Dawn Walker

Chapter 212: 212: The auction V

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Mira did not let the hall see hesitation.

She had felt the ripple in the paperwork station. She had seen Auri’s eyes sharpen. She had heard the clerk’s whispered fear about a foreign seal, and she had understood immediately what it meant. Someone was probing. Someone wanted to learn how fragile Dawn House was under pressure, and the worst part was that they were doing it in front of Iron House, as if they wanted Iron House to enjoy watching.

Mira’s posture stayed perfectly straight. Her voice stayed crisp.

“Verification has been completed,” she said smoothly, letting the crowd assume it was just normal auction procedure. “We will proceed.”

Auri’s presence behind her did not move like panic. It moved like a knife being returned to its sheath. Whatever had been tested had been noticed, and whoever had done it would not receive the satisfaction of seeing the host stumble.

The staff rolled the next display case forward.

The hall’s attention snapped into focus again, because the next item was small enough to be worn in a pocket, yet powerful enough to shift a fight.

Mira lifted her hand toward the case. “Legendary Grade Three. Embercore Ring.”

The ring inside looked deceptively simple. A dark metal band with a single embedded emberstone that glowed faintly, as if a coal had been trapped in glass. The glow was not flashy. It was controlled. That control made it look expensive.

Mira spoke clearly. “This ring stores a moderate fire-charge burst for emergency combat. It is not a continuous flame generator. It is a compact burst storage tool. The stored charge can be released instantly through chaos input. It is ideal for wealthy buyers, personal guards, nobles who need emergency protection, and combat users who value a hidden trump card. The enchantment is stable. No active curse. No ownership tether.”

A nobleman in the front row whispered, “My wife will demand that.”

A woman beside him replied without looking at him, “Correct.”

A mercenary captain muttered, “That is a life saver in an ambush.”

A beastkin scout leaned forward, eyes narrow, clearly calculating how many times the ring could be used before needing recharge.

Iron House’s section grew still. Not frozen. Focused.

This item was prestige and survival both. It was also the kind of gift a powerful house could give to secure loyalty.

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

Bidding began fast.

“Eight hundred!”

“One million!”

“One point two!”

“One point five!”

“Two million!”

A noble box bidder raised lazily. “Three.”

A mercenary rep countered. “Three point five.”

A robed figure with witch markings raised. “Four.”

The crowd murmured. Witches did not waste stones unless the item mattered.

Iron House entered.

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

The hall reacted instantly. Some people scoffed. Some people went quiet. Some buyers lowered their markers immediately because they did not want to wrestle Iron House for a compact legendary ring.

But not everyone feared them.

A heavy-coin merchant house in an upper box raised. “Five point five.”

Iron House answered. “Six.”

The merchant box bidder countered. “Six point five.”

A second box bidder, smaller but aggressive, jumped in. “Seven.”

The hall warmed again. This was the kind of bidding fight spectators loved, because it was not just money, it was pride being burned publicly.

Iron House paused for half a breath, then raised. “Seven point five.”

The second box bidder hesitated. The first merchant box bidder hesitated. The witch-marked buyer looked irritated, then lowered her marker, muttering something about “overpriced fire toys.”

Mira’s bell rang once. “Seven point five million. Any higher bids.”

A silence stretched. People looked toward the box bidders.

No one moved.

Mira rang again. “Sold. Seven point five million chaos stones. To Iron House.”

A ripple ran through the hall. Iron House had now bought three major pieces, and some buyers began whispering that Iron House was burning too much money. Others whispered that Iron House always had enough stones, because Iron House didn’t survive by being poor.

Sekhmet watched Dickoff carefully. Dickoff still did not look pleased. He looked like a man checking off steps in a plan.

Mira let the clerks process the seal, then shifted immediately into the next legendary item.

The staff rolled a taller case forward.

The aura from it was different, not sharp, not hot, but heavy in a ceremonial way. It felt like old stone and dried bone, like ritual ink and forgotten vows.

