The first item rolled out onto the stage, a staff glowing faintly with azure runes. The auctioneer’s practiced voice rang clear through the great hall, echoing into each of the sealed VIP chambers.
"Ladies and gentlen, our first offering—a tier six artifact, inscribed with minor enchantnts for elental resistance."
From his private room, Ery leaned back against the velvet-lined chair, his expression flat. A low-grade tier six artifact as the opening bid? That set the tone. These events were supposed to tempt cultivators with rarities, yet this opening showed diocrity. He felt a flicker of pessimism.
Ery forced himself to give the auction the benefit of the doubt, watching as one item after another was paraded across the stage. Yet with each passing mont, his patience thinned. Two dozen items had already been shown, and not a single one stirred his interest. The best among them were a scattering of tier six artifacts and materials, but even those were low to mid-grade at best—trinkets compared to the unused treasures he had stripped from Kronos’ vault.
The truth beca clear: these weekly public auctions might satisfy ambitious magus or desperate rouge grand magus, but not him. If Ery wanted sothing truly rare—an artifact or material worthy of reshaping his path—he would need to seek out the grand auctions, the yearly gatherings in major Magus Alliance cities, attended by the most formidable factions.
An hour crawled by. Another two dozen lots appeared, each more uninspiring than the last. Ery remained still in his private chamber, arms crossed, gaze flat. At this point he no longer expected to find anything; he was simply waiting for the mont his own item ca under the hamr.
Then, at last, the auctioneer’s voice rose, buoyed with excitent. The air in the chamber seed to shift, the background murmur of the crowd below sharpening into anticipation.
"And now, ladies and gentlen," the man declared, "what you have been waiting for—our weekly special bidding items!"
Ery could feel the energy ripple through the audience. For the first ti that evening, he leaned forward, curious to see if the auction would finally produce sothing worthy of his attention.
The first item was brought forth: a long spear, its shaft etched with intricate runes, the head gleaming with a sharp silver luster. Wind-elental energy humd faintly around it, stirring stray wisps of air.
"A top-grade tier six spear, forged with wind affinity, [Storm piercer]," the auctioneer declared.
Ery’s divine sense skimd the weapon. Its craftsmanship was superior—better than any blade currently resting in his arsenal. For a mont, he considered it. Perhaps I could gift it... But then practicality intruded. He himself did not wield a spear, and among his companions, Thrax already carried a formidable weapon, one he bonded with through blood and battle.
Bids rose in a frenzy, breaking past fifty million spirit stones in re monts—already far beyond what such a weapon should fetch. Ery exhaled softly, unimpressed. Not worth the trouble. When the spear finally closed at nearly a hundred million, he could only frown at the absurdity. The madness of war had twisted value itself; strength, no matter how ager, was being bought at any cost.
Next ca an object that imdiately drew more careful attention. Two attendants erged, carrying a velvet-lined tray as though it bore a relic of legend. Resting upon the cushion was a stone no larger than a fist, its silver-gray surface alive with faint glimrs, as though fragnts of starlight were trapped within. Delicate rainbow veins threaded across it, pulsing softly with the essence of nature.
A low rumble spread through the audience, speculation rippling like waves. Ery’s posture shifted; his eyes narrowed as his divine sense brushed across the stone. Recognition sparked, and a quiet smile ford.
Then the auctioneer spoke, his tone swelling with triumph:
"Behold, [Eurelith Stone], a rare tier eight material. Though small, its essence is pure. It can serve as a supplentary catalyst in forging god-tier nature artifacts, or as the primary core for a tier seven weapon."
Tier 8 materials were treasures so rare they were often valued on par with completed tier 7 artifacts. The auctioneer set the starting bid at thirty million spirit stones, a sum that already caused several buyers to hesitate.
Ery, however, felt his interest sharpen. Such resources were nearly impossible to co by, and the stone’s qualities spoke directly to his path. VIA’s report had confird its nature—this was no ordinary mineral, but a rare essence that could serve as supplentary material in the forging of nature-aligned tier 8 artifacts, or as the primary core for a solid tier 7 weapon. Either way, it was sothing he could put to great use in the future.
The audience, on the other hand, seed less enthused. Refining such raw power into a usable artifact demanded skill, resources, and ti far beyond the reach of most. And given the small size of the piece—barely enough to forge a dagger—the majority quickly lost interest. Few in the room dared dream of working with tier 8 creations, let alone succeeding.
As the murmurs died down, the bidding slowed to a crawl. Offers sputtered out once the price reached seventy million, a number well below what the stone might fetch in better tis. That was the mont Ery made his move. His calm voice entered the fray, raising the price in steady incrents until the hamr fell at one hundred million.
A quiet satisfaction settled in his chest as he secured the stone. Others saw only limitations, but Ery could already picture the future it held in his hands.
The next item drew another wave of awe from the crowd—though for Ery, the surprise was of an entirely different kind. The pill displayed on stage was none other than his own creation: the tier 8 [Dual Refinent Pill].
Its effects flashed across the auction panel:
[Temporary boost: 500 battle power]
[Permanent boost: 200 battle power]
[Elental efficiency: 120% (all elents)]
The hall erupted. Gasps and excited whispers spread like wildfire, many unable to believe such a rare body-refining pill was available here. Ery himself was stunned. He hadn’t expected his pill to beco one of the auction’s main attractions.
The bidding began imdiately, fierce and unrelenting. Several ordinary contenders were quickly drowned out as figures from the VIP rooms entered the fray. Within minutes, the price had soared past seventy million spirit stones, and still three of those unseen elites pressed the number higher and higher. Finally, after a heated exchange, the gavel struck at an eye-watering one hundred and twenty million spirit stones.
For context, a pill of this caliber would normally fetch around fifty to sixty million. The scarcity in the current market had nearly doubled its worth. Even so, Ery couldn’t help but feel a touch of disappointnt—he knew that in the Tartarus Realm, the very sa pill could have sold for at least one hundred and fifty million.
The auction concluded with the usual formalities. Ery retrieved his prize, quietly satisfied. On inquiry, he learned that most high-tier artifacts never even reached the public auction stage. Items above tier six were often intercepted by the prestigious Alfa Emporium on the middle deck, monopolized before common eyes ever saw them. That knowledge alone redirected his path. He would head there next.
But as he departed, another drama quietly unfolded. The buyer of his pill wasted no ti in moving. Driven by urgency, this mysterious figure approached the auctioneer directly, offering a bribe to break the rules and reveal the seller identity.
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