Chapter 37: Bidding
A faint shimmer flickered before Raven's left eye.
Lines of blue text unfolded in the air.
…
[Item: Merlin's Compass]
Description: Crafted by the Archon Wizard Merlin to conceal the twelve Arcane Fragments from his enemies.
Uses: Unknown.
Activation: Unknown.
Potential Effect: Upon activation, reveals the nearest location of an Arcane Fragment.
…
Raven tilted his head, eyes narrowing.
"Arcane Fragments?" he muttered under his breath.
A familiar, feminine voice echoed in his mind—steady and laced with faint amusement.
[That's the term for 'Intellectual Artifacts' in this world, lad.]
"Intellectual artifacts?" His brow furrowed. The term felt… alive.
[Artifacts that can think, speak, and choose. They're divided into three types—Arcane Fragments, Arcane Relics, and the Apex Congitums.]
Zera's tone turned grave.
[Fragments are the youngest. Curious, willful, like newborns—yet each surpasses a Legendary Artifact in power.
Relics are different—they manipulate mortals like puppets, twist cities into chaos.
And Apex Congitums? They're calamities with minds. Worlds tremble when they awaken.]
Raven's pulse quickened. "So… should I buy the compass?"
[You must.]
No hesitation in Zera's voice this time.
The auctioneer's gavel clicked, breaking his thought.
"Six hundred and fifty gold!"
"Seven hundred!"
Voices rippled through the crowd.
The bids climbed like a firestorm—850, 1000, 1200—and then slowed.
"1200 gold coins going once!"
"Going twice!"
Raven's hand lifted. "1250."
The entire hall went still. No one else moved.
"1250 gold coins going once, twice, thrice—sold to seat F12!"
The gavel struck. A few murmurs stirred across the audience, curiosity directed toward the calm young man in the black coat.
Jacob leaned closer, his face twisted with skepticism.
"A compass that doesn't point north, my lord? That's quite a gamble."
Raven's lips curved. "Perhaps it points toward something far more valuable than north, Jacob. You'll see soon enough."
…
Item after item passed—enchanted rune armor, gemstone clusters, cursed amulets. The crowd's excitement rose and fell like waves. Raven sat motionless, studying, not bidding. His gaze moved only when something different touched the stage.
When the lights dimmed again, murmurs spread. The auctioneer returned with theatrical flair.
"Ladies and gentlemen," he began, voice dropping to a whisper, "one of the highlights of today's auction—a creature of the northern mountains… the corpse of an Ice Wyrm!"
A team of assistants wheeled in a frost-covered container. Cold mist spilled out like breath from the grave. Inside, the wyrm's crystalline scales shimmered beneath the light—its fangs frozen mid-snarl.
Gasps filled the air.
"This beast was slain by seven Elite Walkers and two Radiant Knights," the auctioneer boasted. "A Rank-1 Magical Beast, its blood and bones brim with power. Necromancers, rune forgers, alchemists—this is your prize. Starting bid: two thousand gold."
"Two thousand one hundred!"
"Two five hundred!"
"Three thousand!"
The price climbed swiftly. Raven's eyes darted toward a group of alchemists whispering in the corner—and a nobleman in crimson velvet signaling discreetly to his attendant.
It wasn't just a monster. It was dragon-blooded prey.
When the price steadied at five thousand, Raven's hand rose.
"Five thousand three hundred."
Heads turned. The nobleman hesitated, then lifted his hand.
"Five thousand six hundred."
"Five eight hundred." Raven's tone was cool. Detached.
"Six thousand!"
"Six five hundred."
The nobleman exhaled heavily, pride warring with reason. He leaned back, defeated.
The gavel struck again.
"Sold for six thousand five hundred! Seat F12!"
Jacob's eyes widened. "You've outbid a noble, my lord."
Raven only smiled. "A wyrm's corpse is worth more than a noble's pride."
…
The next few items blurred together—enchanted potions, beast hides, spell tomes. Raven bought sparingly, calculating every coin. He could feel his pouch thinning.
Then came something unexpected.
"The next item," the auctioneer announced, "a Basic Night Vision Potion."
The crowd's energy dimmed instantly.
Bored nobles yawned. Mercenaries ignored him.
"But!" the auctioneer added quickly, "this potion's effect is permanent. Once consumed, the drinker gains the Night Vision skill forever!"
A stunned silence swept through the room—then erupted into chaos.
"A skill potion?"
"Permanent?"
The bids came fast.
"Five thousand!"
"Seven!"
"Ten!"
By the time it reached twelve thousand, the crowd had thinned. Then—
"Thirteen thousand!" a young voice called from a VIP box.
"Fourteen!" came a sharp, elderly retort.
Raven recognized the tension—Countess Isadora versus the young Hawkspire heir, Pablo.
"Fifteen!"
"Sixteen-five!"
"Didn't get your allowance, boy?" Isadora mocked, her laughter echoing.
Pablo's jaw clenched. "Nineteen thousand!"
The countess chuckled softly. "Hoho… let the youth have his toy."
The hall erupted in applause.
Jacob leaned over, stunned. "Nineteen thousand gold for a single potion?"
