A shower of small arcs jumps between your hand and the staff, and it leaps into your grasp as if magnetized. The full brunt of it’s barely contained power hits you like an oil tanker in that moment, easily eclipsing the comparatively paltry amount you’d stolen from it. But the sheer volume is prevented from entering you by a razor-thin layer of an all-too-familiar possessive force from deep within the staff, jealously holding the power all to itself.. Said familiar force was also trying to claw it’s ill-gotten magical gains back from it’s even more ill-gotten holder, using the same exact means you did. And getting the same exact result in turn.