Location: Sector 1, The Grand Exchange.
Time: 20:00.
If Sector 2 was a fist, Sector 1 was a golden ring—beautiful, cold, and designed to strangle.
The Psychopomp rolled onto the pristine white marble streets of the Financial District. Here, there was no smog. The air was scrubbed by massive alchemical filters that made the sky look a terrifyingly perfect blue, even at night. The streetlamps were crystal orbs containing captured lightning bugs, casting a sterile, flicker-free glow.
"I feel underdressed," Silas whispered, tugging at the collar of his stiff formal suit. "And I feel like the car is going to leak oil on something expensive and we'll be executed for it."
"Relax," Dante said from the back seat. He smoothed the lapels of his crimson trench coat, the Wolf's Skull badge gleaming. "You're the driver of a High Aspirant. Act like you own the road. If anyone honks, ram them."
Beside him sat Valerius. The Sword-Saint was unrecognizable. His white hair was slicked back, his reptilian eyes hidden behind dark obsidian glasses. He wore a tailored black suit that strained against his shoulders. He looked like a statue carved from violence.
"I do not like this place," Valerius murmured, sniffing the air. "It smells of... nothing. No sweat. No blood. Just metal and math."
"It smells of leverage," Dante corrected.
They pulled up to the Gilded Hall, the massive auction house that looked like a Greek temple made of solid platinum.
The entrance was guarded not by men, but by Vault-Keepers.
They were massive, clockwork golems made of polished brass and steel. Their chests were not armor plates, but literal safe doors, complete with spinning combination dials that ticked rhythmically. Their heads were keyholes.
One of the Vault-Keepers stepped forward, the gears in its legs grinding with the sound of a heavy vault sealing.
"Invitation," the golem clicked. Its voice sounded like tumblers falling into place.
Dante flashed the Golden Envelope given to him by the Baron.
"Verifying..." The golem's keyhole-eye scanned the wax seal. Click-Clunk. "Welcome, Lord Silvergrin. The bidding has already commenced. Please do not touch the exhibits. You break it, you buy it. At 300% markup."
The Auction Floor
The interior was a cavernous amphitheater of velvet and gold. Floating platforms hovered in the air, each holding a bidder, keeping them physically separated to prevent assassinations.
The room was silent, save for the rhythmic chant of the Auctioneer—a multi-armed automaton standing on the central stage.
"Lot 405: Lady Vespera's collection of crystallized butterflies. Do I hear five thousand? Five thousand! Sold to the Duke of Sector 4!"
Dante's platform floated up to the middle tier. He had a clear view of the room. He saw masked aristocrats, guild leaders, and proxies for the other Aspirants.
"Keep your eyes open," Dante whispered to Valerius. "We aren't the only sharks here. We're just the hungriest."
They waited. Items passed. Vespera's jewelry. Her furniture. Her collection of antique poisons.
Finally, the lights dimmed. A spotlight hit the center stage.
Two guards wheeled out a pedestal covered in a velvet cloth.
"Lot 894," the Auctioneer announced, its voice dropping an octave. "The Key to the Celestial Observatory. A relic of the First Era. Recovered from the Spire of Stasis."
The cloth was pulled away.
It wasn't a metal key. It was a complex, spherical astrolabe made of shifting lenses and gears. It hummed with a faint, starlight energy.
"Bidding starts at One Million Gears."
"Five million!" shouted a voice from the lower tier.
"Ten million!" countered a man in a silk mask.
Dante leaned forward. "Valerius, the paddle."
Valerius handed him the digital paddle.
"Twenty million," Dante said calmly.
The room gasped. Heads turned toward his platform.
"Twenty million from the Gentleman in Red! Do I hear twenty-five?"
"Thirty million!" screamed the silk mask.
Dante didn't hesitate. "Forty million."
The Baron had given him fifty. He was pushing the limit.
"Forty-five million!" the mask shouted, sweating visible through the silk.
Dante looked at the man. He activated the Chronal Glimpse circuit on his arm. Just a flicker. Zip.
Future Sight (3 seconds ahead): The man bids 55 million if Dante goes to 50. He bankrupts himself, but he wins.
Dante deactivated the circuit. "He's desperate. He's fronting for someone else. Probably the Chimera Queen."
Dante keyed his paddle. "Fifty Million."
"Fifty Million!" the Auctioneer boomed. "Going once... Going twice..."
