Auction !! (Filler Story)

The platform slowed as the lights dimmed to an amber twilight hue, the room hushed as if holding its breath.

The auctioneer smiled—graceful, electric with anticipation—and lifted her hand toward the centre of the room.

"And now… the item we've all been waiting for."

A cylindrical vault, laced with sun steel runes and sealed under layers of glowing sigils, rose from below the stage. Mist curled around its base. A hum vibrated through the air—not mechanical, not magical, but something... older.

As the container unlocked, its sides peeled open like petals, revealing a single, jagged black- red stone nestled atop velvet red silk.

The crowd leaned forward, enchanted.

"This is no artifact," the auctioneer said solemnly. "It is the final known remnant of the mythical beast Pheaneron— which is fade from 1000 years ago, after the last alignment. What remains… is this and it's found in 1 month ago in our region Pheron Volcano mountain last eruption."

A golden shimmer stirred briefly from within the rock. A pulse. Faint. Warm. Like breath remembered.

People around Jimmy gasped. Some clutched their data spheres. Others murmured about legends, destinies, reawakening.

But Jimmy…

Jimmy felt nothing.

No call.

No whisper from time.

Just a silence where wonder once was.

He watched the shimmering light… and wondered quietly:

Was that connection ever real?

.....................

As Jimmy stepped out of the golden auction chamber, the hush of luxury gave way to a quieter corridor lined with soft carpet and dim wall lamps. He saw many people here and there buying souvenirs, many different objects and many more

Just as the door closed behind him, a well-dressed man in a navy vest and gold-trimmed gloves stepped forward from a corner alcove. He bowed slightly, his voice respectful yet rehearsed.

"Sir," he said smoothly, "do you wish to make your payment now, or are you considering a few more purchases?"

Jimmy paused, the weight of the bronze watch in his pocket suddenly heavier.

He tilted his head slightly and typed a short message onto his device. The voice output spoke gently:

"Let me see first… and then I'll think about it."

The man smiled with practiced charm and bowed again. "Of course, sir. Take your time. If anything catches your eye, simply raise the green sigil near the room's entrance."

Jimmy nodded once and continued down the corridor, his footsteps soft, senses stretching outward.

That strange pull still lingered—faint, but growing stronger.

...........................

Room 13-B – Rock Cutting Competition Room

The air inside was cooler, quieter. The chatter and gold-drenched noise of the auction felt like another world. Here, only a few individuals lingered—some seated with their chins in thought, others pacing with hands tucked behind their backs. A long stone table dominated the centre, its surface lined with raw ores, shimmering fragments, and sealed rocks waiting to be cut open.

Each one could contain anything—trash, treasure, or forgotten time.

Jimmy stepped in, his cane tapping softly on the polished floor.

Before he could take another step, a sharply dressed man in a deep charcoal coat approached. His polished shoes stopped just short of the cane, eyes scanning the blindfold, then the calm, silent boy beneath it.

With a courteous bow, he asked, "Sir… may I assist you? Are you here to observe—or participate?" There was a moment's hesitation in his tone, as if unsure whether someone blind and alone belonged here at all.

Jimmy didn't answer immediately. He simply turned his head slightly, toward the line of unopened rocks.

Something was calling from behind them.

............................

The dim lights flickered slightly as Jimmy's cane tapped softly along the stone-tiled floor. He walked with quiet certainty, weaving between onlookers and tables like a shadow drawn by instinct. Then he stopped.

At the very bottom of a display stack—beneath discarded shards and dusty wrappers—lay a peculiar rock, no bigger than 8 inch. Dull, unassuming, matte grey. Forgotten.

But it pulsed.

Not with light, but with presence.

Jimmy reached toward it.

"Ah—sir," the same sharply dressed manager approached in haste, adjusting his gloves. "That one's a waste. We scanned it three times. Nothing inside. Just dense rock."

Jimmy typed and showed his reply calmly:

"Then it's free?"

The man chuckled awkwardly. "Technically no. But... if you've purchased or cut any other rocks, yes—for you? Consider it a bonus."

Jimmy simply nodded and, with gentle reverence, wrapped his hand around the rock.

Then he turned toward the main table, eyes unseen, but senses drawn sharply to four more stones. His fingers brushed the edges of the display cases, stopping over one massive rock—nearly 1.5 meters tall, over half a meter wide. Three more, medium-sized, lined up like forgotten puzzle pieces waiting to be unlocked.

Each was priced at 100 million T-Coins.

He picked all four without hesitation.

Whispers sparked like firecrackers behind him.

"Is that blind kid serious?"

"He's gambling like he's born lucky."

"Pfft, what's he gonna do—see with his dreams?"

"Hey, watch him! Maybe he's got x-ray vision under that bandage!"

Even the manager couldn't hide a small snicker as he crossed his arms. "Young man, this isn't a street lottery. Maybe you should triple-check before you burn your bank."

Jimmy ignored them all.

With a gesture, manager summoned a tall, four-armed humanoid Whisp with iron-grey skin and glowing veins, accompanied by a monkey-like companion perched on its shoulder. The two quickly began organizing the selected rocks.

"Place them," Jimmy typed.

The manager's tone shifted. "Ah—sir. Protocol says you must first pay... and sign the agreement for cutting."

Jimmy raised the green sigil he'd been given earlier.

A nearby staff member in a waiter's uniform rushed over. Jimmy typed again:

"What are the full procedures for private cutting?"

The waiter, caught off guard, nervously listed from memory:

"No use of external force. Full rights to cut contents belong to buyer. Any discovery belongs solely to the buyer. All costs beyond base price—if not listed—must be pre-approved."

Jimmy nodded. "Then I'll buy them all. 400 million. No extra charge." He handed over the sum via the encrypted panel.

The old manager, smiling smugly, folded his arms. "Well then, sir... would you like help opening these, or shall I call someone to do it? For a modest service fee, of course."

Jimmy calmly flicked on his recording device and played the manager's earlier words:

"Yes of course, everything is yours if you got it first."

Then he typed aloud on his phone speaker, just loud enough for others to hear:

"Should I upload this to the buyer-protection forum?"

A pause.

A twitch in the manager's smile.

Then—"No need, no need, sir," he said quickly. "Yes, yes—they can help you to open them yourself. No one will stop you." 

Jimmy turned back and requested calmly, " don't need. Just give me a small hammer. A chisel. A cloth."

They brought it.

As he sat cross-legged before the largest boulder, preparing to strike, the murmurs intensified.

"He's really gonna do it."

"What's next, divining the future with chicken bones?"

"Blind boy's about to learn rocks don't care for pity."

Laughter erupted. Some full of mockery, some fake-sympathy, most entertained.

Even the manager whispered to a nearby guest, "He'll hit rock and cry stone."

Jimmy didn't flinch.

His fingers traced the cool surface.

And then...

He struck.

Hard.

Crack.

The mocking fell into an uneasy silence as the sound echoed through the hall.

He struck again.

And again.

The stone began to split.