Gliding upon the presentation oakwood floor with her stylish black dress and leather boots, Avarita announced to the crowd.

"That leaves the final starter items sold out, the final exceptional quality tier 1 cloak going to bidder 734." Avarita did a flourishing bow to the man. "Now, my greatest patrons, shall we begin the main course? Perhaps we'll begin with a more anticipated item present in our middle lineup. The best informed should already know what I'm speaking of."

Multiple previously bored-looking nobles, merchants, master craftsmen, or even tier 3 hunters sat up straight. From this point forward, items even they would find valuable may appear. Although it would be more the minor merchants and middling tier 2 hunters on the edge of their seats—anxiety reaching their eyes—the things coming could redefine their families or odds of survival.

With a resounding clap, an item floated down to Avarita from above, appearing over the Interface Platforms to display its detail for all. Luke hadn't paid too much attention after his own two items sold, a glance at most. The fragile nonchalance was shattered already, while this particular item wouldn't suit him, its implications for what was to come transfixed his focus.

[Technique Scroll: Moonshadow Step]

Quality: Exceptional

Grants the initial knowledge and insight needed to learn this race-specific stealthy movement technique, copied from monic moon assassins. Briefly cloaks the user in lunar shadows while stepping. At higher ranks, one may step onto the air itself. The imprinted scroll legacy can modestly assist up to the bottom rung of Adept rank in the technique.

Requirements: First Agility Threshold, Monic Race, Tier 1.

Starting Bid: 25,000 Gold.

The Reaver gulped for a myriad of reasons. Veyri offhandedly mentioned these in the past, ways to learn a technique outside of a master like Musai teaching you, or self-insight. A Technique Scroll or Book.

Except, up until now, Luke had never seen one before. He supposed the dungeons he'd delved into simply lacked even the chance to drop anything of the sort. The racial component notwithstanding, the initial price tag offered its own sticker shock. Punctuating that, patrons practically shouted over one another to issue a bid.

"25,000 Gold."

"Insulting, you call that a bid? 35,000 gold." A golden cheek runed monic said, fingers erratically rapping about on his chair arms, a razor-sharp gaze upon the scroll. Luke sensed a faint tier 2 combat aura wrapping around him.

Drowning out the bids for a second, Luke oriented toward Emalia. "That's a scroll specifically for monics, I'm surprised your family isn't bidding on it."

Emalia adapted a sultry smile. "Amusing to imagine why we would bid on an item our family placed up for sale, not that we could either way. Highly against auction rules. None may bid on an item they handed to the auction." The cunning woman played upon the momentum, putting her thumb over Luke's chin. "Are you interested in that sort of thing? My family might have something similar for humans, for a suitable price, of course."

She leaned in further, leaving the implication out in the open. Sooty put a wing right in between the two, earning her an appreciative nod from Luke. While Luke chose not to answer, inner thoughts leaked into his mind all the same.

The Twin Titled families sell technique scrolls? And I've never seen one before. What's their true depths?

Most surprisingly, none of the powers residing in the four booths had bid yet. He surmised each well enough by now. The Pyrites, their booth marked with a radiant flame, holding Chander and his tier 3 sister. The Miel's crescent moon marked private area—where Luke resided currently. The City Lord's enclosure, emblazoned with the city emblem. Then the Defiers' shielded viewing platform was imprinted with its usual black pentagram symbol that represented them.

Calen gruffly called out to Emalia, "Prod the boy later, niece, items of interest to even us are about to unveil themselves." The monic with a warrior's spirit narrowed his eyes in focus at the shifting Interface mana screen.

A faint blush seemed to mix in with Emalia's silver cheek runes, yet her arm wrapped into Luke's. "I'm plenty able to achieve both interests at once, Uncle."

She practically glimmered in appeal to the Reaver. "Our resources are available to help your own goals, Luke. Remember it as you enjoy the ambiance and atmosphere."

Emalia tapped a finger against a glass, and two of the attendants came to refill drinks and food, none of which the three bidders present in the booth touched. Food seemed a little unimportant, now that even resources the Duchy's apex scarcely obtained promised to follow after any item now. The previous Moonshadow Step technique scroll sold for a staggering 40,000 gold. Bona-fide tier 3 hunters zeroed in. Luke spotted Moniba whispering to what he assumed were other members of her Tower Team. Thin, vein-like lines of pale yellow curved under the auction bidding floor—pallets at the ready.

Luke visually trailed to the winning bidder of the Moonshadow Step technique scroll. A tora wrapped in a blue and yellow tuxedo, within auction house clothing protocols, although out of place, since most men chose a plain black theme to wear. The winner appeared refined, gentlemanly even. Luke had long become harder to deceive. Despite the tora's tier 2 non-combat aura, the connection, or rather the sense he belonged to the Golden Lions, was undeniable to the Reaver. Even the underworld came out to play, hidden in plain sight.

Although he concluded a sizable portion of those in attendance knew that already. The air itself grew tense with the undercurrents abound, discussions had, knowing glances traded, coins counted.

