The lights shifted in the hall, dimming just enough to pull every eye toward the stage as the next lot was announced. The screens flickered, then lit up with schematics of a massive, broken-down vessel. The feed rotated slowly, showing scorched hull plating, torn weapon pods, shattered wings, and half an engine core still pulsing faintly.
The auctioneer’s voice thundered, dripping with hype. "Lot 301 — a complete salvage package, stripped and curated from an unknown-class derelict recovered near the void breach. This includes: plasma-coated hull fragnts, starship-grade weaponry, dual-phase reactors, propulsion engines, high-density armor plating, internal core circuits, auxiliary power grids, dical pods, navigation systems, AI fragnts, and more. All catalogued, all transferable. Starting bid: five hundred million credits!"
The reaction was instant. The room broke into gasps, murmurs, and greedy chatter.
"The fuck? The mountain hill is not called Void breach." Xavier turned to Angel and asked, "Are they just saying shit to make it look more valuable?"
Angel nodded. "Almost half of the things being presented and auctioned here are illegal, stolen, or acquired by shady deals."
One masked noble raised their device. "Six hundred million!"
"Seven-fifty!"
"A billion!"
The numbers shot up like wildfire. Each call was sharper, louder, the energy in the chamber climbing higher as the feed zood in on specific components — a crystalized engine shard glowing faint blue, a pair of mounted cannons longer than a skiff, sealed cryo-pods that hadn’t even been opened.
"Two billion!"
"Three!"
"Five!"
Every number that hit the screen brought a louder wave of whispers. This wasn’t just salvage anymore — it was history, power, and profit rolled into one.
"Ten billion!"
The auctioneer leaned forward, milking the energy, slamming his gavel down on the podium like each word was fire. "Do I hear fifteen?"
"Fifteen!"
"Twenty!"
Xavier sat back with his usual grin, arms spread across the couch as if none of this chaos was his business.
Lyra was watching the numbers with wide eyes, almost impressed. Viola had that satisfied look like soone watching a plan unfold perfectly. Angel, calm as ever, was already tracking who in the room was making the biggest moves.
"Thirty billion!"
"Forty!"
The crowd was half-mad by then, nobles shouting over one another, throwing numbers like water, each one desperate not to let the next steal the glory.
Finally the hamr ca down, loud enough to silence everything.
"Sold! Lot 301 — to the royal syndicate — for fifty billion credits!"
The hall erupted in applause, laughter, and the subtle grind of envy. On the private feed, Xavier’s account flashed with the transfer notification, strings of zeroes sliding across like music.
Lyra leaned closer, smirking. "That’s... a lot of food."
Xavier just chuckled. "That’s a lot of everything."
The auctioneer didn’t let the crowd cool off for long. As soon as the fifty-billion sale was locked in, the screen shifted to highlight smaller collections — equipnt and gadgets stripped from the sa wreck.
"Lot 302! High-grade navigation systems, star charts, long-range scanners, and dinsional beacons from the derelict!"
The room was still burning hot from the last bid.
"One billion!"
"Two!"
"Five!"
The hamr slamd. "Sold, five billion!"
Lyra tilted her head, unimpressed. "That’s not even worth half of that. People are stupid."
Viola smirked. "That’s the beauty of auctions."
Lot 303 ca next — dical pods, stasis chambers, nano-healing kits, a sealed crate of stim injectors.
"Five billion!" The buyer didn’t even hesitate.
Lot 304 — weapon calibrators, targeting systems, auto-repair droids, fuel cells.
Another five billion.
Lot 305 — power cores, auxiliary shields, energy converters.
Five billion again.
Lot 306 — hyperdrive scraps and comm relays.
Sa story. Five billion.
By the ti the hamr dropped on the fifth one, the crowd was practically drunk on their own spending. Lyra scoffed. "Idiots."
Then ca Lot 307 — a "miscellaneous bundle," as the auctioneer put it, all the smaller leftover scraps: comm pieces, wiring clusters, cracked processors, half-broken consoles.
The bidding dragged at first, then soone got carried away and before long it closed at a billion.
"Sold!"
Angel leaned back in her chair, shaking her head. "Paying a billion for garbage. Not my kind of stupidity."
But the final sting was Lot 308 — a massive bundle of drone fras, bot parts, leftover AI shards, and scattered weapons still attached to half-broken limbs. The screen flickered through images of skeletal fras piled high like scrapyard trophies.
"Starting bid: fifty million!"
"Sixty!"
"Eighty!"
"Hundred!"
And just like that, it ended there.
"Sold! Lot 308, for one hundred million credits!"
The room sighed in relief, as if the fever broke. Xavier leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand, grinning.
"Now this is getting fun," he said. "I’m actually enjoying the auction — especially after making billions off junk."
"Obviously. Scavenging and scraping is a profitable business," Angel comnted.
Viola laughed under her breath. Lyra still looked annoyed that anyone would throw money at scraps, but the mood around them had shifted.
The screen dimd for a short break, giving the crowd a chance to breathe. The private room settled into a quieter atmosphere, the echoes of shouting bids muffled behind the thick walls.
Xavier leaned back into the couch, pulling a drink from the table, swirling it slowly before taking a sip. The glass caught the faint glow of the screens, making the liquid look richer than it was.
"Billions," he muttered with a grin. "Off junk. Imagine that."
Lyra stretched out. "Imagine idiots," she corrected. "Those scraps weren’t worth even a tenth of what they threw."
Angel chuckled lightly, arms crossed as she leaned against the wall. "Don’t complain, wolf. You’re eating well off their stupidity."
Viola, already fiddling with one of her ornants, gave a small smirk. "It’s not stupidity. It’s pride. Half the people out there bid just to prove they could. Show off the size of their pockets."
"Pockets fat enough to make mine heavier," Xavier said, lifting his glass. "I won’t complain about that."
Lyra huffed, sitting closer, her tail flicking lazily against the side of the couch. "What are you even gonna do with all that money? You don’t seem like the type to sit and count it."
"Money’s not to be counted," Xavier replied smoothly. "It’s to be used. Invested. Gambled. Burned, if it gets sothing better."
Angel’s eyes narrowed slightly, studying him. "And what would you burn billions for?"
Xavier smirked without answering, letting the silence carry as he took another sip.
"Satisfaction."
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