Kestrel dug up the box buried in the sand, delicately brushing away the grains that clung to it.
"What's this?" Birdie leaned in for a look.
The box appeared old, made of ordinary wood. Faint traces of weird symbols, weathered by time, were still visible on its surface. A few hollow pits suggested that gems might have once adorned it, but now they were long gone.
Clutching the old wooden box, Kestrel beamed, examining it closely before happily stuffing it into her backpack.
Birdie found it a bit odd. The box might be old, but it was brought up from the seabed, presumably to hold precious energy stones. It shouldn't have been overlooked by everyone so easily.
They were alphas, known for their keen observation skills. They rarely missed anything. Yet, everyone, including Birdie, hadn't noticed this wooden box, as if it were just an ordinary thing, meant to be unseen by all.
"It's like something icy has swept past us, leading everyone to ignore this box," Birdie thought sharply.
