Thomas circled behind it. There, carved into the dark stone with the unmistakable precision of a high-level superpower, was a faint, glowing red "X." It pulsed with a dying light, a lingering ghost of the person who had left it there years—or perhaps centuries—ago.
"It should be here."
Thomas followed the map's final directive. He turned toward the mountain's heart and took five long, deliberate steps. He stopped, looking down at a patch of ground that looked utterly unremarkable—just a collection of grey dirt, loose shale, and scrubby mountain weeds.
"Time to dig."
He hesitated, looking at his hands. His corrosive superpower was a scalpel made of acid; if he used it to melt the earth, he risked dissolving the very prize he had travelled worlds to find. He needed a tool.
After a frantic search of the immediate area, he found a discarded, rusted piece of rectangular metal—perhaps a fragment of a lost "Innovation" or a piece of mining equipment.
