Rowan's heart hammered in his chest as the Lot Four creature lunged, claws scraping against the stone floor with a sound that made his teeth ache. The pulse in the soul bundle in his hands flared violently, almost burning through his skin. Shadows writhed along his fingers, curling and snapping toward the creature like living tendrils.
He stumbled back, barely keeping his footing, and the hooded bidder who had approached from the far side of the arena raised a weapon. A long, thin blade glinted in the dim light, and Rowan felt a cold dread settle into his bones. One misstep could mean death.
Instinct took over. He raised the bundle high, feeling its heartbeat sync with his own. The shadows surged forward, lashing out at the creature, wrapping around its limbs and constricting its movements. The creature screeched, thrashing violently, and Rowan stumbled again, letting out a strangled gasp as the pulse in his hands screamed at him to act faster.
The bidder advanced, stepping lightly across the stone like he'd done it a hundred times before. Rowan's mind raced. He had no training, no weapons, nothing beyond this thrumming bundle and the shadows it had awakened. And yet, the shadows seemed almost sentient, wrapping protectively around him, shielding him from the first swipe of the Lot Four creature.
The creature lunged again, faster this time. Rowan twisted instinctively, swinging the bundle toward it, and a sudden burst of energy shot from his palm. The impact hit the creature's chest, sending it staggering back, claws scraping along the arena floor. The crowd murmured, some cheering, some gasping. Rowan barely registered them, focused entirely on surviving.
"Keep moving!" the pulse whispered. Rowan didn't know if it was inside his head or the soul bundle speaking directly, but he obeyed anyway. He stumbled forward, dragging one leg over another, trying to find footing on the uneven stone.
The bidder raised his blade again. This time Rowan saw the glint not as a threat but as a target. He thrust the bundle forward instinctively, and the shadows leapt. A tendril wrapped around the bidder's wrist, twisting and jerking. The bidder cursed, stumbling back as the shadows constricted like steel bands. Rowan took advantage of the distraction, swinging the bundle at the Lot Four creature again.
The pulse in his hands flared violently. He felt energy surge through his veins, muscles tightening, senses sharpening. The creature shrieked as the shadows struck, and Rowan realized for the first time that he wasn't just holding the bundle—he was wielding it.
Another bell rang, echoing through the pit. Lot Six rose silently from behind the central platform. Another soul. Another heartbeat. Rowan's stomach churned. He had barely survived this round, and already there was another test. The shadows under his fingers responded instantly, lashing out toward the new lot, as if assessing the threat.
The Lot Four creature roared and lunged again. Rowan braced himself, letting the shadows wrap around its arms and legs, slowing it just enough. He swung the bundle forward, and a sharp pulse of energy shot from his hands, hitting the creature squarely in the chest. It staggered backward, letting out a howl that shook the stone pit. Rowan's knees buckled slightly, but the shadows held firm, keeping him upright.
The bidder had recovered, moving toward him again. Rowan's mind raced. There was no strategy, no plan beyond reacting, surviving, using the pulse and the shadows. His breaths came in shallow gasps, heart hammering. The auction wasn't just a market; it was a battlefield.
Lot Six's soul floated closer. Rowan could feel its energy pulsing faintly, a different rhythm from the Lot Four creature. The shadows responded again, curling protectively around him and the pulse in his hands. Rowan raised the bundle instinctively, feeling the connection intensify. He could almost hear a whisper, not in words, but in thought: Claim me. Survive.
The bidder lunged, blade flashing. Rowan twisted, swinging the bundle at the Lot Four creature. The shadows snapped, striking the bidder's legs and torso, slowing him down. Rowan's body moved before he could think, energy flaring from the bundle in a sharp arc. The bidder stumbled back, cursing, and Rowan took the opportunity to step forward, putting himself between the new lot and the original creature.
Lot Four's eyes glowed red, and it shrieked, swinging its claws in a wide arc. Rowan barely dodged, the shadows snapping along the floor to catch its arms and legs, constraining it. He swung the bundle again, energy flaring in a white-hot pulse. The impact hit the creature's chest, staggering it backward. Rowan felt sweat running down his face, burning his eyes, but he didn't stop.
Lot Six's soul pulsed violently, almost as if urging him to take it. Rowan reached out with one hand, and the shadows responded, lifting it slightly toward him. He grasped it, and a jolt of energy ran through his body. His vision sharpened, reflexes heightened. For the first time, he felt not just fear, but power—raw, untested, dangerous power.
The bidder recovered again, blade raised. Rowan didn't hesitate. The shadows surged, lashing out with a speed he hadn't thought possible, wrapping around the bidder's legs and torso, pulling him off balance. Rowan swung the bundle at the Lot Four creature once more. It screamed, thrashing wildly, but the shadows held it firm, restricting its movements. Rowan's breath came faster, heart hammering, muscles trembling, but the pulse inside him guided every action.
Another bell rang. Lot Seven appeared, floating high above the arena. Rowan barely had time to glance. The new soul pulsed with a strange, alien rhythm. Rowan's stomach dropped. This wasn't just a fight for survival—this was an escalating trial. Every soul claimed, every action, every swing of the bundle, every lash of the shadows, mattered. The stakes were life or death.
Lot Four lunged again, faster than before. Rowan barely dodged, the shadows lashing out automatically, constraining it. He swung the bundle, energy flaring, and hit it square in the chest. The creature staggered, claws scraping across the stone pit. Rowan felt his knees weaken, but the pulse in his hands screamed, urging him forward.
The bidder lunged again, faster this time. Rowan twisted instinctively, the shadows wrapping around the bidder's arms, legs, and torso. Energy flared from the bundle in his hands, striking both the bidder and the Lot Four creature simultaneously. The crowd gasped, murmuring, some cheering, some hissing. Rowan didn't notice. He couldn't. Survival consumed every thought.
Lot Six pulsed violently in his grasp. Rowan realized the connection between the bundle and the shadows wasn't just power—it was symbiosis. The shadows reacted to his will, but the pulse in the bundle amplified them. He could feel strength, precision, instinct, all flowing through him.
The Lot Four creature shrieked, swinging wildly. Rowan dodged, letting the shadows wrap around it like chains. He swung the bundle again, striking its chest, and it fell to one knee, letting out a long, pained howl. Rowan stumbled forward, chest heaving, sweat blinding his vision. The bidder was down, the shadows keeping him pinned. For now, Rowan had survived.
Another bell rang. Lot Eight rose. Rowan froze for a moment, realizing this wasn't going to stop. The arena stretched endlessly, each soul, each bidder, each creature a trial designed to push him to his limits. The shadows under his fingers writhed, sensing the new threat. Rowan gritted his teeth, holding the pulse tightly, ready to act again.
The Lot Four creature roared one final time, lunging toward him. Rowan didn't hesitate. The shadows struck, constricting it. The pulse flared violently, sending a shockwave through the pit. The creature fell forward, subdued but alive, thrashing weakly. Rowan's knees buckled, but he stayed upright, the shadows wrapping around him like armor.
The crowd murmured in awe and horror. Rowan barely noticed. All that existed was survival. The pulse in his hands whispered: Claim. Live. Survive.
Rowan's eyes widened as he realized the truth: the Soul Auction wasn't just a market. It was a crucible. Every lot, every bidder, every creature—it was all designed to test, to break, to create the next Awakened. And he… he had just begun.
The shadows pulsed in anticipation. Rowan took a deep breath. The next lot was coming.
And he would be ready.