All taken from the ape.
Her gaze passed over the jade disk—briefly.
Then the sword—
dismissively.
But—
it stopped.
On the staff.
The brown staff floated closer, rotating slowly in the air.
Her turquoise eyes sharpened, locking onto it.
"…Out of everything that monkey had…"
Her voice lowered slightly.
"…this is the most interesting."
She reached out, her energy brushing along its surface.
A faint hum answered.
Subtle—but real.
"…A tool that can cut off someone's connection to their own artifact…"
A small pause.
Her grip tightened slightly.
"…Even if it's temporary…"
Her eyes narrowed as she felt it.
"…I could still sense my connection when it was used on me."
A faint smirk appeared.
"…But in the middle of a fight…"
Her eyes gleamed.
"…temporary is more than enough."
She spun the staff once, testing its balance—its weight.
"…Disrupting control at the right moment…"
A quiet exhale.
"…decides everything."
The smile on her lips deepened.
"…This…"
A slight tilt of her head.
"…is dangerous."
Not fear.
Appreciation.
Her grip relaxed—but her interest didn't.
"…I like it."
Without hesitation—
the brown staff drifted aside.
Set apart.
Not discarded—
but reserved.
Her attention shifted.
The jade disk rose next.
Spinning slowly before her, its surface smooth—intricate patterns faintly visible beneath the jade.
"…This is interesting too."
Her eyes traced the lines, feeling the structure behind it.
"…A formation-type artifact."
She tapped it lightly, and the faintest ripple of energy answered.
"…Seamless activation…"
A small pause.
"…offense *and* defense."
Her lips curved slightly.
"…Flexible."
Not flashy—
but reliable.
"…I like tools like this."
Without wasting time, she sent the jade disk into her storage pouch.
Kept.
Then—
the sword.
It hovered briefly—plain compared to the others.
Her gaze barely lingered.
"…Low-tier Earth-grade."
A quiet exhale.
"…Nothing special."
No attachment. No interest.
It vanished into her pouch without another thought.
And then—
the staff returned.
Floating before her once more.
Closer this time.
Her eyes sharpened.
Serious now.
"…Let's see…"
A thin strand of her divine sense extended, wrapping around the staff—
probing.
Searching.
And there—
the imprint.
The ape's mark.
Faint—but stubborn.
"…Hmph."
Her eyes closed.
Focus deepened.
Then—
she pressed.
Her divine sense tightened—
eroding.
Grinding.
The imprint resisted—flickering—pushing back weakly.
But without its owner—
it couldn't hold.
Time passed.
Minutes.
Then—
cracks formed.
The imprint fractured—
then collapsed.
Silently.
Gone.
The staff trembled once—
then stilled.
Clean. Unbound.
Her eyes opened, a faint gleam within them.
"…Done."
No strain. No difficulty.
She reached out, gripping the staff properly this time.
And for a brief moment—
the cave felt different.
Subtly.
Like something had shifted into her control.
Her smile returned—slow.
"…Now…"
A light twirl of the staff—
testing it again—
but this time—
as its owner.
"…you're mine."
The fox's smile deepened slightly—
but she didn't move immediately.
"…Right."
A quiet breath left her—measured, controlled.
"…First things first."
The brown staff hovered before her, suspended in the air—steady, waiting.
Her eyes softened—not with emotion, but with focus.
A thread of divine sense slipped forward.
Not forceful this time.
Precise. Controlled.
It touched the staff—
and sank in.
Slowly.
Carefully.
She didn't rush it.
This wasn't about breaking.
This was about *claiming.*
Her consciousness spread through the inner structure, feeling every layer—every pathway—every hidden mechanism woven into the artifact.
"…So this is how you're built…"
A faint murmur.
The staff responded subtly—a low hum resonating from within, as if acknowledging her presence.
Then—
she began.
Her imprint formed not as a single mark, but as a weave.
Thread by thread, her will embedded itself into the core of the staff—replacing, overwriting, becoming the new center.
Time passed.
Quietly. Uninterrupted.
Four minutes.
Then—
her eyes opened.
A faint gleam within them.
"…Done."
The staff trembled slightly—
then stilled.
Completely.
The connection was absolute.
No resistance. No delay.
Only obedience.
A slow, satisfied smile spread across her face.
"…Now that's better."
The staff rotated once in the air, responding instantly—as if it had always belonged to her.
No lag. No hesitation.
Her presence flowed through it seamlessly.
"…Let's see what you can really do now."
Not curiosity.
Expectation.
She didn't rush.
She stood still—thinking.
Then—
her body armor appeared.
Not fully.
The defensive layers peeled away, fading—leaving only the wings behind her.
They shimmered faintly—light, responsive, tethered to her will.
The brown staff lifted.
Hovered.
Then—
she guided it forward.
A slow motion.
Deliberate.
The staff brushed against the wings.
Soft.
But the effect—
was immediate.
The connection—
cut.
The wings flickered, unstable—their glow dimming slightly, as if something essential had been severed.
The fox's eyes sharpened—
feeling it.
No surprise.
Only confirmation.
She didn't move.
Didn't interfere.
She waited.
Counting silently.
The wings remained—but distant now. Unresponsive. Like something no longer hers.
Then—
a shift.
Faint—but clear.
The connection returned.
Smoothly.
As if nothing had happened.
The wings stabilized instantly—light returning to full strength.
The fox exhaled softly.
"…Thirty seconds… a little over."
Her gaze flicked to the staff.
"…It only disrupts the connection for about half a minute."
A small pause.
Then—
a slow smile.
"…That's not bad at all."
Her eyes gleamed—calculating.
"In a fight…"
A quiet breath.
"…that's more than enough to decide life and death."
The staff spun once in the air—obedient, silent—
deadly.
"…Yeah."
Her smile lingered.
"…I really like this one."
The staff slowed—
then stilled.
"…Later."
With a thought, it vanished into her storage pouch—sealed away, but not forgotten.
Her focus shifted.
The jade disk rose once more, floating before her, turning slowly in the air.
This time—
her gaze was sharper.
Not curiosity.
Intent.
"…Let's clean this one too."
A thin strand of divine sense extended, touching the surface—then slipping inward.
Immediately—
she felt it.
The imprint.
Unlike the staff, this one was lighter—but more intricate.
Layered.
"…A formation-type tool…"
Her voice lowered slightly.
"…Of course it would be more complex."
She didn't force it.
Didn't rush.
Instead, her divine sense spread carefully, tracing each line, each embedded pathway—understanding before acting.
Then—
she pressed.
Not violently.
Precisely.
Her will slid between the layers—separating, unraveling—breaking the structure of the ape's imprint piece by piece.
Time passed.
Minutes.
The resistance flickered—unstable without its owner.
"…Break."
A quiet command.
And—
it gave.
The imprint shattered—collapsing inward—
gone.
The jade disk dimmed briefly, as if resetting—
then stabilized.
Clean.
Unclaimed.
Her eyes opened slowly.
"…Done."
But she didn't stop there.
Another thread of divine sense moved in—
this time smoother.
More controlled.
She began weaving her own imprint into it—layer by layer, matching its complexity, fitting perfectly into its structure.
Time passed.
Not long—
but deliberate.