The thought of Nira Ashford flickered through Ethan Lyle’s mind for a fraction of a second before he crushed it. That girl was a headache he didn't need; the further the distance between them, the better he slept at night.
After polishing off his meal, Ethan found a quiet corner to wait for the auction to begin. Kieran Ji had been hyping up the gear and skill scrolls hitting the block today, and Ethan found himself actually interested. He wasn't lacking in the skill department—his arsenal was already bordering on the divine—but his equipment situation was pathetic. Aside from a single ring that granted a meager +10 to Spirit, he was effectively walking around in white-label trash.
That wouldn't fly during The Grand Trial.
The Trial wouldn't be like the Initiate’s Rift. It was a public spectacle, held under the watchful eyes of the elite. He couldn't just casually lob a Forbidden Incantation at every minor inconvenience without the authorities hauling him into an interrogation room. He needed proper gear to bridge the gap, but there was a glaring problem: Ethan Lyle was dead broke.
He glanced over at Kieran. Maybe I can sell the kid a dream? Play the mentor role and see if he picks up the tab?
As if summoned by the mere thought of a handout, Kieran Ji appeared, leading a small entourage of Verdant City’s wealthiest heirs. He’d waited until Ethan finished eating before daring to approach, his face split by a wide, eager grin.
"Everyone, listen up," Kieran announced, his voice booming with unearned confidence. "I want you to meet the man himself. This is Ethan Lyle."
The group of young nobles didn't look impressed. Their eyes raked over Ethan’s budget clothing—outfits that looked like they belonged in a bargain bin rather than a high-society gala. Skepticism turned into soft scoffs.
"Kieran, are you serious?" one of them asked, crossing his arms. "He looks more like your bodyguard's intern. You’re telling us this is the guy?"
Kieran’s smile only sharpened. These were the children of the city's power players, pampered and arrogant, but they understood one thing: raw power.
"Looks can be deceiving," Kieran said, his tone dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "The Unawakened don't get a seat at my table. But Ethan? Do you have any idea what level he hit in the Rift?"
"Well? Don't keep us in suspense," a girl in silk robes challenged.
"Level 16," Kieran deadpanned. "With an SSS-Rank Class."
The air seemed to vanish from the immediate area. The mocking grins evaporated, replaced by the heavy, stunned silence that usually followed a physical blow. In the world of the Awakened, strength was the only currency that never devalued.
"Lyle... Ethan Lyle," someone muttered, the name finally clicking. "Wait, he’s the one! The top scorer of the Initiate’s Rift. He didn't just win; he shattered the Verdant City record."
In a world where hitting Level 8 or 9 in the starting rift was considered a feat of genius, Level 16 was nothing short of monstrous. The disdain in their eyes flipped instantly into a desperate, hungry kind of respect.
Kieran stood tall, basking in their shock as if he were the one who’d cleared the Rift. Seeing his opening, Ethan decided it was time to start weaving the narrative.
"Kieran," Ethan said, his voice calm and leveled. "How are you feeling about your prospects for The Grand Trial?"
Kieran’s bravado faltered. "Honestly? Not great. I’m only Level 7. If I’m lucky, I might squeeze into a first-tier university, but the elite academies are out of reach."
Ethan let out a long, calculated sigh. "It’s a shame we can't head outside the city walls. I could have helped you grind a few levels, ensured you secured a top-tier slot."
Kieran’s head snapped toward him, eyes wide. "That’s impossible. The city is under lockdown for three days after the Rift closes to prevent power-leveling. It’s a hard rule."
"Is it?" Ethan leaned in slightly. "Because I heard the gate to The Grand Trial itself is located in the wastes beyond the walls."
Kieran’s breathing hitched. "You mean..."
The logic fell into place. When The Grand Trial officially commenced, the four gates of Verdant City would open. Candidates had to traverse the monster-infested wilderness to reach the entrance of the Trial grounds. It was the first "unofficial" test. Most students sprinted through that zone in terror, praying they wouldn't encounter a stray beast.
But Ethan wasn't talking about sprinting. He was talking about hunting.
"The monsters out there start at Level 10," Kieran whispered, his face pale. "It’s not the Rift, Ethan. People die out there every year."
"I’m Level 16, Kieran," Ethan reminded him, his voice steady. "The monsters near the wall won't touch me. But..." He paused, looking down at his empty hands. "I don't have the gear for a sustained carry. If I had the right kit, I could guarantee you'd walk into that Trial at Level 10 or higher. But as it stands, it’s too risky."
"Gear? You need gear?" Kieran dismissed the danger of the wastes the moment he saw the shortcut to prestige. "Ethan, that’s the easy part! I was just worried about the monsters."
