Chapter 106 - A Blade in the Bidding Hall
Date: January X788
Location: Gultari Reaches — Border Ruins Auction Ring (Former Lamia Scale Outpost)
The Gultari Reaches were nothing but scorched earth and broken sky. Lightning sometimes crawled sideways for no reason, crackling across dry stone as if trying to remember how to fall. There were no guild halls here. No cities. Just wind that knew too many secrets.
But tonight, the ruins pulsed with hidden life.
The auction hall had no banners, no shouted invitations—only a single floating glyph that flickered between languages, each translation more ominous than the last. Mages, mercenaries, black market tacticians, and quiet warlords shuffled through the torch-lit corridors, each wearing borrowed faces and unmarked cloaks. No one dared reveal a crest. No one whispered real names.
Tonight, they were all here for one thing:
Artifacts that should never have existed.
Vault-forged blades. Mimic-threaded armor. Echo keys.
And one final lot: Lot Thirty-Two.
That lot had drawn high whispers from all across Fiore—and one ghost.
She stood at the far end of the hall, hood low, cloak trailing like a drifting shadow. Her blade was wrapped in plain linen, not even glinting in the firelight.
Teresa.
Location: Auction Ring Perimeter — Vault Relic Screening Zone
A guard shuffled past her, holding a scanning glyph stone. The spell flicked over her body once—hesitated, twitched—and moved on.
No magic signature.
No battle aura.
Just stillness that felt colder than any weapon.
The guard didn't even realize the glyph had distorted slightly as it passed her.
The relic recognized her.
Not as a guest.
As a warning.
Location: Above Auction — Broken Balcony Overhang
Romeo knelt beside a splintered beam, peering through a cracked pillar. Kinana crouched next to him, cloak pulled tight against the wind that hissed through the ruined stone.
"Six seconds," Romeo muttered under his breath.
Kinana didn't blink. "She's never needed more."
Romeo flexed his fingers around his gloves. "They won't recognize her until—"
"They never do," Kinana finished. "Not until it's far too late."
Location: Auction Floor — Middle Tier
Bidders argued over Lot Twenty-Seven, a massive axe laced with mimic energy, said to "cut soul threads through solid matter."
Teresa didn't even glance at it.
Her eyes stayed locked on a pedestal further down the row.
Lot Thirty-Two.
Not a vault weapon. Something worse.
She recognized the curve of that blade instantly. The runic core wasn't Ky'run, it wasn't Earthland at all.
Claymore-forged.
A ghost from a world she once called home.
Location: Lower Hall — Guard Pathway
Three mercenaries slid through the corridor, steps practiced and quiet. Their glyph passes were forgeries. Their aim: retrieval, not purchase.
She moved before they touched the pedestal.
No sword drawn. No sound.
She slipped between two guards like a passing breeze. One of them flinched—too late. His alert rune sparked but died before lighting.
A single tap of Silken Nerve Control. He dropped, limbs numb but unharmed.
By the time the team's lead reached the pedestal—
She was already there.
Combat Initiates — Close-Quarter Duel
The first lunged forward, speed glyphs sparking at his boots.
He never reached the ground.
Phantom Step.
She was already behind him, blade still sheathed.
A single swing with the sheath's edge. Not fatal. Just enough to overload his magic circuit. He crumpled, consciousness intact, magic gone.
The second drew twin daggers, wind-etched. He flung them with precision.
She stepped forward, Yoki flaring in a slow, invisible pulse.
The daggers hung in the air like suspended thoughts.
She passed between them, unwrapping her blade at the last second.
Rippling Sword activated.
One arc. The blades shattered mid-flight.
A thin line of blood traced across the man's arm, just deep enough to disarm him.
The last man cast Flame Bind—a ring of twisting fire meant to constrict and crush.
He never saw it split.
Void Sever whispered through the air, clean and absolute.
His flame died mid-form. Ash drifted.
He turned to run.
She didn't follow.
The mimic beacon flickered once, catching her presence.
It showed her face, unwavering.
The man looked back. Saw her.
And surrendered to terror before vanishing into the shadows.
Location: Auction Core — Lot Thirty-Two Pedestal
Teresa stepped up to the blade.
Too light.
Off-balance.
All wrong.
A mockery of what her world once was, forged with dignity and grief.
The edge quivered in her hand, vibrating with stolen memories, echoing a life it didn't earn.
She turned to the auctioneer.
No words. No threat.
Just presence.
He stepped back, lips parted, unable to even announce a bid.
Lot Thirty-Two vanished from the roster.
Just like that.
And so did she.