Alaric moved toward the chest.
Studied it for moment up close. The iron reinforcements were old, lock mechanism was complex, layers of essence formations woven into the metal itself. The wood had darkened with time to near-black.
He raised his fist. Fire essence coating his knuckles.
THUD!
The chest didn't budge. Didn't even scratch. The iron bands absorbed the impact like it was nothing.
He tried earth essence next. Pressed both palms flat against the lid and pushed, channeling dense, crushing force downward into the mechanism, trying to break the lock from above rather than attack it directly.
The lock pulsed once. Rejected him.
Wind blades.
Nothing.
The formations inside the lock simply dissolved his attempts before they could interact with anything meaningful.
He stepped back. Crossed his arms. Stared at the chest with growing frustration.
Burning it won't work. Crushing it won't work. Picking it won't work.
So what—
He paused.
What exactly am I doing?
