Chaos Beneath the Auction Block
Cronen’s original objective had almost certainly been the sword I was rumored to have put up for sale.
Yet the instant he laid eyes on the “Holy Relic” we presented, he threw himself into the bidding without a second thought.
After all, a sword that had already slipped through his fingers was yesterday’s news. It could easily be written off as the work of some shadowy faction targeting the Imperial Princess. But the Southern Temple burning down and the counterfeit relic shattering to dust? That catastrophe had not yet leaked to the public. If he hoped to see the Offering Festival through without his head rolling, securing a replacement relic was an absolute matter of survival.
Of course, a priest of his standing could hardly go asking around on the open market, nor would he have had the faintest clue where to look. So when one conveniently materialized beneath the auctioneer’s gavel, he had no choice but to swallow the bitter draught and bid by any means necessary. Watching Cronen fume in silent agony, his face turning an exquisite shade of liver-spotted purple even as he shouted his offer, I hid a sly smirk behind my hand.
“I shall send a courier at once to fetch the funds!” Cronen barked, glaring venomously at the platform. “The lot is mine! Do not dare let another soul lay a finger on it!”
“Yes, yes, of course, esteemed guest! We would never dream of it,” the auctioneer chirped with practiced servility. “Now then, let us proceed directly to our next lot!”
Cronen hissed a frantic whisper to the attendant at his side, and the man dashed off into the shadows—sent to retrieve the gold, no doubt.
On stage, the auctioneer cleared his throat with dramatic flair.
“A breathtaking evening, ladies and gentlemen! And now, the moment you have all been breathlessly awaiting. Tonight’s crowning jewel! I am well aware that many in this illustrious gathering came for this singular prize alone.”
At a subtle nod from the podium, Navira slipped backstage. A breath later, she returned carrying a long, slender wooden case cradled securely against her chest.
It was thin and elongated—the unmistakable silhouette of a box built to house a blade. The moment it came into view, eager murmurs rippled through the gallery like an electric current.
“Oh…”
“Could it truly be…?”
“Is that really the one?”
“Our establishment never pries into an item’s past!” the auctioneer declared, his voice swelling with theatrical pomp. “We ask no questions of where it came from; we simply deliver it into the hands of those who recognize its present worth!”
Ha. Look at him dressing up stolen contraband in velvet words. ‘Don’t ask how dirty our hands are, just pay up.’
Navira set the wooden case down beside the podium and vanished into the wings once more. When she reemerged, she was dragging a heavy iron cart. The iron wheels ground against the stone with a hideous, screeching grovel—screeech, screeech. In truth, it was less a cart and more a rolling iron cage, reinforced with thick, crisscrossing bars.
—Skreeeeek!
Thrashing inside was a living, breathing demonic beast. It bore the grotesque likeness of an overgrown vampire bat, its eyes burning like twin coals of fresh blood, its slick, glistening wings folded like sheets of necrotic hide. It slammed itself violently against the iron bars, baring needle-sharp fangs dripping with foamy spittle. Any ordinary observer would have recoiled from such visceral hostility, but the audience in the hall merely leaned forward, their eyes glittering with greedy anticipation.
“The premier acquisition of our house!” the auctioneer bellowed, arms thrown wide. “A sacred blade capable of banishing demonic beasts! Should we dare call it a Holy Sword? Ah, surely the heavens smile upon us this night! To behold a Holy Relic followed by a holy blade—my humble heart trembles, wondering if a divine revelation has descended upon us!”
Well, no divine revelation. Just me.
“The sheer audacity, Contractor! I am your one and only sacred blade! How dare these filthy mortals covet me so shamelessly! (｡•́︿•̀｡)”
‘Yes, yes, I know.’
“Now, allow us to demonstrate the marvelous prowess of this legendary weapon! Cast aside all fear, ladies and gentlemen! With this blade in hand, no man alive need tremble before the horrors of the wild! Rumors have circulated that drawing upon its power shaves away the wielder’s very lifespan, but our foremost appraisers have concluded that such claims are grossly exaggerated. Rest assured, our thorough inspection found not a single trace of any such curse!”
Well, of course not. It’s a total fake.
The weapon resting in that box was nothing more than an ordinary blade hastily assembled with glowing magic crystals borrowed from House Castrein.
To begin with, surprisingly few people had ever seen the genuine Emoticon Sword up close within the Imperial Palace. When chaos erupted during the demonic assault, I had spent the entire battle swinging the weapon while it blazed like a miniature sun. People remembered the blinding brilliance far more than the steel itself. The more the gossip spread through the streets, the more distorted the image became. And by nature, the Emoticon Sword looked like any well-crafted masterpiece on the outside. All we had to do was procure a sword of similar build and embed luminous magic crystals courtesy of Castrein into the hilt.
With an exaggerated bow, the auctioneer unlatched the lid and threw it open. A faint, pearlescent radiance spilled across the stage, illuminating the hall.
“By the gods, look at it!”
“The blade that slaughters demons…!”
