Sword of Fate 3
Such complacent thoughts. What could possibly go wrong here? This was Artal. The guards and escorts numbered in the dozens. In truth, though it was called a secret auction house, it operated under the king's protection.
Aila alternated glances between the tall young man chattering away without a shred of tact and the pig beside him. His words were increasingly crossing the line. Something was about to happen.
"By now, you must understand... so why not step aside? I can't imagine someone like you deserves to sit beside the lady. There's an empty seat right over there, conveniently."
"Are you deaf? Get up now while I'm asking nicely. You're wasting our time."
That was when it happened.
"Enough."
"...Lady?"
"Get lost. Right now."
In an instant, Aila snapped. It was a complete shift from moments before, impossible to believe it was the same person. Before anyone knew it, her left hand overlapped Licht's, pressing down firmly on the back of his.
"What's going on?"
"Looks like a fight."
"A lovers' quarrel? Quite the spectacle before it even starts."
"That robe looks familiar..."
"Shh. You're not the only one who knows, so shut it. Use some discretion."
Gazes poured in from those waiting around the VIP seats. A woman in a white robe and two men in ornate uniforms. Some recognized them and began whispering among themselves.
"...I must have misheard, Lady."
"You heard right, so get lost. Before I call the guards."
"......"
"No, Lady! What are you saying? That scum—what makes him worthy...!"
Curious stares. Though the reality was far from it, to onlookers, their clasped hands looked quite intimate.
The tall youth clenched his jaw for a split second, lips twisting, then grabbed the pig by the collar and dragged him away.
"Let's go."
"What? But that guy—"
"My apologies, Lady. Until next time."
"......"
The two sat far from Licht's seat, apparently their original spots. With the matter fizzling out more blandly than expected, the intrigued onlookers soon lost interest.
Aila lifted the hand she'd placed over Licht's. Between the guard and scabbard, the blade gapped just slightly, glinting under the dim platform light.
She let out a long sigh, brushing her chest.
"Unnecessary trouble."
"You... were really going to kill them?"
"No."
"Don't lie."
"Not lying."
She meant it. Licht had only intended to scare them a bit—no killing, no blood.
Aren spoke up.
"If not for the lady, I would have stepped in. It was getting uncomfortable to listen to."
"Don't do that next time. My heart nearly stopped."
Glancing at their seats, the tall one and the pig glared daggers at Licht. He turned away indifferently.
Aila added by way of explanation.
"Those two. Know their families?"
"No."
"Right one's the second son of Count Battenberg. Left is the eldest of Marquis Ventingk. Especially the Battenbergs—they're almost on par with ducal houses in influence, you know? The one picking a fight with you."
Aila pointed to the tall youth in the half-mask.
"His father's the famous border count of Battenberg. Easier to know him as the 'Ghost Spear.' Second only to Duke Barbalte—your father—in skill. They say he wields the spear like a demon."
"......"
What a ridiculously grandiose moniker. Licht sneered inwardly at her words. Ghost Spear? He couldn't even beat the lowest of Orkin's Seven Swords before dying. Whoever started calling him that... If he'd named himself, it was utterly pathetic.
Licht truly believed that.
"Plenty of familiar faces at this auction. See over there?"
As Licht stared silently at the platform, Aren pointed to one spot. A robe like Aila's and his, but with inferior embroidery. Blue stitching gleamed faintly.
"...The Byrneck school?"
"Oh, you know them. Arrogant bunch specializing in ice magic. Not quite on Barte's level, though."
"......"
"That one? Recognize him?"
"No."
"Pretty famous central noble. Known for never leaving his seat... but he showed up. That ancient relic must be tempting."
Aila and Aren took turns explaining. Licht half-listened, uninterested.
How much time passed? Click. The platform lights suddenly went out. The murmurs died instantly.
When they relit, an unfamiliar man stood holding what looked like a voice-amplifying magic tool.
[Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for gracing our Artal Secret Auction House today. Following the 38th auction, I'm Madison, hosting the 39th. A humble name, but please remember it.]
He bowed gracefully, familiar poise drawing light applause that soon faded. The host continued.
[More guests than usual today. Likely for that 'item.' Straight to it, then.]
A servant brought a veiled object from the platform corner. Unveiled, it revealed a finely crafted long longsword.
[First item. Looks like a well-forged straight sword...]
The host drew it. Gripping the hilt and twisting, crimson flames erupted along the blade.
[Like this! Even someone like me, with no aura or mana, can summon fire. We called it the 'Flame Sword' at first... but name it whatever you like, new owner.]
[Anyone who knows the price of a fire magic scroll understands its value. Practical or decorative. A chance for anyone to wield magic! Starting at a mere 100,000 silver.]
Bids flew immediately from below.
"110,000."
"130,000."
[130,000!]
"150,000."
[Ah, 150,000 from the dashing gentleman!]
"200,000!"
[200,000! Any higher?]
Licht surveyed the heated hall. Unlike the first floor, the VIP second floor stayed quiet.
"Not buying?"
"No hobby of buying trash."
"Why? Looks decent. Fun toy."
"......"
[300,000! Final call: 300,000 three times. Sold!]
Applause erupted. The buyer stood, bowing deeply. As it subsided, the next item appeared.
[Second item. A noble lady tired of it, apparently. But look—a stunning necklace. No magic, but mesmerizing all the same.]
