CHAPTER 120: AN UPRISING EMERGENCY-4.

"Hey, I’m back," Azhriel said as he stepped back into the lounge.

The sound of applause and the host’s cheerful voice echoed from below the hall.

"And the Map of Fog Ruins is sold!" the host announced loudly. The crowd erupted briefly, and as expected — just like in the game — Arianne had won the final bid.

"Oh, congrats, Arianne," Azhriel said with a smile.

"Thanks," she replied softly, then tilted her head. "But where did you go?"

"Oh, I just met a friend outside. Took a bit longer than I thought," he said casually, brushing it off. "Anyway, since the auction’s over, let’s go."

"Okay," Arianne agreed, rising from her seat.

"Ahh, finally," Kevin groaned, stretching his arms. "That was one long auction."

The others chuckled lightly, gathering their things.

Just as they were about to leave, the door opened again — and the same butler who had escorted Azhriel earlier stepped inside, bowing politely.

"I hope you all had a pleasant time bidding," the butler said respectfully. "However, there is still one final item left for auction, sir."

Azhriel’s eyes narrowed slightly.

One more item?

That wasn’t part of the game’s original sequence. Which meant... another deviation.

Still, he stayed silent and decided to listen. Not everything in this world followed the game perfectly — he knew that better than anyone.

"Oh? What is it?" Raymond asked, raising a brow.

"Yeah, is it something special? You folks even cleared out everyone who was sitting down there," Samuel said, glancing toward the empty seats below the balcony.

"Yes, sir. It’s quite special," the butler said with a slight bow. "It’s an item reserved only for select VIPs. Please wait just a little longer, and it will be brought in."

"Alright," Azhriel said. The others nodded in agreement.

A few minutes passed before the sound of footsteps echoed from below. Several workers entered, carefully pushing a large covered object onto the stage.

It was the biggest item they’d seen all day — tall and square-shaped, draped entirely in deep purple cloth.

"Now, dear guests," the host’s voice rang out with excitement. "I thank you for your patience. But I assure you, this final piece will make your wait worthwhile!"

The VIP’s murmured in anticipation.

"And now..." the host paused dramatically, gripping the edge of the cloth, "I present to you—our final item!"

He pulled the cloth away with a swift motion.

The entire hall seemed to fall silent.

Even from their booth, everyone’s eyes went wide the moment they saw what lay beneath.

"Huh..." Elizabeth’s voice broke the stillness, faint and disbelieving.

"What the fuck," Kevin muttered, his voice trembling with shock.

"Holy shi—" Samuel started, but the words never finished.

A sharp sound echoed.

Swish!

Followed by the violent crack of splintering wood.

"You bastards!" Raymond roared, his fist crushing through the armrest beside him. His eyes blazed like fire, fury radiating off him in waves.

Before the sound could carry beyond their booth, Azhriel moved instantly. With a single flick of his hand, a thin layer of mana spread outward — a sound barrier, sealing their voices inside.

Even so, the tension in the room was suffocating.

The others stared in disbelief at the stage below.

Only Caelyn, Arianne, and Sydelle managed to keep their composure — though their eyes were shocked and sharp.

Azhriel’s expression, however, had gone completely blank. Inside, his thoughts were in chaos.

No. No, no, no... What the hell is this?

His eyes fixed on the cage below.

A large, reinforced structure of black steel stood on the stage — its bars glowing faintly with mana seals. And inside...

A woman lay motionless on the cold metal floor.

Her long green hair shimmered faintly under the lights, and her slender ears revealed her heritage clearly — an elf.

But that wasn’t what froze Azhriel’s breath.

It was who she was.

His mind reeled, trying to make sense of it.

That’s... the Royal Guard Maera...? The personal bodyguard of the Third Prince?

It made no sense.

Just moments ago, he had overheard the guards talking about her disappearance — about how both she and the Third Prince had gone missing.

And now, here she was... locked in a cage, being sold like a mere object.

His jaw clenched.

This wasn’t just a deviation from the plot.

It was a complete distortion — something that wasn’t supposed to exist in the world at all.

Below, the host continued speaking with a wide, rehearsed smile, unaware of the storm building in the upper booth.

