Rakshasa sat alone in her room, the environment silent, devoid of distractions, illuminated only by a soft light that highlighted the table before her. On the dark surface, two manuals lay open, positioned side by side with almost ritualistic care.
They were not ordinary books, nor something one would find in any collection.
The paper had an ancient, dense texture, carrying a weight that came not only from the written content, but from the history behind it.
The titles were engraved with precision: Dance of the Demonic Sword and Method of Divine Blood Body Enhancement.
Her gaze slowly scanned the pages, not like someone reading for the first time, but like someone who already knew every line and yet needed to revisit it attentively.
