with your surroundings,
but it's closer to being an embodiment of the soul.
— So, the more you understand yourself, and the more you experience and comprehend the nature of your power and tattoo,
the stronger you become, until you reach a state we call the peak.
— The reason your tattoo changed the first time was your slight awareness of yourself,
and your beginning of a general understanding of tattoos.
But its shape is supposed to develop, not regress,
so your condition is considered strange.
— And perhaps, after learning all this,
the gap between your understanding of yourself and your understanding of your tattoo began to widen,
which caused it to return to its previous state.
Then he said quietly:
— In short... a tattoo is the embodiment of a person's soul.
The more you understand it, the stronger you become and the more control you gain over it.
He looked closely at my arm, then said:
— And from this strange tattoo of yours...
I believe you are a Transcender.
I asked curiously:
— And what is a Transcender?
— Transcenders are people with extremely high abilities.
They possess rare and unique powers, sometimes defying logic.
They are very few, to the extent that I have never met one in my life.
Even the king of our continent... is not a Transcender.
I felt great enthusiasm as I looked at my tattoo,
but at the same time, a hidden fear took hold of me—fear of the dangers of this power,
and that people might seek to kill me one day because of it.
— I am truly grateful for everything you've done, Mr. Grace.
You are a kind and compassionate person.
He laughed loudly:
— Hahahaha! Don't worry, I haven't done much anyway.
Then he asked me:
— Lad... how did you end up in the Monster Shrine?
— You mean the forest, right?
— Yes, that forest is called the Monster Shrine,
and it is one of the most dangerous forests in the Central Continent.
— It is divided into four levels, from first to fourth,
and no one knows what lies in its depths,
as no one with sufficient strength has reached there.
— The furthest we have reached is the third level,
and beyond that, only one person has gone...
and he had only one sentence on his lips:
"White fire created monsters more terrifying than any creature my eyes have ever seen...
that is the only beauty I shall not seek."
— So your presence in the second area, in that condition...
is sheer madness.
Then he looked at me and asked:
— Lad... what is your name?
The question weighed heavily on my chest,
as if the burdens of this entire world were placed upon my shoulders.
Pain squeezed my head, then slowly began to fade,
until I finally grasped the truth...
that I... am without...
a name...