Raven smiled faintly. "Rarity bends reason. People always pay more for permanence."
…
When the uproar settled, Raven secured a spatial ring—ten cubic meters of space for 2,500 gold. A steal, considering his luck so far.
The auction neared its end when the auctioneer brought out a small, blackened key resting on crimson silk.
"An Unknown Key from the Agith Ruins," he said. "Our appraisers found no data except… this faint aura. Starting bid, 3,000 gold."
Raven touched his monocle. The lens shimmered.
…
[Item: Key of the Dark Dungeon]
Use: Summons the entrance to the Dark Dungeon for three months
…
Zera's voice snapped in.
[Buy it. Immediately.]
No hesitation.
When no other bidders stepped forward, Raven claimed it for 4,100 gold.
The lights dimmed one last time. A thick curtain was drawn away, revealing a black, pulsating worm the size of a hound. Its body twitched, lined with hundreds of blinking eyes. The moment Raven's gaze met them, a needle of pain stabbed his skull.
[A Mind Worm,] Zera whispered. [Its spell rivals that of the Fallen Overlord. Be careful.]
The auctioneer's voice trembled with awe.
"This Rank-1 magical beast's specialty is mental domination. Starting bid: five thousand gold."
"Seven!"
"Seven-five!" Raven joined immediately.
Whispers rose.
Who was this bidder in seat F12 who kept buying mysteries?
"Nine thousand!" came a deep, rough voice from a VIP booth.
Raven's fingers drummed on the armrest. "Twelve thousand."
The crowd froze. The gavel lifted.
"Going once—twice—thrice! Sold!"
Jacob exhaled sharply beside him. "Twelve thousand… for that thing?"
Raven's eyes stayed on the cage.
"Yes," he said softly. "Some monsters are worth every coin."
Chapter 78: Return
"The next item," the auctioneer said, his voice echoing through the marble hall, "is a peak Rank-2 Crimson Fox Core. Starting price—twelve thousand gold coins."
An attendant stepped forward carrying a glass case. Inside, a red orb pulsed faintly like a living heart. Its glow bathed the crowd in a warm, scarlet hue.
The reaction was immediate.
"12,300!"
"12,500!"
"12,800!"
The hall erupted in a wave of bids. Even the air seemed to tremble beneath the rising chorus.
Raven leaned back, watching with a curious half-smile. Why are they this eager for a beast core?
[A magical core is the fuel of a beast's existence. That energy can refill your circlets, forge artifacts, or power spell scrolls. The stronger the beast, the denser the essence. You'll need them too—at Rank-2 and beyond. The world's ambient energy is far too thin to sustain higher cultivation.]
The whisper faded from his mind as the bidding war climbed past seventeen thousand gold. The hammer finally dropped, and the crimson orb vanished into the possession of a hooded wizard.
The next items followed quickly—the beast's corpse, a rare amulet, a sword forged with star-iron. Each sold for staggering prices, the air filled with cheers and envy.
When the last gavel struck, silence swept the hall.
"Those who bid successfully, please proceed to the collection chamber," the auctioneer announced, stepping down from the stage.
Raven and Jacob rose and followed the stream of cloaked bidders into the adjoining hall.
Bright crystal lamps illuminated long counters where clerks sorted ledgers and called out seat numbers. Assistants hurried back and forth carrying wooden trays, the metallic scent of coin and magic thick in the air.
"Seat F-12!"
Raven stepped forward. A young blonde clerk with warm brown eyes greeted him.
"Your badge and ticket, please."
He handed them over without a word. She scanned her ledger and read aloud, her tone calm and professional.
"Bid items: Phantom Compass—1,250 gold coins. Frozen Wyrm—6,500. Spatial Ring—2,500. Unknown Key from Ruins—4,100. Worm Beast corpse—12,000. Sold items: Night Vision Potion—19,000. Total owed: 7,350 gold coins."
Raven retrieved two pouches and set them on the counter. "Seventy platinum, three hundred and fifty gold," he said, then, after a brief pause, placed ten more coins.
She checked swiftly, then nodded toward a bald attendant. "Transaction complete. Please follow him to collect your items."
Raven followed the man into the storage chamber. The room smelled faintly of oil and parchment. Crates were stacked neatly, some radiating traces of enchantment.
He stored Merlin's Compass and the Key of Dark Dungeon safely into his inventory, then placed the Ice Wyrm and Mind-Worm corpses inside his spatial ring.
"Done," Jacob murmured.
"Let's leave," Raven replied quietly.
The night outside was cool, almost tender after the stifling heat of the auction. Gas lamps flickered across cobblestone streets, throwing long, crooked shadows. Carriages lined the side road, their horses stamping restlessly against the stone.
Raven was about to call for one when a black brougham rolled out of the fog and halted beside them.
"Need a ride?"
The driver was a young woman—blonde hair tied back, amber eyes gleaming beneath her cap. A cigar hung between her lips, its ember glowing faintly.
Raven adjusted his monocle, studying her face before nodding. "Aurora Street, Glory Wine."
He handed her three silver coins, then opened the carriage door and stepped inside.
