The city pulsed with life—dense, vibrant, and humming with the rhythm of modernization. Above its steel skyline, where glass towers clawed at the heavens, sleek flying cars glided soundlessly along aerial lanes. Their engines purred softly, more like whispers compared to the chaos of human voices down below.
Lein, Laras, and Efan walked with the crowd along a wide, mirror-polished sidewalk. This was the place where the Arcteron Auction would be held—a sprawling gacity that served as a playground for elites and power-seekers alike.
According to the rumors circulating among adventurers, the auction was open exclusively to those of King-tier and above. Rare treasures were expected, but whispers spoke of sothing even greater—sacred relics and high-grade artifacts, the kind one couldn't find even on the black market, let alone in conventional shops.
Efan led the group, his steps light and his expression brimming with excitent. Suddenly, he ca to a stop and turned to look back at Lein and Laras, who were walking side by side behind him.
"Brother Lein, I think the place is still pretty far. Why don't we just take public transport?" he asked, a hint of a pout in his voice. Beads of sweat glistened at his temples—not much, but enough to show he wasn't thrilled about walking any further.
Lein caught up to him, his pace calm and unhurried. He flashed a faint smile, seemingly unbothered.
"We just finished eating. A short walk won't kill you—might even help you shed a bit of that belly," he replied lightly, then turned his attention back to Laras without giving Efan a chance to protest.
"By the way, you said you've loved dancing since elentary school?" he asked, his voice laced with genuine interest. His gaze was warm, and his expression livelier than usual.
Laras nodded with a serene smile, her eyes sparkling as if she were recalling sothing sweet. She began to speak, her voice gentle, just loud enough for Lein to hear.
Behind them, Efan stared at their backs, brows furrowed. His expression mixed fatigue and bitterness, as if the only thing heavier than his steps was the feeling brewing in his chest.
"Have I already been forgotten?" he thought gloomily, frozen in place amidst the bustling crowd, like a statue stripped of purpose.
None of them noticed that, in one of the distant high-rises, soone was watching.
"Huff…"
A thin trail of smoke curled from the lips of a man in a leather jacket, standing at the edge of a rooftop. The wind carried the ashes from his cigarette into the sky, scattering them like mories on the breeze.
With calm precision, he pulled a tablet-like device from his coat pocket. The screen lit up, displaying clear, zood-in images of Lein and his companions—tagged, mapped, and marked.
"Tenth target confird," he murmured, a faint smile tugging at his lips. It wasn't a smile of joy, but the quiet satisfaction of a man checking off the last item on a long to-do list.
For a mont, his eyes shimred with a strange light. Then the glow faded as he took one last drag of his cigarette. Smoke billowed one final ti before his figure vanished from the rooftop—gone as swiftly as morning mist devoured by the sun.
All that remained were ashes, drifting down to the concrete like dust and secrets in the wind.
Unaware that a distant pair of eyes had been tracking them, Lein and the others continued walking. Eventually, they arrived in front of a towering structure with semi-transparent glass walls that shimred under the afternoon light. At the center of the facade glead a golden eight-pointed star—bold, radiant, and unmistakable.
"Birthstar Chamber of Comrce," Lein murmured, his eyes tracing the building's grandeur. It stood like a monunt to wealth and power.
Several well-dressed individuals entered through the main doors. So wore robes adorned with noble family emblems, while others bore the look of elite collectors. All of them carried themselves with practiced confidence, like they belonged here.
"We finally made it," Efan grinned, eyes shining with anticipation. He rubbed his palms together, as excited as a child about to enter an amusent park.
"Calm down, Efan. It's not like you've never seen high-grade artifacts before," Laras said softly, though there was a subtle edge in her tone.
She glanced at him with a small smile, but her eyes betrayed mild annoyance. "Rember, we're here on vacation—not on a shopping spree. Got it?"
Efan winced and nodded sheepishly. "Sorry, Sister Laras," he muttered, raising his hands in mock surrender. His smile tried to lighten the mood, but didn't quite succeed.
Throughout the walk, Laras had spent most of her ti chatting with Lein. Their conversation flowed effortlessly, ranging from childhood mories to their thoughts on music and dance. She was starting to feel comfortable—beginning to see a different side of Lein: warr, more relaxed than she'd expected.
Unfortunately, Efan kept interrupting with pointless jokes or offhand comnts. He ant well, but his timing often ruined the mont.
Truthfully, none of them had particularly high expectations for the Arcteron Auction. Despite its rising reputation, it still didn't asure up to the five-star auction houses. Claims of legendary relics and high-tier spirit artifacts were likely just hype—'high-tier' was a very subjective term in the auction world.
Lein gave a faint shake of his head at the brief exchange between Laras and Efan. With a composed step, he walked ahead into the building.
"Co on. Let's go in," he said, short and firm.
Laras and Efan quickly followed, not wanting to fall behind.
Past the main entrance, they were greeted by a vast corridor with towering pillars carved with softly glowing arcane patterns. Floating crystal ornants drifted through the air above them, creating a srizing illusion—like stars slowly turning in the sky.
In the middle of the hall, a large hologram projected the day's auction list, complete with rotating 3D models of the items to be sold.
Guests milled about—so conversing with silver-robed receptionists, others studying interactive info panels along the walls.
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