Sasaki's fingers danced lightly over the elder's neck, just above the slave mark.
His touch was gentle, as if he were teasing out the threads of a delicate woolen fabric. Each strand of mana that made up the slave mark was entwined with the elder's very being, chaining him to a life of servitude.
As Sasaki set about lifting the curse, it was like he was untangling a knitted sweater, one thread at a time. He pinpointed the beginning, where the mana threads were knotted together, and took hold of the first one.
With focused attention and a steady grip, he started to pull.
The thread of mana was stubborn, clinging to its woven trap as if it were a wool thread snagged on a sharp needle.
Sasaki's actions were careful and precise, making sure not to fray the intricate pattern. Gradually, the thread began to give way under his skilled touch.
As Sasaki freed each thread, the complex design of the slave mark began to come apart.
