With a small smile, Atticus studied the armor before him. It was sleek and refined, without the slightest hint of imperfection.
'Let's see.'
He placed his palm on it and channeled his will. The armor lit up with a faint crimson glow, thin streaks of light coursing smoothly across its surface.
'It works.'
Holding back his thrill, he turned toward Garvin, who was quietly watching him with an expectant gaze.
He gave a small nod.
"It's good. My will flows through it without any problems. You did a good job."
Garvin smiled faintly.
"…it's nothing."
"Has anyone tested it yet?"
"No, I wanted you to see it first."
"Alright. Have someone test it and check if anything needs adjustment."
"Okay."
As Atticus turned away, he paused when he noticed Whisker standing before a full-length mirror, studying his reflection.
The man was dressed in a pure white, tight-fitting suit, his hair neatly trimmed and carefully combed.
