The last thing he did was check the weapons and orbs he took from the ruins.
As he opened his pocket space, they rained into his room. He had to close it to stop the outflow with a speechless expression. It was a flood.
They were all treasures and all looked in good quality, with each having a hue of violet either at the hilt, full body, or a part. It was like a legendary blacksmith had been trapped inside the ruins and forced to make them all, and among them, a few stood out.
They glowed with intensity as if they demanded attention, and those few were what he went for.
He reached for a sleek, unassuming armor, its surface pulsing faintly. As his fingers brushed it, the armor dissolved into a black liquid, seeping into his Red Sun uniform. It reformed as a subtle, obsidian-like pattern across the fabric, blending seamlessly with the uniform, unlike the usual metal armor worn over the uniform.
The sensation even gave a sense of comfort, as if the armor enhanced his very being.