"We’re a team now," Ethan said, injecting a note of iron-clad sincerity into his voice. "If I give my word, I keep it. I’ll be on the front lines. If a monster gets through, it’ll have to go through me first."
He let that sink in before delivering the killing blow: "You can't buy your way into a top-tier academy, Kieran. Not with all the money in Verdant City. But you can buy the tools to earn your way in."
Kieran’s eyes hardened with resolve. He was a businessman’s son; he knew a high-yield investment when he saw one. He knew Ethan’s class—a Forbidden Incantator—was a "short-wick" profession, destined for a brilliant but brief life. In his mind, he wasn't exploiting Ethan; he was providing him with a final taste of luxury in exchange for a golden ticket to his own future.
"Say no more," Kieran said, his voice firm. "Tonight’s auction? Whatever you need, consider it done. I’ll make sure you’re the most dangerous man in that wasteland."
Ethan smiled, a predator's warmth. "Then we have a deal. I’ll get you to Level 10, no matter what."
The surrounding heirs watched Kieran with pure envy. A Level 16 powerhouse offering to risk his life as a personal escort? It was the kind of opportunity that only happened in legends. If they hadn't been so concerned with their own status, they would have been lining up to beg Ethan for a spot in the party.
"Stay here," Kieran said, already moving toward his father. "I need to clear the budget with the old man. This isn't just an auction anymore; it's an investment."
A few minutes later, Kieran returned, looking like he owned the building. "It’s handled. My father gave me the green light. Anything you want, I’m bidding."
Ethan nodded, his mind already calculating. In the Awakening system, you could slot six pieces of equipment. There were no restrictions—you could wear six rings or carry six swords if you were crazy enough. But for the average Awakened, just finding six items that synchronized with their class was a financial nightmare. Most became "wage-slaves" for corporations just to afford a decent pair of boots.
Ethan Lyle was about to skip the line.
Clack.
The lights in the ballroom died instantly. The chatter vanished, replaced by the hushed, expectant silence of the elite. A single, piercing spotlight cut through the darkness, illuminating the center stage.
A woman stepped into the light. She was striking, draped in a gown that left little to the imagination and wearing a smile that could manipulate a saint.
"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen," she purred, her voice amplified by mana. "I am Clara, your host for this evening’s festivities. On behalf of the Gilded Vault, welcome. We have a spectacular catalog tonight, and I hope you brought your appetites—and your credits."
She bowed slightly, the movement choreographed to draw every eye in the room. No one dared a catcall or a whistle. The Gilded Vault was the largest auction house in the Dominion of Xia; disrespecting their staff was a quick way to find yourself blacklisted from the economy.
"We have one hundred lots tonight," Clara continued. "The first fifty are Skill Scrolls. The latter fifty? Pure, high-grade equipment. Let’s not waste time. Bring out the first item!"
A silk-covered tray was brought forward. Clara pulled the veil to reveal a shimmering scroll.
"Lot Number One: An Epic-tier Skill Scroll. Fire-element, optimized for Mage archetypes. We open the bidding at five hundred thousand credits."
The room erupted. Epic-tier skills were the backbone of any powerhouse.
"Five hundred ten!"
"Five hundred fifty!"
The numbers climbed with dizzying speed, eventually crossing the three-million mark. Ethan watched with detached amusement. Being a Forbidden Incantator meant he couldn't use standard scrolls—his powers unlocked naturally as he leveled—which was a blessing given the prices.
Finally, the gavel dropped. "Sold! To Lord Caelum Ashford for three million credits."
The room went quiet. No one was surprised. In Verdant City, you didn't outbid an Ashford unless you were looking for a blood feud.
The auction hammered on. Kieran snagged a Rare-grade sword skill for eight hundred thousand, looking pleased with himself. Ethan, however, leaned back and closed his eyes. He didn't care about the fluff. He was waiting for the steel.
"And that concludes our Skill portion of the evening," Clara announced, her smile widening. "Now, for what you’ve all been waiting for. The hardware."
She snapped her fingers. The first piece of equipment was wheeled out, hidden under a heavy crimson cloth.
"Lot Fifty-One," Clara said, her voice dropping to a low, thrilling hum as she whipped the cloth away. "A Rare-grade accessory: The Imperial Dragon’s Grace. This ring provides a flat 30% boost to Spirit and features the passive skill: Dragon Aura Blessing."
Ethan’s eyes snapped open. 30% Spirit? That wasn't just gear; that was a force multiplier for his Forbidden Incantations.
"Opening bid," Clara declared. "Eight million credits. Increments of one hundred thousand."