The scene of a hand poking a needle into a small ball before poking it into the back of a man, the scene of a pair of hands kneading some herbs to make a salve, the scene of a goatskin hung on the walls, containing some tattoo designs, etc. rushed into her head. The Shishya grunted in pain, her eyes turning red while her legs lost their balance.
What she had just witnessed, the scene of the presence in the ball being imbued in the man by the shaman step by step, before using up all the contents in it while greatly changing the presence of the man; this scene surfaced, forming the dominant portion of the scenes, acting as a conductor for the remainder to drill into her mind.
Knowledge, experiences, insights that she hadn't come across, all drilled into her mind, settling within her subconscious, as if they were memories she had honed through all her life. The voice of the teenager echoed in her mind once again, disjointed, like a being separated from reality.
