"A Slaver?" Eliot echoed, his brow deeply furrowed.
"Yes, that's what that mark means. Someone who enslaves others," she explained, her gaze fixed on the symbol on his hand. "In the past, it was mostly royalty who awakened this ability—a gift often granted to them by the malevolent deities they sacrificed to."
Eliot was seated beside her in a silent, secluded part of the forest, sustaining himself solely on the remnants of his mana. Once again, his mana had been siphoned to almost nothing within seconds of connecting with the other girl. At this point, relying on his bloodline ability was no longer feasible; it would only get him killed in a fight. He had to find a solution, or the slave seal would soon become unusable.
"Since you already have that mark, it only means you have enslaved someone," the girl continued, making Eliot frown even harder.
