Creation system

Mitch’s healing magic flowed through his body, mending torn muscles and closing shallow cuts from the fierce battle.

Beside him, Leya presented a more concerning sight, angry red burn marks painted her arms and torso like a cruel canvas, her clothes charred and crumbling in places where the flames had been most intense.

"Hold still," Mitch murmured, placing his glowing hands over the worst of her injuries. The healing energy pulsed between them, a soft blue radiance that seemed to drink in the burns like water on parched earth.

Fortunately, his dimensional pocket space contained more spare clothing for exactly this kind of situation. As his magic worked, Leya’s skin gradually returned to its natural color, unmarred and smooth as if the fire had never touched her.

"Better?" he asked, examining his handiwork with satisfaction.

Leya flexed her arms experimentally, then grinned. "Good as new!"

With their injuries tended to, they turned their attention to the goblin’s crude hut. The hut stood like a patchwork monument to scavenged survival, weathered wooden planks held together with strips of hide, animal pelts stretched taut over gaps in the walls.

The structure emanated the musty scent of old leather and woodsmoke, punctuated by less pleasant odors they preferred not to identify.

At the hut’s center sat their prize: a wooden chest that immediately captured their attention.

Both adventurers felt that familiar feeling of anticipation, the addictive thrill that came with potential treasure.

The chest itself was a work of rustic artistry, its surface carved with intricate patterns of intertwining branches and delicate leaves.

Mitch lifted the lid with careful reverence, and both peered inside.