Rey's hands moved with desperate precision, tearing through packed containers and enchanted bags.
His enhanced perception scanned each item in milliseconds—Grade 3 healing amulet, discarded; Mid Sequence Spirit Art scroll, useless; crystallized Moonlight, irrelevant.
The treasures that others would kill for meant nothing if he couldn't stop the Chaos corruption devouring what remained of his essence.
'There has to be something. The Desgarrons accumulated knowledge for centuries. Techniques for every conceivable situation. There must be—'
His hand closed around a scroll case he'd overlooked before.
The containment was different from the others—sealed with multiple layers of protective enchantments, the kind reserved for Techniques so dangerous or valuable that even possessing them was a crime.