The door clicked shut. Wheels groaned as the brougham rolled forward, swallowed by the misty streets of Bloodstone City.
Inside, the dim light flickered through the window's slits. Raven leaned against the seat, eyelids heavy. Jacob sat across, alert but silent. The rhythmic clatter of hooves echoed like a heartbeat through the dark.
After half an hour, the carriage slowed.
"We're here, young master," the woman called.
Raven's lips curled slightly. Something was wrong.
Jacob's hand moved subtly—two fingers pointed from his eyes to the driver.
Raven caught it instantly. He feels it too.
Feigning a yawn, Raven reached into his inventory and pulled out a leather bag, handing it to Jacob.
Jacob opened it with practiced hands, revealing a sleek, 124-centimeter Aether rifle. He loaded it calmly, strapped a pouch to his belt, and slid knives into his sleeves.
"Let me draw them out, my lord," he whispered. "You strike after I reduce their number."
Before Raven could respond, Jacob's form shimmered and melted into shadow.
Shadow Step, Raven noted, gripping the carriage door handle. How convenient.
Three seconds later, he pushed the door open—
—and a boot slammed into his chest. The impact lifted him off his feet.
He rolled across the dirt and stopped against a cracked wall, coughing violently. "Ugh!"
"Where's the bald one?" a gravelly voice sneered. "I wanted to meet the Scarlet Wolf of the Sepoy Corps."
"Stay alert, Preston," another voice said—a woman's, sharp as steel. "He's nearby."
Raven blinked away the dizziness. The street around him was silent and broken—abandoned buildings with shattered windows, streetlamps bent like dead trees.
Four figures stood before him.
The driver—Mia—watched him coldly, dagger in hand. Beside her, a masked woman with crimson hair and violet eyes twirled twin blades. A silver-haired mage in plain robes leaned on a staff etched with runes. And at the front stood a middle-aged man in a frock coat and top hat, his eyes dark and lifeless.
Raven straightened, brushing dust off his coat. "So it was you all along. Didn't you have enough fun tormenting me, Mia?"
Her grin widened. "You talk like Thomas, but you're not him. I remember cutting your throat in that basement."
Raven's tone dropped to a low, dangerous calm. "I remember it too. I still feel it when I breathe." He raised his hand, and an iron spear formed in the air, heavy and real. "Tell me, who ordered my death?"
"Kill him," the silver-haired mage muttered.
Vines burst from the cobblestone like serpents, coiling around Raven's legs and arms. Thorns pierced his skin, injecting poison into his veins.
He gritted his teeth. Tch, elemental manipulation—Earth and Poison.
"Hold him steady, Tadeo," Mia said, stepping closer. "I want answers—"
Her words ended in a sharp crack.
Blood splattered the cobblestone as a hole appeared in her forehead. She collapsed mid-step.
"Sh*t! Preston, two o'clock—sniper!" the red-haired woman shouted, ducking behind the carriage.
"Jacob," Raven muttered under his breath, relief flickering behind his eyes.
Preston dived to the side, cane drawn. The red-haired assassin sprinted across the ruins, but another gunshot cracked the air. The bullet grazed her shoulder, spinning her into cover.
Tadeo alone didn't flinch. The mage's expression remained cold as he stepped forward, staff raised.
[You've got one chance, lad. Break his focus when he's close.] Zera's voice echoed in Raven's head.
Raven hesitated. His chest ached, and blood from the vine's thorns dripped onto the dirt. I've never killed anyone before...
But hesitation was death.
"Arise!" Tadeo shouted.
The earth rippled. From the ground, a hulking figure of rock and dust emerged—a golem nearly two meters tall. Its eyes burned with molten light.
"Golem…" Raven breathed.
The creature roared and slammed its fist forward. Raven barely managed to lift his spear in defense. The impact cracked the bone and hurled him backward into a wall.
Pain flooded his body. The vines tore apart, but his limbs screamed in protest.
He spat blood, forcing himself to stand. "One-sided fight, huh?" His smile was faint but defiant.
A pulse of energy surged through his veins as he activated Iron Resilience. His wounds sealed rapidly, pain dulling into warmth.
He steadied his breath and lunged forward. The spear's tip shimmered with an invisible aura, humming with compressed force.
"You're still standing?" Tadeo muttered, startled. The golem moved to intercept, but Raven slipped past it, his body a blur.
Tadeo thrust his hand forward, conjuring a swirling sphere of purple. "Toxic Mist!"
The sphere burst into a cloud of poison gas, spreading across the street like a violet storm. The world vanished in haze.
Coughing echoed, then silence.
When the mist cleared, Raven lay motionless on the road, spear clutched tightly in his hand.
Tadeo lowered his shield spell and sighed. "Shouldn't have used poison. Now I'll need to waste an antidote on him."
He knelt beside Raven and uncorked a vial of green liquid. "Even unconscious, still gripping that spear." A faint smirk touched his lips.
But then—pain.
It stabbed through his chest like fire. His vision blurred, his fingers trembling. "W-What…?"
He looked down. Blood spread across his robe. And in front of him—Raven's eyes were open, cold and gleaming under the moonlight.