Oswald was reluctant touching it at first, but because he survived a witch and the devil himself, he gave it a try.
He squeezed the hand harder and harder, to not see any change on Ward's face. The pressure he exerted could've make all the bones in the palm snap and the blood escape from the tip of the fingers in a burst.
Yet nothing happened. It was solid, as hard as iron.
When he retracted his hand, Ward picked up more meat in his plate and shared some with Oswald. There was no effort made for him to move the unbreakable hand.
"I call it my lucky hand. I noticed it wouldn't get damaged after a sword hit it on a battlefield. Not a scratch, can you imagine how stunned I was?" He laughed. "I'm good as an instructor, because I don't hesitate to interfere during training sessions, but that's mostly because nothing can damage it. I'm glad my nails are not made with the same material though, I would've broken many teeth biting them."
