Sorin immediately placed a bid for the Shadow Cage Steel and was unsurprised when price climbed up to 25 divine crystals. “How sure are you about this material, Lawrence?” asked Sorin as he placed a bid for 27 divine crystals.
“Very sure,” said Lawrence. “My blood bound weapon is practically screaming at me to buy this.”
Lawrence’s explanation made sense to Sorin. Once upon a time, his blood-bound armor had made similar requests. Unfortunately, it was now an extremely picky eater. Only with the guidance of a powerful leatherworker like old man Sanderson and the best materials at the three-star level would it be able to evolve further.
Sorin also briefly wondered why Nemesis had never asked for materials. It had grown alongside him but had never required anything for its continued growth. Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth, Sorin, he told himself. At the same time, he made a note to watch out for potential ramifications. Few things were ever truly free.
In the end, Sorin obtained the Shadow Cage Steel for 29 divine crystals. A small formation appeared in the room once the bid was finalized along with instructions for payment.
Sorin placed one divine crystal after another onto the platform until the requisite number was reached, at which point the formation automatically activated. The crystals vanished, and the purchased Shadow Cage Stell appeared.
Lawrence immediately helped himself to the material and began incorporating it into his thread. The thin, silver material took on a natural black sheen that absorbed light. At the same time, it gained a huge amount of strength. Even Sorin wasn’t able to tear the strings apart once three or four lengths were used to tie his hands together.
The auction continued. Many rare materials appeared, as did weapons forged with similarly rare items. Many of these things were corrupted, but for the most part, these items were only restricted for sale by the clans that produced them.
Eventually, a bow came up. Sorin spent 37 divine crystals to secure Nature’s Wrath, a specialty product of the Atlan Clan. Only three such bows were made each year, and only one was given out to outside forces every decade or so.
Sorin grew bored as item after item passed them by, only placing the occasional bid when live merchandise came up. His web of Strife grew increasingly detailed, and before long, he had a pretty good idea about where the organization was located in both Olympia and the Inner City.
A surprising item eventually popped up to break the monotony.
“Next up, we have a prototype Expanse Tincture from the Kepler Clan,” said the auctioneer with a bright smile. “Our auction house received ten such tinctures. Five were utilized by our staff to astounding effect. We estimate that its potency is 50% greater than the Kepler Clan’s tinctures currently available on the market. What’s more, the tincture substantially increases the odds in successfully opening a gate in the first place.”
Sorin cursed Chief Elder Adrian when he saw the vial sell for 12 divine crystals. That was an order of magnitude higher than the paltry commission he’d been given! Though the ethics of pushing out a largely untested product through the black market were dubious at best, Sorin was less concerned about this fact. After all, he had confidence in his product and wouldn’t have put it forward otherwise. Why else would he test it on himself and his friends.
“Reee!” Lorimer demanded Sorin’s attention a few minutes later when an ornate gold box was taken out. “Ree ree ree!” He absolutely had to have it.
“This interesting item was found in a dungeon a few months back,” said the auctioneer as she opened the box to reveal a necklace of stringed teeth. “Don’t be deceived by its primitive appearance. It was discovered in a ruined temple to Arimanius and grants the user the ability to control rodents.
“Such an item is indispensable if your goal is to spy on your neighbor’s day to day habits. It’s doubly useful when it comes to devouring their grain stores and devastating permanent structures.”
The reserve price was set for 15 divine crystals, a bargain compared to many of the items in this auction. Fortunately, most bidders in attendance weren’t too keen on such an item, and Sorin was able to obtain it for the low price of 17 divine crystals. Lorimer devoured the item as soon as they obtained it.
A few more hours passed by uneventfully. The appeal of the auction wore off, and Lawrence decided to focus wholly on his string. It was the same for Gareth and his bow.
Sorin wondered if they should just leave early since they’d accomplished their goals, but he froze when a familiar figure appeared on stage.
“What in Hope’s name—is that Fenrig?!” exclaimed Lawrence.
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Indeed, the powerful barbarian was pushed onto the stage by strange prodding devices. He was bare-chested and bleeding but had yet to be broken by his captors.
“You know what? Forget hiding,” said Gareth, plucking his bow string and taking out an arrow from his quiver. “How about we torch this place down?”
Sorin was tempted to agree. Instead, he waited for the auctioneer make vague mentions about a royal-blooded barbarian and immediately placed a bid of 100 divine crystals once the bidding opened. This was fully double the opening price.
For a few seconds, no further bids were made. The impasse ended when another bid was placed for 150 divine crystals.
Something inside Sorin snapped. He sent a fist flying out from his booth and unleashed a torrent of rage-infused spirit.
The attack slammed against the bidder’s shield, causing a chain reaction as runes lit up across the entire auction house.
“Since this is the first offense of the evening, I would like to remind the bidders present that violence in all forms are strictly forbidden,” warned the auctioneer. “Please pull back your spiritual sense, sir. Or else.”