Avarita introduced the items in an undulating flow. Not all items surpassed their predecessors, but none could be considered beneath the interest of those present on the floor and up in the booths. Luke grasped the general layout; items came in similar sets. The first 'wave' would've been all those items intended for tier 1 combat or non-combat types, snatched up by those above those rankings more often than not. Technique scrolls, profession books, skill tomes, recipes for rarer schematics of potions, armor, weapons, or otherwise, all came out in a plethora here. None sold for under 20,000 gold.

You couldn't bid on credit either. The Interface linked up with the bidding network. While those present wouldn't know your exact available wealth—including what was gained during this auction if one of your items happened to be sold already—submitting a bid would be rejected if you offered a number beyond your current means. A foolish minor merchant had already made one such attempt; black gold aura pulsed from his bidding pallet.

He was 'politely' escorted out by multiple burly auction house overseers. Plenty of those here kept thin patience for any time wasters, or unbacked hopefuls. The next item swept away the discontent, one Luke was intimately familiar with.

Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

Boisterous as ever, Avarita announced the item with a spin, using a fancy silver cane to boot, tapping onto the showing floor. "An unexpected addition came into the pool near the last minute. A feast on the eyes for any of you Necromancer or Astralist extraordinaires. Open your purses folks, this one is seen no more than three times a year in this city, I present…" She revealed a purple and green leather-bound tome, soul wisps within its center, "the skill book, Soul Cloak! Bids begin at a very reasonable 10,000 gold."

[Skill Book: Soul Cloak]

Quality: Rare

Soul Cloak: Summons a vortex of souls around the user, acting as a protective cloak. All affected by it begin to experience soul burn, allowing the user to regenerate essence. Soul burned enemies are more vulnerable to spells, while experiencing a moderate damage over time effect. Upgrades to Soul Cloak enhance its natural protection and hidden interactions. Lasts 20 seconds. Cost: 40 Essence. Cooldown: 30 seconds

Requirements: Necromancer or Astralist Class

Mutterings suppressed themselves on the auction floor, usually from hunters or informed Skill Book traders. Luke picked one apart, coming from a Tier 2 hunter.

"Which duo took on Aren by themselves? The last few known attempts died or needed emergency scrolls to escape. It never drops when three or more face him, or anyone tier 2 or higher is in the party."

Earlier, the Scythe and Wand were presented, but Soul Lord Aren could drop either, even with a regular party, just at a lower rate. Soul Cloak, however, had a zero percent drop rate if he faced more than two people when killed. Plenty of items from bosses or floor guardians displayed this behavior, nothing unusual in a certain sense.

Beside him, another hunter glazed over any underlying implication. "Who cares who or how? It's right there in the flesh." He straightened his spine and yelled out a bid of his own, "13,000 gold."

"Shall we join the efforts, dear uncle?" Emalia softly mused, shifting her weight against Luke. The man heard Xera mutter about being smushed between too many legs. The monic woman's black dress threatened to hike up, yet she flattened it.

Muscles rippling across a too-small tuxedo, Calen leaned into the couch he occupied. "We'll lead with a small bid, an astralist or two in the family could use it."

Rather than a pallet like those below on the bidding floor, Calen tapped upon the private Interface Platform mana mirror. "28,000 gold." Immediately doubling the current going price, as if gold were mere air, betraying not an ounce of stress at the gesture.

A knowing gesture exchanged between the two Miels. Luke dissected it. These two indirectly helped him, driving the price up. The interest in the item was genuine; this would be the second item so far that any of the four groups in the booths had bid on, a declaration all on its own.

One not respected very well. The fangs of wealth began to come in force.

Soft sound waves carried a sing-song voice from the City Lord's booth—the largest of the four—bouncing across auction walls, startling even Avarita. Ophelia Cyrn struck in her usual calm denouement, voice leaking nothing but amusement. "30,000. Let us move on to the real showings."

At face value, this should be an excellent thing for Luke. The Miels bid, then the City Lord did. And if it were a valuation of actual need from either force, then that would be all it was. Life could never be so simple for the Reaver. This was an indirect war of influence first, and bidding for favor from Luke himself second. The Pyrites, as expected, uttered not a peep; this rare skill book lost all luster to them at this inflated price, even for this type of circumstance. Luke's face fell. The internal calculation already floated within the man's mind. The biting remark at the end caused those below to grow flustered; skill books couldn't even be found in any public channel currently, and it wasn't a 'real showing'?

They're going to use this opportunity to fight over me owing a favor, especially if this 'half-gifted' gold results in me buying an item I desperately need soon. I'd be in no position to refuse, with this Tide...and they both know it.

He blinked for a moment. The feeling of being treated like a casual investment bubbled up some ugly emotions. An unintended utterance left him, "I've been checkmated." The Reaver left the other section unsaid.

Why are they so certain this would pay off for them?

