Auction II

We made our way to a modest hotel, chosen specifically for its reputation—a place where discreet dealings and subtle exchanges were as common as the worn carpets and flickering chandeliers. Its lack of opulence suggested we'd already spent more coin than we had on the Mind's Aegis, making us appear vulnerable and ripe for plucking. Perfect for what we intended.

The leader of the Myrkwrought guild was a man known as Veyron Redwood. Ascendant-ranked and fearsomely confident, his legend included nearly single-handedly taking down an 8-star beast—a feat few could claim. He was known for calculating odds with ruthless efficiency, his reputation built on exploiting weakness wherever he sniffed it out.

And tonight, he thought he had found weakness here.

A booming crash shattered the tense silence of the lobby. Dust and splinters rained down as the entrance doors were flung wide, an echoing command of raw mana sweeping through the space like a sudden, biting wind. I felt the prickle of energy against my skin, my senses sharpened by the Mind's Aegis. Each pulse and ripple of power told a story: Veyron himself, flanked by three Integration-rankers, with the scurrying shadow of a White-ranker hovering like an afterthought at the rear.

Jin's eyes met mine for the briefest of moments, a flicker of amusement tempered with readiness. His two disguised guards, their power cloaked, stood like unmoving sentinels at our flanks. The mercenaries, now caught between curiosity and a palpable sense of impending danger, shifted nervously, the reality of what they'd signed on for sinking in.

Veyron stepped forward, his presence commanding and unmistakable. The air thrummed with the dark resonance of his aura. "Hand over the artifact, and perhaps I'll let you crawl out of here," he drawled, eyes glinting with the promise of violence.

I allowed a smile to play at the edges of my lips, the consciousness streams from the Mind's Aegis processing each detail, every exit, and the strengths and weaknesses of the attackers. They thought they had us cornered, but they had only walked into the jaws of their own trap.

"It's funny," I said, taking a step forward, the smile now sharp as a blade. "You're about to learn the value of underestimating a prize too dearly bought."

Veyron's eyes narrowed, and the game was set.

Veyron stepped forward, and the air around him rippled as astral energy spilled out in a pulse that made my senses scream with warning. His power was tangible, the kind that lived in the stories of warriors who had conquered the Wall and emerged on the other side wielding a might few could fathom. I couldn't touch it—not yet. 

A sword shimmered into existence in his hand, pulled from his spatial ring. It hummed with the resonance of an astral blade, and I could feel the steady thrum of *Sword Heart* emanating from it. This was a weapon that beat with purpose, alive with the force of a swordsman's spirit made manifest.

"No need for more words," he said, his tone final as he launched forward, an arc of blinding light tracing the deadly path of his swing. If I attempted to meet it head-on, no technique I possessed would hold against that strike. It would carve through me as surely as dawn breaks the night.

But I wasn't the one set to face him.

Jin's two guards stepped out from the shadows, their movements fluid and unhurried. The clash came in a rush of brilliance as they intercepted Veyron's blade with their own, two astral weapons shimmering with power that made the room seem bathed in starlight. The sheer force of their combined resonance sent a shockwave across the hall, rattling the wooden beams and scattering the wide-eyed mercenaries.

Veyron's eyes widened, disbelief stark on his face as he was driven back, the weight of his own momentum turned against him. He staggered, his stance breaking under the relentless force of two foes who clearly surpassed him.

"Subjugate them, but don't kill," Jin ordered, crossing his arms as though he were commanding a mundane sparring match.

The guards, silent as wraiths, obeyed without pause. They advanced, their blades weaving a deadly dance as they took on the Myrkwrought guild. The three Integration-rankers moved in, their combined power forming a bulwark of mana and steel, but they were outmatched. The guards wielded their astral blades like conductors directing a symphony of battle, each strike precise, each parry elegant and unyielding.

The mercenaries that had stood with us shrank back, the fire of greed in their eyes now dimmed by the spectacle of power. They realized too late that they had signed on for something far beyond their comprehension. 

Veyron, grit and defiance in his stare, struggled against the relentless onslaught, but the truth was clear. This was no battle; it was a reckoning.

The remaining four members of Myrkwrought stood no chance, reduced to mere spectators in their own defeat as one of Jin's guards dispatched them with ruthless efficiency. But my eyes were drawn to Veyron's duel with the second guard—a clash between two Ascendant-rankers. This was the kind of battle I had read about, the kind that legends were born from, but never before had I seen it with my own eyes.

This was the level I had to reach, the summit that awaited me after two years of ceaseless effort. I had glimpsed the peak of Integration-rank during Valen Ashbluff's test; now, I would witness the true power of the Ascendant-rank, the realm beyond the Wall.

The arena crackled with energy as the two warriors faced each other. Jin's guard wielded dark astral energy, his movements fluid and calculated, the resonance of his Sword Heart evident in each step. Veyron, on the other hand, burned with the raw ferocity of fire and lightning astral energy, a tempest contained within the frame of a man. Sparks leapt from his blade, and the air hummed with the scent of ozone and heat.

Both combatants possessed Sword Heart, that rare and coveted mastery that infused their weapons with the very essence of their will. The difference lay in how close they stood to the next pinnacle: Immortal-rank and the elusive Sword Domain.

And the answer was clear—Jin's guard was the one who had touched that threshold. His strikes were deliberate, every motion refined to perfection. The dark astral energy enveloped his blade, turning each swing into an extension of his being, a seamless flow that seemed to manipulate the very shadows around him.

Veyron's attacks were wild and fierce, filled with the passion of a man who refused to back down. His astral energy roared as he surged forward, lightning crackling along his blade and fire trailing like a comet's tail. Yet, despite his power, there was an edge of desperation—a knowledge that he was facing a foe who outstripped him in both experience and finesse.

Their blades met in an explosion of light and shadow, illuminating the room in bursts that turned the scene into a strobe of frozen moments. Each clash sent shockwaves that shuddered through the floor, causing the walls to groan as if under the weight of the power they contained. The dark astral energy of Jin's guard flowed around Veyron's fiery strikes like an ink-black river, deflecting, absorbing, redirecting. It was more than skill—it was dominance.

I watched, mesmerized, as Veyron's initial confidence wavered, his attacks slowing, each one taking just a fraction longer to recover from than the last. The difference was subtle but devastating. It wasn't just a battle; it was an art form, a demonstration of what it meant to be at the peak of Ascendant-rank, where the line between man and weapon blurred until they were one.

Jin's guard pressed forward, his sword vibrating with dark energy as he moved with a predator's patience, each strike aimed to break Veyron's defense, not with brute force but with inevitability. Veyron's breath grew ragged, his fire dimming, the lightning flickering as if uncertain.

Then, with a final, decisive swing, Jin's guard sent Veyron's blade spinning from his grasp, the force of the blow reverberating through the hall like the toll of a great bell. The Guild Master staggered back, eyes wide with disbelief, his aura sputtering as he fell to one knee. 

In that moment, silence fell, broken only by the sound of my own breath catching in my chest. The duel was over, and the difference between their power etched into the very air. I now knew exactly what I was up against, the magnitude of the Wall I would have to conquer.

And for the first time in a long while, the challenge ahead felt both daunting and exhilarating.