Sorin scowled as he pulled back his spirit but was unresigned by the outcome. He increased his bid to 200 divine crystals.
“Relax,” said Gareth. “You can always track them down.”
“Unfortunately, not,” said Sorin. “The bidder is slippery. I can’t lock onto him.”
What was worse, the bidder was undeterred by Sorin’s aggressive bidding and upped the bid to 250 divine crystals. Sorin placed one final bid of 257 divine crystals but was quickly outbid by 258.
Why in Hope’s name do they want Fenrig so much? Sorin wanted to continue bidding, but he no longer had enough divine crystals. He suddenly regretted bidding on the items, but there was no taking back a bid from the Styx auction house.
The timer ran out, and the gavel fell. Fenrig was whisked away, and no matter how hard he tried, Sorin was unable to establish a fresh karmic connection with him.
A few more royal slaves were auctioned off before the reserve price of goods shot up drastically. Items that could greatly increase one’s sanctification and fearsome treasures from the age of the gods were introduced to the auction.
Many of the items in question were introduced for absurdly high reserve prices but were not bid upon. The Styx Auction house did not insist on their sale, however, and affirmed that they would be present at an auction at least one year in the future.
It made sense, in a way. What use was as demigod tier bow when it cost 300 divine crystals to purchase and additional divine crystals to activate.
The only ones who could truly use such equipment were demigods, or perhaps specific God Seeds. Such cultivators were few and far between
Eventually, the auction reached its final items. “Our second last item for the evening is this ancient tablet. This complete item was found inside a dungeon roughly a century ago. It was kept by the original owner due to the dense divinity it possessed and then offered to the Temple of Hope
“The divinity inside the tablet has been extracted, but the tablet remains. No one has been able to decipher its writings, but not for lack of trying.
“The Temple of Hope has put this item for auction in the hopes that a fated individual will purchase it.
“The reserve price… is 257 divine crystals.”
Sorin felt hundreds of pairs of eyes look in his direction despite the tinted glass covering the booths. What fated individual. This is clearly meant for me. Still, he gnashed his teeth as he placed a bid for 257 divine crystals, every last crystal that remained of the fortune he’d brought with him.
It was clear to Sorin why no one had been able to translate the tablet. A thick aura of Hope infected the item with potent Historical Amnesia. Sorin might not be able to read it, but he was confident that Astley could do so with his assistance.
Sorin observed the tablet as the seconds counted down. It held five images. Three he recognized. Four he didn’t.
The story started with an unfamiliar scene where a man clothed in lightning spoke to a chained fox. Sorin couldn’t read the words on the tablet, but the aura of Hope was thick on the fox. What’s more, the lightning-clothed man’s aura matched that of Aaron Zeis.
The next tablet depicted a strange serpent. Strange in that it reeked of corruption, but not any corruption Sorin recognized. It coiled around the lightning clothed man’s eyes, blinding him to the horrors that surrounded him.
The third tablet displayed a growing darkness and a broken sky. Not much information could be gleaned without reading the accompanying text, but from it, Sorin sensed the familiar alien energy present in all corrupted divine crystals.
The next three tablets were familiar to Sorin. They told the story of two kings that lead the gods in a war against mysterious invaders. They were gradually overwhelmed, and in the end, the God of Lightning convinced the God of Death to perform a summoning ritual. Unsurprisingly, the God of Death, whose name still obscured, showed similarity to Ratten Hyde.
It was the last picture, however, that drew his attention. The two deities were standing before an ornate box covered in black chains.
Sorin instinctively knew its name: Pandora’s Box.
It was a box of calamity.
It was a box of pain.
The God of Death on the tablet was trying to pull away the God of Lightning. But the God of Lightning could not be convinced. The serpent coiled around his eyes blinded him to reason.
“Sold to the destined man for 257 divine crystals!” announced the auctioneer. “Which brings us to our last item: A working Death Tincture, not yet release on the market but guaranteed to be effective as advertised.
“As many of you know, one must sanctify 90% of their flesh and successfully open the Gate of Death prior to becoming a demigod. Only 5% of those who attempt the process survive.
“With this tincture, however, the odds are drastically enhanced to 25%! It’s a miracle in a bottle, and you could be one of the first to purchase it!”
“Impossible!” said Sorin, slamming his hand down on the table in their booth. The reserve price was announced as 1000 divine crystals, but it seemed that even this sky-high price was far from high enough.
“This tincture concerns you,” Gareth said to Sorin. “Is it your clan that produced it?”
“Undoubtedly,” said Sorin through gritted teeth. “But it shouldn’t have been possible.”
“Why not?” asked Lawrence. “Isn’t there one right there?”
“I’m not blind Lawrence,” snapped Sorin. “It’s just that I happen to have three generations worth of experimental data saying it shouldn’t be possible. Data on very lethal experiments on over a thousand individuals.”
Yet here it was, over eight years after the death of his parents.
The legendary Death Tincture that would birth a new era of mankind, the Era of Demigods.