[See the massive ruby in the center? Gentlemen here, gift this to your wife, and tonight will be hotter than ever.]
[Starting 300,000 silver.]
Bids soared: 400,000. 550,000. 700,000. Licht's expression turned subtle at the frenzy.
"Don't get it? Why pay so much for a useless bauble."
"...A bit."
"Artal auctions anything rare. Jewelry like that has steady demand—especially from husbands wooing wives or noble ladies."
"Items so far seem underwhelming."
"Early ones hype the crowd. Good stuff comes mid-to-late. See this?"
Aila extended her left hand. A small ring on her middle finger, worn since they met.
"Won this two years ago. 'Oath of Wisdom' artifact—smooths mana flow, boosts spell power."
"...How much?"
"30 million silver."
Speechless.
"Father got it for my 15th birthday."
"...What's our limit?"
He'd forgotten the key question.
"Ready cash: 10 million. In a pinch, up to 15 with a note."
"......"
"No worries, Young Master. Whatever you're after, 10 million covers most."
Aila and Aren had vastly different senses of money from Licht. Natural—he'd scraped by as a mercenary after leaving home; they were from the kingdom's richest house.
First secret auction for him too. Licht watched quietly.
As it hit mid-auction, the host shifted to a serious tone.
[Auction's halfway done.]
[Thanks for waiting. The star everyone awaits: ancient relic magic artifact, 'Miracle of the Heavens'!]
A gloved hand held a sapphire-studded pendant. Extraordinary at a glance. Murmurs filled the air.
[This Miracle of the Heavens... no extra effects like others. Simple, direct.]
[Don't be shocked. It stores mana permanently!!]
"What the—?!"
"Permanent mana storage?"
"Misheard? No way that exists..."
"This is Artal. No fakes."
Even VIP seats stirred for the first time. Emotions unchecked—especially the two who'd picked on Licht and the Byrneck mages, visibly shaken.
Impossible...
Licht was stunned too. Rightly so. Deceptively simple, cheat-level artifact. Store pre-refined mana for instant use—no circle needed. Capacity-limited, sure, but divine beyond ancient relic. Irresistible even for Licht, with his woven mana rings.
Amid the chaos, the host smiled.
[Ah, electric atmosphere. I doubted my eyes too.]
[Now, bidding on the highlight: Miracle of the Heavens. Start 5 million silver!]
"5 million?!"
"Then..."
"6 million!"
"7 million!"
[6, then 7! 8 million from VIP!]
Bedlam. Reserved VIPs shouted wildly.
Glancing aside, Aila and Aren stared blankly at the pendant.
"Ah..."
Her eyes glued to the Miracle of the Heavens. A 5th-circle high mage—she knew its worth best.
"Why today of all days..."
"......"
"...No, whatever. We couldn't win it anyway. No need to stare. I'll keep the promise..."
"Whew... Lost my head for a moment. Rare stuff like this..."
Bids topped 20 million. VIP big-spenders dropped out; soon only Battenberg's second son and Byrneck mages remained.
"24 million!"
[24 million! Higher?]
"25 million!"
[25 from the masked noble!]
26. 27. 28. At 30 million+, the whole hall watched breathlessly.
When Byrnecks bid 35 million:
"50! 50 million!"
"......!"
The tall youth's sudden 50 million plunged the hall into stunned silence.
The host struggled to speak.
[50... 50 million!!!]
VIPs gawked like he'd lost his mind.
[50 million? Final call three times.]
"Kuh..."
[Sold to the VIP noble for 50 million on the Miracle of the Heavens!!!]
His amplified voice boomed. First claps sparked thunderous applause.
Clap clap clap clap clap.
"Hoo..."
The tall youth sighed deeply, elegantly waving from the railing. Nobility oozed—Battenberg lineage rang true.
Aila and Aren muttered.
"50 million... Even prepared, that's tough."
"Agreed, Lady. Top-tier even for Artal. But... Battenbergs use spears. Why that?"
"No idea... Someone needed it?"
[Next item.]
Post-Miracle, a veiled longsword-shaped object. Post-storm, reactions were muted.
"Another sword?"
"Over. Highlight's done. Nothing left."
"Hope for nice jewelry..."
[Attention! Auction's not over.]
The host desperately rallied interest.
[This... top three in Artal history.]
[Miss it, regret forever. Honestly... not the Miracle—this is the real highlight. The encore.]
"What?"
Battenberg's son blurted. Real highlight? Encore? After dropping 50 million unprecedentedly, he glared incredulously.
His excitement reignited murmurs.
"Encore? After the Miracle?"
"Makes no sense... Two of those in one auction?"
"Shh. Quiet."
[The true highlight of the 39th Artal Auction!]
Swish. Veil lifted.
"Golden... sword?"
"What is that? No ordinary blade..."
"Above the Miracle?"
Aila, staring intently, suddenly turned. Licht's eyes shook violently.
"Licht?"
"Orkin... why is that here..."
"Orkin? What're you—"
The host's voice boomed.
[Don't be shocked. Pure solarilium, forged in sunlight! All-solarilium treasured sword! Bestowed only on 5-star generals and above—Orkin's Light!]
"Orkin? Orkin Empire?"
"Wait... that sword...!"
[Behold!]
"...Ascension Sword."
[Ascension Sword! Orkin's Ascension Sword!! Starting 20 million silver!!!]
Licht whispered. The host's voice thundered loudest yet.