Chapter 9: Trap Disarming
Back near the shelter, Kivas crouched near the chest with her knees in the dirt, her eyes narrowed.
It sat there quietly, as if it hadn't just spawned out of nowhere and got dragged. Just a box. Wood with metal trim. Rounded top. Classic fantasy nonsense.
She reached out and rapped her knuckle against its side. Solid. No hidden pulse. No whisper of magic—at least, not the kind she could detect by sight alone.
"Alright," she muttered. "Let's assume this isn't just a random chest for decoration."
She leaned closer, inspecting the seam between the lid and the base. There was no keyhole. No latches. Just a seamless divide running horizontally through it. Weird, but understandable.
The locking mechanism—or lack thereof—made it look like the two pieces were just pressed together, no barrier or fastening keeping them shut.
"Not even a stupid padlock?" she whispered. "You're making this too easy..."
Her eye twitched.
She wasn't about to forget the trap-related stats from her Well of the Soul. Detect, Disarm, Evade—all sitting right there like flashing neon warnings.
No lock. No security. Too easy in perception.
Which probably meant it was bait.