'Red Cat, You Say?'
"A-Are you talking about Red Cat?"
Hamma asked in a voice trembling beyond mere bewilderment.
Quest: Phlia of the Night Auction House
Difficulty: B-S Rank
Rewards: Reputation in desert trade city Obela +50
Rewards: Unknown
There's a special auction house in Obela's Shadow Market, accessible only to those invited. Meeting its owner, Phlia, might build special rapport.
However, Red Cat and her Red Fang Group are extremely wary—things could go south instead.
Warning: If your Obela reputation turns hostile, you'll be immediately expelled and barred from entry.
At that moment, I accepted the long-awaited quest notification without hesitation.
'Obela itself only matters as a gateway to Phlia anyway. Without her, Obela's worthless.'
I flashed a faint smile.
Even Rerto Karen, hailed as the top of the Eight Great Clans, and Hidden Eater, a master at unearthing hidden quests, had only poked around the Shadow Market before leaving Obela empty-handed.
'Neither knew about the Night Auction House. They must've thought the Shadow Market was the end of the line.'
And who could blame them? Uncovering the labyrinthine Shadow Market required satisfying maze-like special conditions—not an easy feat.
But Obela's secrets didn't end there.
'A hidden spot within a hidden spot.'
That was the Night Auction House.
"Time's up."
I noted the wall clock striking midnight.
"B-But, sir... If word gets back to the Red Fang Group that I recommended you as an auctioneer, I'm dead meat!"
"Wouldn't that be better? You get a few more hours of life than dying now."
I twirled the sword in my grip and lightly tapped Hamma's cheek with the flat.
"H-Hiiik...!!"
"Just kidding. All you have to do is introduce me as someone looking to auction the Dragon Claw. No blowback on you."
Hamma eyed the Dragon Claw with trembling eyes.
"Do a good job, and I'll even cut you a commission."
"...No thanks. Taking that money would probably kill me before my time. Follow me."
With a heavy sigh, he stuffed the claw into a large pouch and stood.
"......"
Hamma removed the blindfold with an apologetic look.
"Sorry, sir. Auction house rules—no choice. Sellers who aren't invited might not return, so they enforce secrecy."
"Whatever. I don't trust you lot to let a seller walk out intact anyway."
I scanned the surroundings.
Hamma's basement at the Shadow Market's edge was already remote, but where he led me was even more secluded.
'Got all the paths memorized?'
Of course. That dimwit wouldn't sense me even in death.
Black Eye's reply earned a quiet nod from me.
The auction house's location shifted monthly, making it tricky to find—but irrelevant. No need to wait another month.
'This showdown with Phlia ends it.'
In countless dream runs, I'd met her through Hamma.
'If the game follows my memories, a linked quest triggers after this sudden one.'
To meet the Night Auction House's owner, you had to pass her one test.
'The moment the Dragon Claw hits auction, she'll be itching to meet me...'
But the test wouldn't vanish entirely. She'd probe me somehow, and to build rapport with the Red Fang Group, I had to ace it.
'Twist that test my way.'
I looked forward to seeing her venomous expression twist.
"Here we are."
Hamma cautiously opened the door of a dilapidated mansion, lifting a carpet to reveal another wooden door leading underground.
Creeeak—
As with secretive spots, the spiral stairs plunged deep, several turns through darkness before torchlight flickered on the walls.
"This gentleman's here for tonight's auction."
A burly guard below bowed to Hamma.
'Guard NPC at level 55... Not bad. Definitely not an early-game spot.'
Like dungeons scaled by monster levels, towns and cities graded by resident NPC levels.
Obela's townsfolk hovered around 30—fitting for a desert crossing minimum of late 30s.
'Still, a normal-grade 55 is nothing. The real threats here are the Red Fang Group.'
With guards in the 50s, the auction elites—Red Fang Group's average was surely mid-50s.
'Red Cat's constant shadow: Red Sickle, leader of the Red Fang Group.'
His real name shrouded in mystery, but among continent power rankings, Red Sickle of the Red Fang Group was a perennial name.
'Phlia might be Rare-grade, but Red Sickle's likely Heroic NPC.'
Having clashed with him myself, I knew his strength firsthand. Pity such a powerhouse pledged solely to Red Cat—hard to claim.
"Auction? But tonight's slots are full..."
"Shut it! When I say it's on, it is—what do you know of the effort I put into bringing him?!"
Hamma snarled at the guard.
That fool's already sided with you. Sharp eyes on him.
Black Eye chuckled, and I smirked inwardly.
'Humans like him never change, no matter how many times you see 'em.'
The occasional dream-game dissonance faded at Hamma's antics, drawing a subtle smile from me.
"And tell Red Cat a white-grade item's arrived."
