With his hall deforming into mist, Hadrian didn't leave the space yet.
Glancing at a specific direction where a pile of objects were, he summoned the mystical box.
The pile of objects were those he'd carried into this space.
Right now, apart from the mystical box, there wasn't anything as important.
The books and remaining uniform he'd stolen from the mage schools back when he'd planned on infiltrating them, some brima — the rock one chewed on to keep one's mouth fresh and clean — some emergency monster meat and rock.
Like in the fight with the fiend, he might find himself in a situation without any rock to manipulate.
The pile was wrapped around with fog, which maintained their state, especially the emergency meat.
As the box spun in front of him, he studied its engravings.
It must be the witch's sorcery. Otherwise, a mystical artifact shouldn't be this averse to ownership change.