Emalia bit her lip at the unexpected interference. She nuzzled herself. "Your shadows are already playing in every major force in this city, Luke. How entwined are you?"

"I'd like to know that too," Luke said. This game of cutting other's unforeseen strings, no matter how much he grew, wore at his patience. Soon enough, each would be severed, either by force or by other means.

Unperturbed, Calen made a motion to bid, before pausing at the last second, his eyes traced Luke's neck and pulse. "Careful you don't sink into the web of royal influence too deeply, Defier. Staying behind the lagging horse suits none." The muscular monic cracked his index finger with a thumb. Answering Emalia's questioning gaze, he continued, "I will prioritize the family over your aims, niece. The Cyrn line will claim this 'prize'." His gaze ripped away from the pair across him and returned to the Interface Platform, waiting for the next bout of contention over coveted items.

Announcing the winner, Avarita tipped herself toward the City Lord's booth, yet her smile seemed to orient toward the Miel's booth. "Our grand City Lord graces us with her first of many wins, surely. Thank you for your patronage. On to the next."

Bits of sweat rushed to Luke's palms, all the sheer amount of effort and risks he'd taken to reach under 30,000 gold and….a handful of words from the City Lord doubled that already respectable hoard with a still unsaid expectation behind it. He'd already owed her; this move just entrenched it further. A fraction internally wished the damn skill book sold normally, but what could he say? No, keep your filthy political gold? I'll somehow get enough money for what I want here without you? He may have been transferred to a planet with magic all about it, but even he couldn't just conjure up gold just because he felt like it. Money ruled in its typical fashion.

It's just as well. The sale of the skill book enabled him enough gold to reasonably snag something the Reaver aimed for. Anything that helped with furthering Elementalization above Expert would come first, but the sheer chance of that happening and being within prize range nulled out. Obtaining Sooty's third companion item, or a passive skill book that suited his taste, felt somewhat reasonably possible instead.

The crowd moved on from the short spat between two wealthy giants up above. A smattering of entertainment to most, a vital showing to those who understood more behind the scenes. Item after item flowed, the typical baseline price rising as time went on, only with the occasional dip. Skill books and technique scrolls all sold at dizzying amounts. So far, Calen secured an exceptional quality technique scroll that taught the basics of a vitality technique, for a different pillar member in the family, at the 'bargain' price of 70,000 gold.

That said, the current item up for auction appeared in the Interface Panel, exalted by Avarita the entire time for dramatic effect.

[Skill Book: Withering Echo - Passive]

Quality: Exceptional

When over 20 Essence is spent within a three second period, a Withering Pulse releases, lowering attack power by a minor amount for three seconds on affected enemies. Has an internal cooldown of nine seconds.

Requirements: Essence-based class

Starting Bid: 20,000 Gold.

Voice in a fever pitch, taken by the wealth being so casually thrown about, Avarita announced the current price, "Number 124 calls for 45,000 gold. Do any wish to counterbid?"

Quickly scanning the auction floor below, Luke singled out the patron in question. Number 124 was a dashing elf, with handsome features, green, deep-set eyes, blond hair, and gear that made even what Luke wore feel shabby. A powerful tier 3 aura congealed around him, equal to what Iona displayed. A flicker of confusion colored the Reaver's usually impassive body language. Why did it seem like he recognized that elf somehow?

Something a skilled socialite like Emalia would pick up on without question. She whispered in his ear, breath hot, "That man there? He's Lesus, leader of the second-highest-ranked Tower Team. Perhaps you've heard of him? Many consider that elf the most powerful hunter in the city that isn't a Defier."

Luke ran a hand through his slick, icy black hair. He already knew the result of what was to come, but he did it anyway. The Spectral Heart pulsed with greed in him. This passive could absolutely grow into something he'd require for the rest of his future in this damn monster and god creature-infested plane. Opposing Lesus could be seen as a minor casualty in the face of such gain. With steel in his movements, Luke sent his bid through the Interface Platform.

"55,000 gold."

A silence settled on the auction floor for all but half a second. The announcement voice that came from the Miel booth was different from any other. Who could be up there? Some knew the answer, but most hadn't the faintest clue. The veteran combatants understood why this skill book found fiercer competition than most. Those less experienced in deadly combat couldn't make heads or tails of the situation.

Rolling his shoulders in his padded chair, a newly ascended tier 2 hunter, some tora warrior, said, "All skill books are valuable, but this one surely isn't so special to be worth this much to well…" he glanced between Lesus, and the 'mystery' bidder at the Miel's private booth a floor above.

A veteran tier 2 paladin woman with crisscrossing scars upon her face and forearms answered him. "This sort of passive ability can make the difference when it counts the most, against those above you in strength. Even Lesus decided to join in, it must be for his new rising star on his team."

Lesus slowly reared his head at the Miel's booth. "I've had my eyes on you, Ninth. But here, there is no grace to be found between us." He paused, raising a pallet steadily.

"65,000 gold."

Next chapter will be updated first on this website. Come back and continue reading tomorrow, everyone!

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.