"......!!"
The guard startled at Hamma's words, nodding frantically before dashing inward.
"Idiot's got no tact. After you, sir."
Hamma shook his head.
Creeeaaaak—
The gloomy basement door swung open to a scene worlds apart: sparkling chandeliers, pricey magic lanterns on walls, faint musicians' melodies, masked nobles mingling with wine glasses like at a high-society ball.
"......"
The red-curtained stage up ahead appeared to be the auction block, where a chained demihuman slave stood in the spotlight as the auctioneer bellowed out bids.
What the hell? These crooks act all fancy despite their dirty deeds. Makes me wanna cleave 'em all.
I nodded at Black Eye.
'Not yet, but agreed. I'll let you soon—hold tight.'
Curiously, even NPC mask-wearers had names and levels mosaicked overhead—system enforcing anonymity.
"You're cleared to enter."
The guard who'd reported returned stealthily. Hamma beamed proudly, nodding at me.
"Ahem, this way."
Under his lead, I moved behind the auction stage.
Smooth sailing?
'We'll see.'
I gave a wry smile at Black Eye. Knowing her, welcome wouldn't greet us beyond that door—blades would.
Shiiiing—!!
"Gaaah! What the—?!"
As expected, the door opened to clashing steel and Hamma's scream.
"S-Sir! Not me—I swear I didn't know!!"
Hamma pleaded desperately at the swords aimed our way. Funny—he feared my fist more than Red Fang blades.
"Chill. I know it's not you."
He sighed in relief but glanced nervously at Red Cat in the corner, gulping dryly.
"You the one with the Dragon Claw...? So the northern dragon hunt rumors were true."
She wore a half-mask—not for hiding identity, her overhead Lv72 blue text clear.
'With Kalun Tribe's Kael at 75 and more seasoned Aishira at 83, she's no slouch.'
Obela's hidden ruler indeed. But what gripped me more: Red Sickle beside her.
'Lv80 Heroic-grade.'
Aishira, who'd piled experience since Sword God Gullak's era, hit 83—80 was monstrous. Heroic-grade unlike her Rare meant superior base stats.
'Masked face hides age, but his restrained killing intent screams veteran. Rumors say he's not that old, though...'
Pure talent. Tempting as ever. I licked my lips unconsciously, but first: clear these blades.
"Damn right it's real. So call off the pups? Or their heads roll."
"What?"
"This bastard..."
"How dare you!!"
Red Fang members glared and barked.
Thud—
But as I pulled the heartless final dragon byproduct—scales—from inventory and tossed them before her, all eyes locked on.
"Was gonna process both myself... But if we talk terms, claw and scales are yours."
"Smooth talker. Anyone even process these?"
A subordinate checked the scales, nodding; Phlia asked coolly.
"Not our concern. So, deal?"
"No idea what you mean."
I grinned at her.
"No fool auctions continent-unique Dragon Claw and scales. Right? Price is whatever—but some things sell, some don't."
Red Cat, Phlia (NPC) grows curious about you.
Affinity may change.
"You misunderstand. We're auctioneers—priceless junk's worthless unsold."
"Buyers'll swarm the moment it hits stage, but you're not after pocket change from those chumps."
"......"
"I know you want to expand the auction house, Phlia. Targeting Kal Duchy—better than rigid Eltia Iron Kingdom or weaker Deus Union."
Her unmasked face twisted—nailed it.
"Dragon Claw and scales? Duchy's magitech engineers would kill for 'em. That's why you summoned me—instead of auction, sell direct?"
"Ha..."
She let out a hollow laugh.
"No ordinary fool, huh."
"Then clear these mutts. Don't test my patience."
Red Fang members exchanged glances; Phlia waved them off, and they sheathed eagerly.
"Fine. What do you want?"
"Nothing big. Few rotting items from your warehouse. Hell, appraise on-site, take only approved."
"......?"
Phlia tilted her head. Warehouse brimmed with goods, but nothing matched continent-unique claw and scales.
"Just a worn ring and some antiques. Friend's heirlooms washed up here. Or pass."
"W-Wait!!"
As I reached for the scales, she yelled desperately.
"Deals need inspected goods first. Like you said, warehouse with me—grab what you want, then terms. Deal?"
She figured peek first since my wants were unknown. Smart, but exactly what I hoped.
"Of course."
I nodded.
'Appraise all you want—you won't grasp its use.'
The artifact slumbering in the Night Auction House warehouse, Needle's Scale, would only be revealed years later by alchemist Dion Magus.
"This way."
Red Sickle gestured; I glanced at the scale-holding Fang member, smirked lightly, and passed.
'Keep the scales and claw safe. I'll reclaim 'em anyway.'