The days didn't fly by as quickly as I wanted them to, and I had to find ways to use my time while waiting for the auction day.The shack atop the hill became my sanctuary, and within its modest confines, I embarked on a journey of self-improvement.

The decision to start working out stemmed from a desire to channel my restlessness into something productive. Each morning, as the sun painted the sky with hues of dawn, I initiated a routine that gradually became a ritual. Push-ups, sit-ups, and running formed the foundation of my physical endeavors.

In the confined space of my shack, I improvised, using a pillow as a makeshift punching bag. The rhythmic sounds of exertion echoed against the walls, a testament to the determination that fueled my newfound discipline. As I pushed myself to physical limits, I couldn't help but draw parallels between the effort exerted in the pursuit of strength and the looming changes awaiting me.

The routine became more than just a physical exercise; it was a metaphorical preparation for the challenges ahead. Each push-up, every sit-up, and the beat of my feet against the ground became a silent vow—an affirmation that I was ready to face the uncertainties that lay beyond.

As the night draped its velvety curtain over the landscape, I made my way through the familiar streets of Rusthaven towards the auction facility. The city, usually buzzing with its own unique energy, now hummed with a heightened anticipation. Neon lights flickered, casting vibrant hues upon the pavement, guiding me toward the nexus of transformation—the auction.

I approached the entrance, where the subtle hum of excitement seemed to intensify. The atmosphere crackled with possibilities as attendees exchanged glances, each harboring their own vision of the future. The distant glow of New Arcadia beckoned, promising a departure from the shadows of Rusthaven.

Dropping off my salvaged items to Ludel, he gave his usual spiel about how the clan takes 30%. I waved off the information, a familiar routine that had lost its power to irritate me over time, and made my way to the auction stands.

The stands were a sea of faces, each one harboring a unique story etched in the backdrop of Rusthaven's struggles. The auctioneer's voice echoed through the venue, setting the stage for the transformation of possessions into potential.

As I took my place among the eager bidders, the rhythmic cadence of the auctioneer's announcements and the palpable energy in the air created an atmosphere of anticipation. The items on display, each holding a piece of someone's history, were now up for grabs.

The bidding commenced, a dance of numbers and determination. The auctioneer's gavel punctuated the air, marking the ascent of dreams to new heights. My eyes were fixed on the items, but my mind wandered to the journey that awaited me in New Arcadia.

However, my musings came to an abrupt halt as a man tapped on my shoulder. I turned to face him, a stranger in the midst of the bustling auction. He looked like an average Joe, with a cigarette dangling from his mouth and a dark, long cloak that partially concealed a sword strapped to his side.

His presence, unexpected and intriguing, sparked a curiosity within me. The rhythmic cadence of the auctioneer's voice continued, but I found myself momentarily detached from the bidding spectacle.

"Quite the lively auction, isn't it?" the man remarked, his voice a low murmur amid the auction's symphony.

I nodded, a subtle acknowledgment of the obvious. "Yes, it's always a spectacle."

"Do you happen to know who runs these auctions?"

At that question, I immediately sensed that the man wasn't from around here, and I made a mental note not to be so careless with my words in his presence. "I'm not sure." I lied.

The man leaned in close, his voice a hushed whisper that carried a weight of secrecy. "Do you know why I chose to speak to you over anyone in the auction?" In a swift motion, he revealed a shiny badge from the depths of his cloak. The emblem on the badge gleamed in the dim light.

It read, "New Arcadia Galactic Coalition Unit Vigil Branch."

The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

My eyes widened, a mixture of surprise and realization sweeping over me. The man was in the military, and he was inquiring about the illegal activities ongoing in Rusthaven. I had no choice but to comply with his questions from here on out, and the uncertainty of the coming minutes loomed over me.

"Why don't we take a quick step outside, kid?" he suggested. Without waiting for my response, he gestured for me to follow him. The bustling energy.

Walking outside, the cold air greeted me, and it only seemed to enhance the nervousness building up within me.

