Dawn Walker

Chapter 210: 210: The auction III

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Minor lots reset the room. They made small buyers feel included. They also made big buyers impatient, and impatience created mistakes.

The first minor lot was a bundle of high-grade chaos stones and two lesser artifacts: a “Heatless Lantern Rune” that lit without flame, and a “Dust-Filter Mask Charm” useful for lower domain ruins. The crowd chuckled at the mask charm because someone shouted that it was perfect for ugly husbands. A few wives laughed too loudly.

The bundle sold for a respectable amount, but not legendary numbers.

The second minor lot was a “Beast Repel Powder Set,” mostly useful for travel. A beastkin bidder bought it and joked loudly that it was for keeping cousins away at family gatherings. The hall laughed, tension loosening.

Sekhmet allowed himself a small internal exhale. Good. The room is warm and cooperative, he thought. Now the next strike will land harder.

Mira’s posture straightened again. The fourth legendary case rolled out.

The spear inside looked military in the most honest way. Long, balanced, reinforced. The shaft had runes that glowed faintly along the grip points, designed to stabilize movement and penetration. This was not a noble showpiece. This was a weapon meant to kill.

Mira’s voice sharpened slightly. “Legendary Grade Three. Steelheart Spear.”

Military buyers leaned in immediately.

Mira continued. “Balance enchantment and reinforced penetration runes. Designed to maintain trajectory stability under chaos reinforcement. The point is hardened under multiple layers. This spear is intended for high-intensity combat. It is a serious weapon.”

The crowd reacted with respect rather than excitement. Weapons like this made soldiers quiet. Soldiers understood what it meant to hold something that could decide whether you lived or died.

Mira rang the bell. “Opening bid, five hundred thousand.”

Bidding started slower than the bracers but climbed steadily.

“Six hundred.”

“One million.”

“One point five.”

“Two million.”

A military representative raised. “Three.”

A noble house attempted to bid. “Three point two.”

The military rep immediately countered. “Four.”

The noble house hesitated. Military buyers did not play. They did not bid for ego. They bid like they were buying a future battle.

Iron House entered. “Five million,” Dickoff’s scribe said calmly.

The military rep’s eyes narrowed. He raised the bid. “Five point two.”

Iron House answered. “Six.”

The military rep hesitated, then raised again. “Six point three.”

For the first time, Dickoff Iron moved his gaze slightly toward the military rep. Not anger. Not contempt. Assessment.

Then Dickoff’s scribe raised. “Seven.”

The military rep’s jaw tightened. He stared at the spear like it was already in his hand. Then he exhaled and lowered his marker.

The room murmured. Some people muttered about Iron House being greedy. Others muttered that refusing Iron House meant future trouble.

Mira rang the bell. “Seven million. Any higher bids.”

No one moved. She declared, “Sold. Seven million chaos stones. To Iron House.”

Lily’s eyes narrowed. “They bought two now.”

Sekhmet nodded slightly. That is enough trophies, he thought. They will hesitate soon or they will burn themselves.

Mira did not slow down. The fifth item would be next, but she paused long enough to let the contract clerks catch up, because chaos stones moving at this scale required paperwork, seals, and legal confirmation.

As staff moved, an argument broke out quietly in the side rows, not loud enough to disrupt the hall but loud enough to draw attention. A beastkin buyer was accusing a human buyer of “cheating” because he suspected the human was bidding with borrowed stones. The human buyer snapped back that the borrowed stones were still stones. The beastkin buyer replied that borrowed pride was still shameful.

Someone behind them muttered, “Pride is always borrowed.”

The beastkin buyer turned and asked who said it. Nobody answered.

The crowd chuckled, tension easing again.

Mira’s bell rang. “The next legendary item will now be presented,” she said.

Sekhmet watched the crowd and then, briefly, his eyes flicked to the three calm figures again.

Alex, Sofia, Natasha remained in their seats, still not bidding, still watching. They looked like they had come for something else, not for items. That made Sekhmet’s blood feel slightly colder.

They are waiting for the moment when the room becomes chaos, he thought. Predators always like chaos.

He forced his focus back to the stage. The auction had only just begun. Iron House had taken two trophies. The crowd was fully engaged.

The remaining items would sell for even more now, because confidence was contagious. And tomorrow’s real danger was not just bidding. It was who was watching, and why they were smiling without buying anything at all.

The hall did not calm after the spear sale.

It grew sharper.

When Iron House bought the Steelheart Spear for seven million, the room didn’t see “a transaction.” The room saw a message. It told every smaller house and every independent buyer the same truth: Iron House was here, Iron House had stones, and Iron House intended to leave with trophies in their hands even if it had to crush pride to get them.

That kind of presence made auctions unstable. Unstable auctions made people reckless. Reckless people overbid. Overbids made Dawn House rich.

Mira understood the rhythm now. She did not smile, but her posture carried quiet confidence. Her voice stayed level, neither excited nor intimidated, which was exactly what a good host did when powerful buyers tried to bend the air.

She rang the bell, and the sound cut cleanly through the murmurs.

“Next item,” she announced, “Legendary Grade Two. Three-Linked Chain Whip.”

The staff rolled the case out, and this one drew a different kind of attention. Not noble attention. Not military attention. The kind of attention that came from people who had lived in alleys, from guards who had fought bandits, from mercenaries who liked weapons that could kill without asking permission.

Inside the glass lay a chain whip coiled neatly, three linked segments braided together. It looked like a single weapon until you noticed the joints were segmented with independent rune beads. Each bead carried a small activation rune. The handle was reinforced with a grip band that looked plain, but the plainness felt intentional. This weapon wasn’t made for show. It was made for control.

Mira’s voice remained precise. “Legendary Grade Two. Flexible weapon with independent segmented movement under chaos input. The three-linked structure allows a skilled user to alter trajectory in mid-swing. It can wrap, disarm, bind, and strike. It is rare enough to create bidding competition. It has been tested for stability.”

A low, appreciative sound moved through the back rows. Several underground-looking buyers leaned forward. A mercenary representative whispered, “That’s a limb-breaker.” A beastkin guard captain in the crowd muttered, “That’s a throat collector.”

Lily leaned slightly toward Sekhmet, eyes bright. “This one will bring out the dirty bidders.”

Sekhmet’s gaze stayed calm as he watched the back row. “Good,” he murmured. “Let them burn stones.”

Mira rang the bell. “Opening bid, as always, five hundred thousand chaos stones.”

The bidding began immediately.

“Six hundred!”

“Seven!”

“Nine!”

“One million!”