"The starting bid: eight million," Clara announced, her voice cutting through the sudden, suffocating silence of the hall.
The air in The Gilded Vault shifted instantly. This wasn't just another skill scroll. In this world, gear was categorized into seven rigid tiers: Low, Medium, High, Rare, Epic, Legendary, and Divine. But unlike skills, which any Awakened could refine through combat, high-tier equipment was a bottleneck controlled by the elite. Only those who achieved an S-Rank or higher during their Class Awakening Ritual in a Craft-Class Vocation had the right to even touch a forge.
Combatants leveled through blood and survival. Crafters leveled through gold. To progress from a Low-tier Smith to a Master Forger or the mythical Grand Artificer required a mountain of resources that would bankrupt a small nation. Even in a place like Verdant City, the ceiling was Advanced-tier. A Master Forger's work was a ghost story—something everyone talked about but no one ever saw.
Until now. The Imperial Dragon's Grace Ring wasn't just jewelry; it was a masterpiece that could only have been birthed by a Master Forger.
Ethan Lyle felt his jaw tighten. A 30% boost to Spirit? It was obscene. His own Forbidden Incantation, Samsara Burn, provided a 100% boost, but the cost was his very life force. If some trust-fund brat decked themselves out in six of these rings, they’d be walking around with a 180% passive buff without breaking a sweat. It was the ultimate equalizer—the reason a 'geared' Awakened could slaughter ten 'naked' ones without blinking.
The price, however, was enough to make his internal organs ache. Eight million was just the floor. If the previous bidding wars were any indication, this would clear twenty million easily. Ethan did some quick mental math; he’d have to sell his kidneys several hundred times over to afford a single band of that gold.
Fortunately, he wasn't the one paying. He had Kieran Ji’s father.
"Nine million!" Mr. Ji’s voice rang out, authoritative and immediate. He didn't just bid; he signaled intent.
But the room was full of sharks.
"Nine point two!"
"Ten million!"
"Twelve!"
They all knew the score. In Verdant City, wealth was common, but Rare-tier artifacts were nonexistent. This was a once-in-a-decade opportunity.
"Fifteen million!" Mr. Ji barked, his eyes fixed on the stage. The jump was a power move, a clear warning from Vance Corporation: This belongs to us.
The field thinned. A few desperate bids sputtered out, but when Mr. Ji hit eighteen million, the room finally fell into a tense, heavy hush.
Mr. Ji allowed a thin, satisfied smile to play across his lips. Eighteen million was a king's ransom, but to secure his son’s future in a top-tier academy? It was a bargain. Besides, he looked at Ethan out of the corner of his eye. The boy was a Forbidden Incantator—a class known for its terrifying power and tragically short lifespan. When Ethan eventually burnt out and died in a few years, all this high-end gear would simply flow back to Kieran anyway. It wasn't an expense; it was a long-term loan.
"Eighteen million, going once," Clara called, the gavel hovering. "Going twice..."
She took a breath to seal the deal. "Sold to Vance Corp—"
"Twenty million."
The voice was a lazy, arrogant drawl that drifted from the back of the hall like cigarette smoke. The room turned as one. To bid was business, but to wait until the final millisecond was a deliberate insult—a declaration of war against Vance Corporation.
Mr. Ji’s expression soured instantly, his eyes narrowing like a hawk's. But when he saw the bidder, the anger turned into a flicker of genuine shock.
The man was portly, his hair slicked back into a shimmering grease-trap of a pompadour. He wore a mask of grandfatherly kindness that didn't reach his cold, calculating eyes.
"Kensen," someone whispered. "The King of the Underground."
"Is he insane? Why is he picking a fight with Vance now?"
The murmurs rippled through the crowd. Kensen hadn't made a move in years, but everyone knew that while the corporations owned the sunlit streets of Verdant City, the shadows belonged to him.
Mr. Ji forced his features into a mask of polite confusion. He didn't want this fight. "Mr. Kensen. I wasn't aware I had offended you."
Kensen smiled, a row of teeth that looked like tombstones. "Offended? Don't be so dramatic, Ji. It’s an auction. High bidder wins. I simply took a liking to the ring. Is that a crime?"
His eyes flickered toward Ethan for a fraction of a second. You think you can hide him behind your corporate shield? Kensen thought.
Ethan met the man’s gaze, his pulse steady despite the sheer killing intent radiating from the gangster. Beside him, Mr. Ji was still trying to play the diplomat.
"Twenty-one million," Mr. Ji ventured, testing the waters.
"Twenty-two," Kensen replied instantly, his tone bored.
Mr. Ji felt a cold drop of sweat slide down his neck. This wasn't about the ring. Kensen was hunting. "Mr. Kensen, if Vance Corporation has stepped on your toes, please, speak plainly."
Kensen leaned forward, his voice dropping to a low, lethal hiss that only reached those in the immediate vicinity. "Speak plainly? You slaughter my men, burn my property, and then ask me to be polite? You’ve sent your declaration of war, Ji. I’m just here to sign it. I’m going to watch your empire crumble."
Ethan had burned Kensen’s farm and thirty of his enforcers to ash only hours ago, and now here he was, standing right behind the heir of Vance Corporation. To Kensen, the narrative was obvious: Mr. Ji had hired a hitman to cripple his operations.