"Now, I'm not here to cause commotion or really deal with any of the illegal stuff that's going on here. I'm here on orders for one reason and one reason only," the man stated. "Now that I have your full attention, I am going to ask a few questions, and it is in your best interest to answer them."

I nodded.

"Do you know anything about a trespassing at the New Arcadia Dump? Looking at the auction, it seemed most of the items being auctioned off are city scraps, and you provided the auction with most of the items."

The nervousness that had built up within me turned into pure fear. Had they found me? The connection between the scavenged items and the trespassing incident at the dump now cast a shadow over my actions. The realization that I might be under scrutiny from the Galactic Coalition Unit tightened its grip on my apprehension.

"I—I don't know anything about any trespassing," I stammered, my mind racing to find a plausible explanation. "I just collect things I find. I didn't steal or trespass."

The man scrutinized me for a moment, his eyes narrowing as if assessing the truth in my words. The tension in the air lingered, and I braced myself for whatever consequences might follow.

The man's gaze held steady for what felt like an eternity, his scrutiny unyielding. In that moment, the auctioneer's voice and the ambient sounds of the bustling auction became distant echoes, drowned out by the weight of the impending revelation.

After a prolonged silence, the man finally spoke, his tone measured. "We received reports of a disturbance at the dump coinciding with the auction items you provided. Someone triggered a significant Etherial disturbance, and the Golactic Coalation Vigil Branch is here to investigate."

My heart pounded in my chest as I grappled with the implications of his words. Disturbance at the dump?

Could it have been the unexpected awakening of my latent Etherial abilities? The stones, the memories, and now this unforeseen consequence converged in a complex tapestry of uncertainty.

"I swear, I didn't mean to cause any trouble," I pleaded, desperation edging into my voice. "I'm just trying to make a living, survive in this city."

The man's expression softened slightly, as if detecting a genuine plea within my words. "I'm not here to accuse you, brat. I've already decided I won't turn you in. I'm just curious about how you managed to make it past four guards. Your ethereal potency carries the power of my pinkie."

The tension eased slightly with his assurance, though the mystery of the Etherial disturbance still lingered in the air. As we walked away from the auction, the city's lights created a kaleidoscope of colors against the night sky.

"I honestly don't know how it happened. I'm not even sure what you mean by 'ethereal potency' or how it's related to what occurred," I confessed, glancing at the badge he had shown earlier. The emblem of the Golactic Coalation Vigil Branch shimmered in the dim light.

The man sighed, the smoke from his cigarette dissipating into the night air. "Etherial potency is the measure of one's connection to the Ether, the unseen force that permeates everything. Most people have negligible levels, but there are outliers. People like you."

"Like me?" I questioned, puzzled.

"Yeah, like you," he continued. "You might not be aware of it, but you've got a higher ethereal potency. It's like a sixth sense—some folks can feel it. And at the dump, you set off a reaction strong enough for even a novice to sense. But now it’s calmed down and it shows your true level, which is as I stated, the power of my pinkie.

The revelation left me dumbfounded. A latent connection to the Ether? It seemed surreal, almost fantastical.

The man paused, considering his words carefully. "I'm not here to cause trouble for someone just trying to make a living. But you need to be careful. The Ether is a force that can be unpredictable, and people who can sense it might not always have good intentions. You might want to learn more about your abilities, kid. It could save your life someday."

I nodded my head.

He raised an eyebrow and looked around. "You know, with your abilities, you could get out of here, right? Make a name for yourself out in the universe?"

"I know. I've had the plan of getting out of here for as long as I could remember," I stated, sort of opening up to the man. "My plan was to scavenge for scraps, sell them at the auction, and pay for New Arcadia citizenship, then join the military."

A small smirk made its way across the man's face. "I see. Good plan." He threw his used-up cigarette to the ground and stepped on it, sizzling out it’s spark. "Keep going the route you're going, and I'll steer this situation away from you, kid."

He began to walk off. "Maybe I'll see you in the military ranks soon."

As he walked away, I let out a sigh of relief. "What a decent guy," I thought. Thanks to him, I could continue my plan and soon be in New Arcadia.