CHAPTER 60: 60

Aurevia stepped onto the obsidian stage with a grace that asked for no attention—and yet stole every breath within the grand chamber. A silver veil woven with soft enchantments concealed her face, catching the lamplight like stardust scattered on silk.

Her robe swept quietly behind her, unmarred by vanity or hesitation. She simply stood. A veiled woman beneath the glow of divine luminance.

No mana flared. No force declared. And still, the silence spread like a wave from her center.

The auction hall, tiered and vast, sat carved in layered enchantment. The ground floor brimmed with nobles, merchants, guildmasters, and adventurers.

Above them, encased in floating glass balconies, ninety-nine VIP suites pulsed with controlled mana. Private entrances, sound-proofed walls, wealth encased in architecture.

At the summit—wrapped in divine runes and encrypted arrays—was the lone shadowed balcony.

Where Alaric watched.

Aurevia’s voice rang out, clear and controlled.

"Welcome, esteemed guests, to the Black Aurora Auction. My name is Aurevia, and I shall be the hostess for tonight’s proceedings."

The hall did not erupt. It froze. The voice didn’t command silence—it wove it.

"Many of you traveled far, hoping to witness a national treasure... only to return with tales of awe. But my master deemed it unworthy to summon such distinguished guests for a single relic."

She allowed a moment’s pause.

"And so, in addition to the Grand Item, fifteen others shall be presented."

Shock. Genuine, unfeigned.

Eyes widened. Fans snapped shut. Papers slipped from fingers.

"Fifteen... more?"

"Did she say fifteen?"

"We weren’t told—this wasn’t in the brief!"

"VIPs,"

She continued, composed,

"you have been provided enchanted tablets listing tonight’s lots. General guests will witness each item in real time."

"Standard bidding procedures apply. Should your bid succeed, my master reserves the right of final approval. If rejected, the next highest bid shall claim the item."

A breath of tension pulled tight like a bowstring.

"Now, let us begin."

Behind her, shadows curled as Serineth deactivated the protective arrays. Cellione walked forward with the first item, bearing a velvet tray imbued with stasis runes.

"The first item we have on our auction today is a [Low-Tier Grade 3] artifact: Whisperfang – a curved dagger forged from moonglass and enchanted with spectral wind."

"It increases movement speed during combat and destabilizes nearby mana threads, perfect for silent assassination or dueling under layered wards."

"The starting price is 110,000 gold coins. Minimum bid increment is 1,000 gold."

A moment of silence lingered—then the bids surged like a breaking dam.

"120,000!"

"140,000!"

"150,000 from General Audience 1432!"

"170,000!"

"190,000!"

"200,000!"

The crowd pulsed with growing intensity as Aurevia calmly acknowledged each bid.

"We have 240,000 from VIP suite 12... any higher?"

"260,000!"

"280,000!"

"320,000!"

"420,000 gold from VIP 27..."

A pause.

"430,000 Gold Coins going once... twice... thrice—SOLD. Congratulations to VIP 27."

A shimmer of light marked the dagger’s teleportation to its new owner.

"On to the next item.[Mid-Tier Grade 3] — Varkoran’s Helm. A mental ward helmet crafted from aether-infused iron. Etched with deep runes to resist three attempts at mental intrusion before recharging. Favored by military commanders."

"Starting bid: 205,000 gold."

"220,000!"

"250,000!"

"280,000!"

"320,000!"

"350,000!"

"400,000 from VIP suite 14!"

"420,000!"

"450,000!"

"470,000 gold—any further bids?"

"470,000 Gold Coins going once... twice... thrice—SOLD. VIP 14 takes home the helm."

"Third item. A [High-Tier Grade 3] — Sealing Gauntlets of Caldor. Suppresses aura flow upon physical contact. Widely used in magical containment and elite duels."

"Opening at 320,000 gold."

"350,000!"

"420,000!"

"500,000!"

"590,000!"

"620,000!"

"700,000!"

"810,000 from VIP 19!"

"840,000!"

"860,000!"

"900,000..."

"943,000 from VIP 23. Any higher?"

"943,000 Gold coins once... twice... thrice—SOLD."

Murmurs followed. The price war had begun.

"We are already on the forth item today. It is a [Mid-Tier Grade 3]— Thornsteel Mantle. Enchanted with layered air matrices, disperses projectile velocity and nullifies low-grade explosive spells."

"Starting bid: 240,000 gold."

The audience, though catching its breath, leapt again.

"250,000!"

"290,000!"

"320,000!"

"350,000!"

"400,000!"

"460,000!"

"510,000!"

"590,000 from VIP 31."

"590,000 gold once... twice... thrice—SOLD."

"The fifth item is a [Low-Tier Grade 3]— Belt of Tempest Reserves. Stores and releases wind-type mana bursts for enhanced agility. Useful for rogues, scouts, or aerial combatants."

"Opening price: 180,000."

"200,000!"

"220,000!"

"250,000!"

"270,000!"

"310,000!"

"350,000!"

"380,000 gold going once... twice... thrice—SOLD."

"The sixth item. A [Peak-Tier Grade 3]. Things are getting interesting. The items name is Mirror of Oneiric Defense. Reflects the first spell cast upon the bearer within five seconds. Requires sharp mental acuity."

Gasps rose. A treasure of tactical power.

"Opening at 500,000."

"600,000!"

"750,000!"