Mr. Ji’s brain stalled. War? Slaughtered men? He had no idea what the man was talking about, but the threat was crystal clear. I’m going to watch your empire crumble.
The diplomat in Mr. Ji died. If Kensen wanted a fight, he’d get one. Vance Corporation didn't build its fortune on cowardice.
"If that’s how you want to play it, Kensen, then let’s follow the rules of the house," Mr. Ji said, his voice dropping an octave. "Thirty million!"
The room exploded.
Thirty million for a Rare-tier item was lunacy. For that price, you could almost scout the black markets for a low-grade Epic. But for Mr. Ji, it wasn't about the gold anymore. It was about dominance. In the ledger of Verdant City, Kensen might be the king of the dirt, but Mr. Ji was the king of the vault.
Kensen’s smile vanished, replaced by a dark, simmering rage. Even for him, thirty million was a painful sum to top, and The Gilded Vault didn't accept IOUs. He realized he had reached the limit of his liquid capital for the night.
"Thirty million it is," Kensen spat, leaning back. "Enjoy your trinket while you still have fingers to wear it."
The gavel finally fell. The Imperial Dragon's Grace Ring was theirs.
Back in the private box, Mr. Ji was vibrating with fury. "That maniac... what is he talking about? I haven't touched his people!"
Ethan leaned in, his voice calm and analytical, playing the role of the observant protégé perfectly. "Don't let him get in your head, Mr. Ji. When a shark wants to bite, any excuse will do. A 'lost soldier' is just a pretext. Do you really think Kensen cares about his men? He’s looking for a reason to move on Vance."
Mr. Ji paused, his anger turning into cold realization.
Ethan continued the lie, weaving it into a masterpiece. "Kensen has been trying to go legitimate for years, but the market is saturated. He can't compete. But if he absorbs Vance Corporation? He gets a turnkey empire. He isn't mad about his men, Mr. Ji. He’s been planning this takeover for a long time. Today was just him showing his hand."
A shiver of genuine fear traced Mr. Ji’s spine. It made perfect sense. The "dead men" were a false flag—a classic casus belli. If he hadn't been warned, he might have been caught off guard by a coordinated strike.
"Ethan... you have a sharp mind," Mr. Ji said, wiping his brow. "I was too close to the fire to see the shape of the flames. Thank you."
"We’re family, Mr. Ji," Ethan said, flashing a blindingly white, innocent smile. "Kieran is my brother. Your house is my house."
"And you'll always have a place in it," Mr. Ji replied, moved by the boy's apparent loyalty. "Stay at the Ji Estate. It’s safer there, and we need to prepare."
A waiter arrived, presenting the ring on a velvet cushion. The dragon motif seemed to writhe in the light, glowing with an inner, ancient power. Mr. Ji didn't even look at it; he handed it straight to Ethan.
"Take it. Let's see if it fits."
As Ethan slid the band onto his finger, a wave of warmth surged through his arm, soothing the jagged edges of his mana channels like a hot bath on a freezing night.
[Imperial Dragon's Grace Ring]
Rank: Rare
[Effect] +37% Spirit (Reforging Available)
[Stamina] 90/91
Active Skill: [Dragon Aura Blessing]
The wearer is shielded by Draconic Providence, increasing Fate Points by 10%.
Fate Points. Ethan’s heart skipped. It was a hidden stat—the difference between finding a legendary grimoire at the bottom of a cliff or being hit by a bus on a clear day. Combined with the percentage-based Spirit boost, the ring was worth every penny of Mr. Ji's thirty million.
"Thank you, Mr. Ji," Ethan said, his voice ringing with "sincerity." "I promise you, I’ll carry Kieran into the top academy myself if I have to."
"I know you will, son. Now, what else do you need? Don't be shy—if it helps us win this war, the checkbook is open."
Mr. Ji was fully committed now. Over the next hour, he outbid Kensen on every piece of gear Ethan pointed at, paying nearly 50% over market value just to spite the gangster and arm his new "loyal" enforcer.
By the time the auction reached its climax, Ethan was fully kitted out:
[Ring of the Azure Tempest] (High-tier)
+15% Spirit. [Thunder Amplification]: Lightning skills deal 20% more damage.
[The Yin & Yang Bracelets] (High-tier)
+40% Spirit. [Twin Harmony]: Constant passive health regeneration and wound closure.
[Moonscorch Pendant] (High-tier)
+200 Flat Spirit.
The synergy was terrifying. Between the items, Ethan’s Spirit boost sat at a staggering 85%. At Level 16, his base Spirit was now effectively 1,088—and that was without activating his Forbidden Incantation.
He toyed with the Yin & Yang Bracelets. Beyond the stats, they were the perfect cover. Now, when his Undying Constitution healed a fatal wound in seconds, he could just point to the glow of his jewelry.
"Ethan," Mr. Ji said, looking at the final items on the docket. "You’ve got the firepower. Now you need a shield. There’s a suit of enchanted soft-mail coming up in the final three lots. High defense, lightweight. It’s yours."
Ethan nodded, watching Kensen across the room. The gangster was fuming, his face a mask of bruised ego. Ethan smiled. He had the gear, the protection of a billionaire, and a perfect scapegoat for his crimes.
The game was just beginning.