Is It Big Enough? Praise Me!

"The powerful hammer artifact was placed inside the magic box."

Dago continued examining the carvings with burning eyes, his spiritual power greedily caressing every tiny indentation on the Stele Tower like invisible tentacles.

In his eyes, those rough lines were no longer static pictures. They were a flowing record of history, the last lament left behind by a vanished civilization.

The scenes shifted to conversations between the Crown Dwarf and several other dwarves. Their expressions were anxious, their terror conveyed through the cold metal.

Beside them sat the magic box containing the hammer weapon. Distorted ripples were carved around it, as though desperately suppressing the violent power of laws within.

Dago examined several pictures in succession. The Crown Dwarf and the other dwarves remained in every scene, but the backgrounds grew increasingly devastated.

Goblins kept appearing around them, those greedy green creatures sweeping through like locusts.

There were also winged dragons unleashing their breath, driven by the instinctive hunger for energy of predators at the top of the food chain.

Even legendary creatures such as Cyclopes appeared, swinging clubs as they tried to smash the dwarves' city walls.

"Were they worried about goblins, dragons, and Cyclopes stealing or seizing the box?"

Dago's eyes flickered as his thoughts raced, building a model in his mind of the struggle for survival in an ancient age.

This was more than worry. It was the despair of a weak civilization condemned for possessing a treasure.

Judging by the scenes, the hammer emitted overwhelming energy fluctuations, like a torch in the night.

On reflection, all these legendary creatures did seem to have a penchant for collecting treasures—or rather, an instinct to devour concentrated masses of energy.

Apparently, even after the hammer was sealed inside the magic box, mere physical isolation could not block the senses