Ruger raised an eyebrow and weighed the little pouch in his hand. This fellow was considerate enough to erase his own mark from the Storage Pocket.
With a stir of his Mental Power, he probed inside.
As he had guessed, it was a low-grade Storage Pocket with extremely limited space.
Before he could dwell on that, he frowned, the fur on his forehead gradually bunching together.
He saw a gem the size of a fist.
The moment he sensed the gem, he froze. It felt incredibly familiar, and countless thoughts flashed through his mind. Although he had never seen this gem before, he had seen something else that felt as though it shared the same origin.
The Storage Pocket also held some Magic Stones and other things, even two changes of clothes. It seemed to be a Storage Pocket currently in use. He had no interest in counting the Magic Stones and instead turned toward His Excellency Mahama's lovely little island.
After a brief silence, one booming crash after another erupted there. Clearly, the simple greetings were over and the enthusiastic exchange had begun. Together, they were reducing Mahama's little nest to even finer rubble, making the island flatter.
Ruger lamented that these fellows had arrived a few days too late. If Big Guy had still been here, as he had been a little while ago, things would have been even more entertaining.
He moved, smoothly switching spells into the more agile state of Nightmare Wings overlaid with Scorching Wings.
He flew into the sea breeze toward Mahama's little island.
As he flew, he continued observing. He was not flying at full speed.
The atmosphere earlier had been tense, and he had not intended to interfere, so naturally he had not rashly probed the three Wizards flying past him with