Unexpected luck

The auction hall pulsed with activity as the event neared its conclusion. While the participants buzzed with anticipation, Ashan sat back in his chair, his expression unreadable. His patience had worn thin hours ago.

This is nothing but a gathering of fools throwing gold at shiny garbage. If they only knew how much of this is worthless…

His gaze wandered to his father, Leone, who seemed thoroughly engaged in the spectacle. The sparkle in his father's eyes only annoyed Ashan further.

Three items already—and while they're rare, they're hardly worth the gold he's spent. Even the best eyes have their limits.

The sharp rap of the auctioneer's hammer cut through the murmur of voices, commanding the room's attention. He gestured grandly to a hooded figure, who approached the stage carrying a small, carefully sealed glass bottle. Inside the bottle, a shimmering blue liquid danced in the light, mesmerizing everyone who saw it.

A wave of curious murmurs swept through the hall.

"What in the world is that?"

"Looks like an elixir… but it's not like anything I've ever seen."

Even seasoned mages exchanged puzzled glances. Their confusion was palpable.

Ashan, who had been lazily surveying the crowd, suddenly snapped his attention to the stage. His eyes widened as he leaned forward, squinting at the peculiar liquid.

No way… Could it really be?

The auctioneer cleared his throat, holding up a roll of parchment. 

"Ladies and gentlemen, I can see you're intrigued. Allow me to explain this remarkable item. This liquid was discovered in a gold mine to the west of Verdalis. It was encased within a massive rock and has since undergone extensive research."

He held up the parchment. "According to our findings, this liquid rejects all other objects in its vicinity. When exposed to mana, either naturally or forcibly, its repelling force grows stronger, using the mana as fuel. Researchers estimate it to be over a century old. This is a rare and extraordinary find, the likes of which you may never see again!"

Gasps filled the room, but the initial awe quickly gave way to skepticism.

"120 gold!" the auctioneer announced, setting the starting bid.

A tense silence followed as participants whispered among themselves.

"It's interesting, sure, but 120 gold? That's absurd."

"Maybe at 50 gold, I'd consider it. Maybe."

"Who knows if it even has a use?"

The auctioneer's confidence began to waver. "Very well… 115 gold! … 110 gold! … 100 gold…" He hesitated, then sighed. "98 gold."

Still, no one raised their number plates.

Leone leaned toward Ashan, shaking his head.

Leone leaned toward Ashan. "Doesn't seem like anyone's interested. Honestly, I don't see the value in it either. What about you, son?"

Leone turned to Ashan and froze. For the first time in his life, he saw his son utterly overcome with emotion. Ashan's usually calm, unreadable face was alight with excitement. His wide-open eyes sparkled, and his lips pressed tightly together as if to suppress a grin.

"S-Son, what's gotten into you?" Leone stammered.

Realizing his expression, Ashan quickly composed himself, his excitement melting into his usual serene smile. "Why, Father? Is something wrong?"

"N-No, nothing…" Leone replied, still rattled.

"Father," Ashan said, his voice steady but insistent. "May I ask for a favor?"

Leone blinked, regaining his composure. "Of course. What is it?"

"I want that item."

Leone raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Are you certain? You usually scoff at things like this."

Ashan nodded firmly. "I have my reasons."

Leone sighed but smiled faintly. "Alright. If it matters to you, I'll make it happen."

On stage, the auctioneer looked ready to concede defeat. 

"Final price: 70 gold. Does anyone wish to bid?"

Leone raised his plate. A murmur spread through the hall, and the auctioneer's face lit up. 

"The Third Lord has bid 70 gold! Any other takers?"

The room remained still—until a sharp voice called out.

"71 gold."

Heads turned toward the source: a middle-aged man with a long beard. The crowd erupted in hushed whispers.

"Damian? The blacksmith from North Verdalis? He's bidding against the Third Lord?"

Ashan observed the man closely, noting the excitement in his sharp eyes. 

"75 gold," Leone said, unperturbed.

"78 gold," Damian countered, his tone firm but strained.

"79 gold," Leone raised again.

Damian hesitated, glancing at Leone's corner before sighing. 

"81 gold and 50 silver. That's my limit."

"82 gold," Leone said without hesitation.

The auctioneer glanced around. "Any further bids? Going once… Going twice… Sold! The liquid goes to the Third Lord!"

Polite applause rippled through the room, but Ashan's gaze remained fixed on the bottle as it was carried off the stage. His lips curled into a subtle, satisfied smile.

They'll regret not fighting for it.

After a moment, the auctioneer stepped to the center of the stage, his expression solemn.

 "Ladies and gentlemen, we've reached the moment you've all been waiting for—the final and most extraordinary item of the auction."

A large, cloth-covered box was wheeled onto the stage. Whispers of excitement swept through the crowd.

"This is it," someone murmured. "This is what I came for."

The auctioneer approached the box, gripping the cloth. A faint, pitiful sound emerged from within.

"Kee-ow…"

The quiet, plaintive cry sent a shiver down Ashan's spine. His eyes darkened, his jaw tightening.

That sound…

He clenched his fists. 

These brutal people. Why is it here?

To be continued…