"Now, for this very special and rare item, a captured High Elf in perfect condition — an exiled transcendent rank warrior of the Royal Guard — the starting bid shall begin at—"

But Azhriel didn’t hear the rest.

His eyes had gone cold — dangerously cold — as the mana in the air around him began to ripple faintly.

He was thinking.

Why?

Because if the third prince of the royal family were to die here, without his guards, inside Mosseira City—a city governed by one of the Seven Great Families—the consequences would be beyond repair.

Even imagining it sent a chill down his spine. He drew in a deep breath, forcing his racing mind to steady.

"Stop, Raymond!" Chloe called out, reaching to grab his arm just as he was about to storm toward the stage.

But Raymond didn’t stop. His face was twisted with anger.

In this world, slavery was a crime punishable by death. It hadn’t always been this way—but after the Great Cataclysm, when the surviving races united, the decree had been made absolute.

Of course, there were still those who defied the law, trading slaves in secret.

But to do it here, in public—to refer to a living being as an item—that was unforgivable.

And for Raymond, that was enough. His fury burned too bright to think clearly.

"Raymond, stop! You’ll get yourself in trouble!" Chloe shouted again, but he didn’t hear her.

He reached the door, hand outstretched to throw it open—

"Get back, Raymond."

The cold voice cut through the tension like a blade.

Azhriel had finished thinking. His tone was calm, but it carried a weight that made even the air grow still.

Raymond froze, turning toward him. "Tell me, Azhriel... are you really that heartless?" he asked, his voice shaking with frustration.

Azhriel’s gaze didn’t waver. "Heartless or not, I don’t care. But you need to calm down."

"Calm down?!" Raymond snapped, his voice rising. "How can I calm down when there’s someone—someone caged—being sold like that?!"

His fists trembled, golden light faintly leaking from between his fingers.

But Azhriel’s expression didn’t change. His cold blue eyes remained fixed on the stage ahead, his mind already working several steps ahead.

"And what will you do about it?" Azhriel finally asked, his voice low yet sharp as he turned his head toward Raymond, meeting his furious gaze head-on.

"Go and fight them? The auction house that brings in thirty percent of the Mosseira Family’s total income?" His tone grew colder with every word. "This isn’t something kids like us can meddle with easily. And if we did, it wouldn’t stop here. The repercussions would reach your family—your parents."

Raymond flinched slightly, but Azhriel continued before anyone could speak.

"Calm that anger down and think with a rational mind. Think of the consequences your actions as the son of the Dawnlight Family would cause." His words were firm, measured—like someone who had already seen the outcome play out a thousand times before.

"Then what do you want me to do?" Raymond said, his voice shaking as he clenched his fists tighter. "Just stand here and watch someone being sold?"

No one spoke. Even the others—their friends—looked at Azhriel, unsure of what to say. The air was heavy, their thoughts the same: should they really do nothing?

"Nothing," Azhriel said flatly, breaking the silence. "I want you to do nothing. Because whatever happens next... I’ll handle it."

His words drew everyone’s attention immediately.

"That’s why you’ll all sit back down," he added, eyes glinting faintly as he turned toward the stage. "Those bastards have already started."

On the stage, the host’s voice rang out again, full of excitement.

"Seventy thousand golds!"

Another voice quickly followed, this time deeper, from a different lounge.

"Eighty thousand golds!"

The crowd buzzed—two powerful nobles were fighting fiercely for the unconscious woman in the cage.

And then, amidst the rising tension, a calm voice echoed through the hall.

"Two thousand platinum coins."

The entire place went silent.

It was Azhriel.

The host froze, blinking as if he hadn’t heard correctly. One platinum coin equaled a hundred gold coins. Azhriel had just raised the bid by a hundred and twenty thousand golds.

For a heartbeat, no one moved. No one even breathed. The crowd, the nobles, even the host—all stunned.

It was overwhelming.

The main cast turned toward Azhriel, their jaws slack, disbelief written across their faces.

Raymond’s eyes widened. "What... did you just..."

Azhriel leaned back in his seat, eyes half-closed, utterly calm amid the shock.