“They say it’s a treasure of the imperial bloodline…”
“Didn’t rumors claim the sword actually talks?”
“Bah! That was just the little princess spinning tall tales!”
“Indeed. Terrified someone would take it from her, no doubt. She babbled about lost lifespans and whispering steel just to keep it for herself.”
“I heard anyone unworthy who touches it suffers divine retribution…”
The rumors had truly taken on a life of their own. I mentally clicked my tongue.
“Hmph! What’s so magnificent about that worthless scrap? （´＿｀） Are human eyes stuffed with sawdust? How could anyone look at that pathetic, frail, utterly mundane imposter and mistake it for my glorious self!”
‘Don’t pick a fight with a cheap replica.’
“I’m not jealous! (⊙︿⊙)!! I am merely weeping for the boundless stupidity of mortals who cannot recognize true nobility! But… hmph! Since Contractor crafted a crude fake that doesn’t even capture a tenth of my sublime magnificence just to keep me safely by your side, I suppose I shall forgive your indulgence!”
‘Right, right… thank you sooo much.’
“Why do you sound so completely drained?!”
While the sword and I bickered back and forth in my head, Navira stepped forward. Pulling a heavy brass key from her sleeve, she unlocked the iron cage. The heavy tumbler clicked open with a sharp, resonant snap. The bat-beast inside snarled, claws scraping furiously.
Then, she lifted the replica sword from the velvet cushions. Her leather-gloved hand gripped the hilt firmly. Nothing happened. No divine wrath, no fiery recoil. A collective mutter washed through the gallery.
“See? Pure fabrication.”
“No rejection at all!”
“A chosen wielder? Total nonsense. The little princess was lying through her teeth.”
My ears burned slightly, but I kept my composure.
“Now! Bear witness with your own eyes!” the auctioneer cried, stepping back. “This is the power of…!”
Navira raised the blade high, presenting it to the crowd. Every gaze in the room converged on the shimmering edge. The tension in the air was palpable. Would it burst into blinding radiance? Would it reduce the monster to ash in an instant?
Then—
Rumble.
A low, guttural vibration shuddered through the floorboards.
Ruuuummmble.
It was no trick of the ears. The bedrock beneath our boots was trembling. Phlux, who had been watching the stage in tense silence, shot to his feet. His polished composure fractured into outright alarm.
Beside him, Debbie rose without a sound, her eerie gaze fixing on the ceiling. Lisianthus gripped the pommel of his greatsword, his jaw hardening like chiseled flint.
“Contractor! ( ◎_◎) Demonic beast readings ahead! Real ones!” the Emoticon Sword shrieked inside my skull. “They’re coming from the lower level! At least twenty of them—no, more!”
“What in the world…?”
“What is that shaking?”
“Is the foundation giving way?”
“Auctioneer! What is happening down there!”
The auctioneer glanced around in sudden bewilderment, his oiled smile peeling away. “Ah… u-um… esteemed guests? Please, remain calm! It is nothing serious, merely an unexpected tremor. Our staff will immediately ascertain—”
The stage shattered.
Planks of hardwood exploded upward as a hulking shape tore through the platform from below, its gaping jaws clamping down hard on the auctioneer’s torso. A bloodcurdling scream tore from the man’s throat.
“Aaaaaargh! Help meee!”
“Eeek!”
“What is that thing?!”
Fortunately, Navira was far too seasoned to be caught off guard. The very second the floor buckled, she snatched the “demonic beast”—in reality, a trained vampire bat playing its part—hauled the fake sword to her chest, and bolted for the backstage exit with blinding speed. Seeing her vanish safely into the corridors, I exhaled and turned my full attention to the hall.
It was utter pandemonium.
The stone tiles and wooden decking were bursting open in violent geysers of dust as a horde of demonic beasts surged up from the subterranean depths. Their shapes were hideous and varied—foul birds with grossly overgrown, sickle-shaped beaks; bloated rodents whose incisors curved like elephant tusks; serpents armored in barbed scales that hissed through the gloom, snapping at anything with a pulse.
Because the auction had been held in absolute secrecy, the venue was tucked deep underground. There were virtually no viable exits. Terrified nobles and merchants surged toward the solitary doorway, trampling over one another in their desperation to flee, only to be overtaken as the beasts pounced into the tangled mass of limbs.
Debbie, Phlux, and I formed a tight defensive triangle, covering each other’s flanks. Lisianthus stood at the outermost perimeter, his heavy blade carving a protective crescent through the air. For the moment, the beasts were fixated on the screaming, stampeding crowd rather than our quiet corner, but our safety was a razor-thin illusion.
“Your Highness, we must evacuate immediately!” Phlux shouted over the din of screams.
Tightening my grip on the true Emoticon Sword at my hip, I raised my voice: “Where to?”
Debbie scanned the chaotic hall, her tilted head snapping toward the ceiling. “Up!”
Crash! Craaack! Floors splintered, mahogany tables shattered into flying kindling, and the screams of the trapped echoed off the stone walls. My eyes narrowed as I braced for the climb.