In the heart of the demon-guarded mine, nestled amidst the jagged rock formations and illuminated by flickering torchlight were the living quarters of the guards—a makeshift encampment that resembled a cluster of weather-beaten tents.
Constructed from coarse canvas and reinforced with sturdy wooden poles, the tents stood strong. Each tent bore the unmistakable signs of wear and tear, their surfaces stained with dirt and grime from years of use in the harsh environment of the mine.
John got close to one of the tents and peeked into it. Inside were only crude wooden stools and rough-hewn tables and piles of furs and blankets
"Good, this one's empty!" John said as he aimed his palm at the bottom of the tent.
"[Magic Intermediate] Flame!" He said and a flame was released from his palm. Instantly, the entire tent caught fire
He wasn't yet however as he did the sand to several other tents before running away.