"900,000!"

"1,000,000!"

"1,200,000!"

The entire floor tensed.

"1.3 million!"

"1.35 million!"

"1.4 million Gold Coins from VIP 8!"

"Going once... twice... thrice—SOLD."

"Nex up, a [Mid-Tier Grade 3] — Crimson Writ Ring. Grants access to ancestral bloodline memories for six minutes a day. Demands high mental clarity."

"Starting at 390,000."

"420,000!"

"460,000!"

"500,000!"

"620,000!"

"710,000!"

"810,000 from VIP 11!"

"850,000..."

"900,000 Gold Coins going once... twice... thrice—SOLD."

"Now we will end this session of auction with another [Peak-Tier Grade 3] item— Heart of the Storm. A mana crystal containing crystallized tempest mana. Used for breakthrough catalysis or offensive enhancement in lightning-based cultivation."

"Starting bid: 650,000."

"700,000!"

"820,000!"

"950,000!"

"1,100,000!"

"1,250,000!"

"1,400,000 from VIP 21!"

"Any further interest? Going once... going twice... thrice—SOLD."

The moment it ended, a breath escaped the hall like a collapsed dam. The pressure was real. Not a soul dared blink through the final lot.

Aurevia’s voice rang out again.

"The bidding was intense. But it will get even more intense as we will be introducing Grade four item. So now we enter a sixty-minute recess. VIPs may remain and transfer funds. General bidders, collect your purchases from the east wing counters.

The auction resumes in one hour. You can use this time for fund gathering because I assure you you don’t want to miss the last 8 item. Especially the general audience. They hadn’t been able to make even a single purchase. "

*****

✢═─༻༺═✢═─༻༺═✢

✶ I Reincarnated as an Extra ✶

✧ in a Reverse Harem World ✧

⊱ Eternal_Void_ ⊰

✢═─༻༺═✢═─༻༺═✢

*****

The obsidian glow dimmed slightly, offering some respite to the dazzled audience. The heavy aura of coin and competition gave way to a swirling tide of hushed plans, rapid commands, and silent recalculations.

In the general floor, panic simmered beneath courtly faces.

"We can’t compete at these rates,"

Muttered a viscount, his palms clammy over a half-used seal slip.

"If this is the entry level... then what’s next?"

Nobles, adventurers, rogue alchemists—all once confident in their bidding power—were now scribbling emergency letters. Scrolls flickered as magical messengers were dispatched, vanishing into violet ripples.

"Get to the treasury. Sell the spare estate. I don’t care. Bring it here."

Others simply slumped in their seats, shocked into immobility.

"The crystal alone... one-point-four million. And they called it Grade Three."

The implications weighed heavy.

If this was only the appetizer, the main course could devastate legacies.

In the balcony suites above, the world moved with grim efficiency.

A merchant king from the north adjusted his jade rings, already compiling reports.

"They’re using bait-tier pricing to mask truly divine items. Someone with deep cultivation insight selected these lots. This is no common guild auction."

A duchess gritted her teeth behind painted lips.

"Pull every merchant route. Call in every marker. We won’t be outbid by those prairie rats from the eastern valleys."

In another suite, a trio of masked elders from the Twin Fang Sect debated.

"We’ve seen nothing [Grade 4] yet. I fear the last lots will not be items... but opportunities."

"You mean... offers?"

"Or requests,"

Came the grim reply.

A young noble slumped in his seat, fanning himself.

"I came to brag about witnessing a national treasure... Now I’m auctioning my honor for leftover scraps."

But there were others—those whose eyes gleamed with a different light. Calculating. Scheming.

"This auction is too polished. The veil, the mana suppression... the aura that girl showed—controlled. Artificially limited."

"She’s stronger than she let on,"

Another noted.

"And she’s a slave,"

Someone added in a hush.

That word returned, coiled like a viper through the chamber.

Slave.

Owned.

Commanded.

To be so composed, to release a Rank Five aura only when pressed, to follow instructions to this degree of elegance—she was not just trained. She was dominated.

And that meant...

Whoever controlled her was powerful enough to suppress a national-level warrior like a chess piece.

No one dared voice it, but the thought ran like wildfire:

Do not offend them.

They remembered the moment it happened. A noble—arrogant, emboldened by heritage rather than merit—rose during the sixth lot.

He laughed.

"A veiled girl handling weapons of this caliber? We should be bidding on her, not her wares."

The room stilled.

Aurevia said nothing. She turned.

The moment her veil shifted, her eyes shimmered beneath. She raised a single hand.

FWOOSH—

Cold.

Unfiltered, divine, glacial cold swept the stage. Her aura, [Rank 5], bloomed like the wrath of winter incarnate.

Mana split. Crystals cracked. A thin sheen of frost webbed the walls. Silence fell like a guillotine.

The noble collapsed. His limbs trembled. His voice died.

Every general guest understood at once.

This wasn’t a show.

This wasn’t a play.

They had been allowed to breathe in this room. Allowed.

And from that moment forward, none questioned the veiled woman again.

In the east corridors, servants and messengers scrambled. Couriers poured through spell circles. Gold, treasures, ancestral heirlooms, contracts, tokens—whatever could be gathered was being summoned to the auction site.

Time ticked.

In the center of it all, the obsidian stage stood still.

As if watching.

Waiting.

Judging.

Because the true treasures had not even begun.

-To Be Continued