Ferra finished six replacement ribs from unused palace alloy while Didi held the claim's suspension through both separate contacts.
The forge's last seam cooled beside the frame, and Hajin offered his right arm past the patient's narrow guide.
The previous casing lay quarantined in its cloth above the orchard record, and none of its parts went back on.
"One distributed impact," Ferra said, numbering the fresh ribs before checking their expansion channels beneath his injured forearm.
"Not one fight, not one extraction, and definitely not one more heroic idea after the first shock turns these into teeth."
"Wow, great sales pitch," Hajin drawled, turning his wrist through the cleared range.
"Then I'll ask the wall one good question, the kind that makes it answer before my hand does."
She tapped the fitting nearest his elbow with her nail, "Ask without an extra twist, I'm tired of your arm trying to become my longest project."