Suddenly, the Auctioneer froze. The automaton powered down mid-sentence.
The lights in the entire hall went out.
Panic rippled through the crowd. "Power failure?" "An attack?" "Hold your wallets!"
A single, golden spotlight snapped on. It didn't hit the stage. It hit Dante's platform.
A voice, smooth and heavy like molten gold, filled the room.
"The item is withdrawn."
The back wall of the auction house dissolved. It didn't break; it melted into liquid gold, revealing a massive, floating office beyond.
Standing in the center of the office was a titan.
It was a Liquidity Suit—a twelve-foot-tall exoskeleton made of transparent, reinforced glass and gold plating. Inside the glass torso, floating in a suspension of glowing alchemical fluid, was a man.
Aurum.
He looked frail, withered, a creature of pure intellect and greed kept alive by the fluid. But the suit he piloted was a god of industry. Giant hydraulic pistons powered the arms. Ticker-tape machines printed market data from the shoulders.
"Bring him to me," Aurum's amplified voice commanded.
Dante's floating platform detached from the rail. It began to drift straight into Aurum's office.
"Valerius," Dante said, not standing up. "Be ready."
"I am always ready," Valerius whispered, his hands tightening.
"Silas, keep the engine running. If we fall, catch us."
The platform glided into the office. The wall of liquid gold sealed shut behind them, cutting off the noise of the auction house.
The Golden Office
Aurum's suit hissed as he took a step forward, the floor groaning under the weight of the gold.
"Captain Silvergrin," Aurum said. He didn't offer a seat. "You spend money with the reckless abandon of a man who didn't earn it."
"It's the Baron's money," Dante admitted, stepping off the platform. "I'm just the delivery boy. I assume you intend to rob the delivery boy?"
"The Baron is a blunt instrument," Aurum scoffed. A mechanical arm from the suit reached out and picked up the Astrolabe—the Key—from his desk. He had it. He had pulled it from the auction before the hammer fell. "He wants the Key to watch his borders. He thinks small."
Aurum looked at Dante through the thick glass of his cockpit.
"But you..." Aurum smiled, his real, withered lips pulling back to reveal diamond teeth. "You opened the First Axiom. You walked into the Blind Spot and ate the Queen of Stasis. You don't want this Key for borders, do you?"
Dante's heart hammered against his ribs. Aurum knew.
"I don't know what you're talking about," Dante said steadily.
"Don't lie to a banker, Dante," Aurum chuckled. "I track assets. And you are holding a very large one in your metaphysical pocket."
Aurum placed the Key on the desk.
"I propose a merger."
"A merger?"
"You have the Compass. I have the Map. Separately, we are blind. Together..."
Aurum slid the Key toward Dante.
"...we can find the Source."
Dante looked at the Key. Then he looked at the massive golden machine.
"And what do you want in return? A percentage of Godhood?"
"I want stability," Aurum said. "The world is cracking, Dante. The Baron wants war. The Unknowns want chaos. I want the market to survive. If you ascend... if you become the One Above All... I want you to guarantee the currency."
"You want me to be your insurance policy," Dante realized.
"I want to be your investor," Aurum corrected.
The massive golden hand of the suit extended.
"Take the Key. It is a gift. But in exchange, you owe me a favor. A favor to be named later. No magic binding. No blood contract. Just a Gentleman's Agreement. Because if you break your word to the Bank..."
Aurum's eyes flashed.
"...I will repossess your future."
Dante looked at the hand. A favor to the Gold Sovereign. That was a debt that could cost him a kingdom.
But without the Key, he couldn't find the Second Axiom. And without the Second Axiom, he would eventually fade away.
Dante reached out. His mechanical hand gripped the massive golden finger of the suit.
"Deal," Dante said.
"Excellent," Aurum beamed. "Now, get out of my office before the Baron realizes I just bought his favorite pet."
Aurum pressed a button on his desk.
"The Observatory is in the Upper Atmosphere. You'll need a lift."
"A lift?" Silas asked nervously.
A glass cylinder dropped from the ceiling, encasing Dante, Valerius, and Silas.
"Pneumatic Transit," Aurum explained. "Enjoy the ride."
WHOOSH.
The air pressure spiked. The floor dropped out. They were sucked upward into a clear tube, shot like a bullet through the infrastructure of the Spire.
They flew through the tube, blur of city lights streaking past them. Up, up, past the clouds, past the smog, toward the very tip of the world.