Mira’s voice carried. “Legendary Grade Two. Beastbone Ritual Staff.”

Inside the glass stood a staff carved from pale beastbone, polished smooth and capped with a dark crystal bead. The staff looked ceremonial, but the runes etched along the bone were not just decorative. They were amplification lines.

Mira explained, “Decorative but functional caster’s staff with minor amplification properties. It assists in shaping and stabilizing chaos energy for ritual casting, ceremonial reinforcement, and focused spellwork. It is attractive to scholars, witches, and ceremonial buyers. It is stable. No active curse.”

The robed section of the crowd came alive.

A witch buyer raised immediately. “Eight hundred thousand.”

A scholar-looking man raised. “One million.”

A ceremonial priestess type raised. “One point two.”

A back-row collector raised. “One point five.”

This was not a trophy item. It was a niche item. But niche items created brutal fights among the people who actually needed them.

A witch in the upper row raised. “Two million.”

A second witch countered instantly. “Two point three.”

A scholar raised with surprising aggression. “Two point five.”

The room murmured. Scholars rarely fought like that unless the item had hidden value.

Iron House did not bid. Dickoff did not even glance at it longer than necessary. That told Sekhmet the staff was not part of their plan.

A cloaked buyer raised calmly. “Three million.”

The scholar hesitated. The witches exchanged looks. One witch muttered, “He is a collector, not a caster.”

The other witch replied, “Collectors are worse. They overpay for pride.”

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

A pause.

The scholar lowered his marker with visible frustration. The witches held their silence, calculating that they could find other staffs later, but not for that price.

Mira rang again. “Sold. Three million chaos stones.”

The staff was carried away under escort.

The hall’s attention shifted again because everyone knew what was next.

Mira did not need to tease it. The last primary item was the one that always made movement lovers and combat runners lean in.

The final case rolled out.

It was smaller than most, but the aura from it was energetic, like wind contained in metal.

Mira’s voice sharpened slightly, because closing items needed drama. “Legendary Grade Three. Stormcall Anklets.”

Inside the glass lay a pair of anklets made of dark metal bands with thin lightning-pattern runes etched along the edges. Small embedded stones shimmered faintly like storm clouds trapped in crystal.

Mira explained, “Pair of movement-enhancing anklets with short burst acceleration. This is not permanent speed increase. It is a burst function. It provides rapid acceleration for evasion, interception, and pursuit. It is an excellent finishing item for a high-level combatant, a scout leader, or any buyer who values survival through mobility. Stable. No active curse.”

The hall buzzed immediately.

Beastkin scouts leaned forward.

Mercenary captains looked hungry.

Nobles who had been acting bored suddenly cared, because speed meant escaping assassination.

Iron House’s scribes adjusted their papers, clearly preparing to bid again.

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

Bids exploded.

“One million!”

“One point five!”

“Two!”

“Three!”

“Four!”

The numbers rose too fast. The hall became a wave of raised markers and shouted counters.

Iron House entered, not even pretending to ease in.

“Six million,” their scribe said.

A beastkin scout house bidder snapped back. “Six point five!”

A mercenary captain raised. “Seven!”

A noble box bidder raised lazily. “Seven point two.”

Iron House answered immediately. “Eight.”

The room murmured. Eight million for anklets was high, but not insane for Grade Three speed gear, especially if it was clean and stable.

The mercenary captain hesitated. The beastkin scout bidder clenched his jaw. The box bidder paused as if calculating whether this was worth fighting Iron House for.

Then a voice from an upper box spoke, calm and rich.

“Nine million.”

The hall froze for a heartbeat.

Heads turned upward again.

The same mid-domain association mark.

The same kind of buyer who did not care about local politics.

Mira repeated smoothly, “Nine million.”

Iron House’s scribe raised instantly, ready to go higher.

Dickoff did not lift his hand. He paused.

That pause was small, but it mattered. It meant Dickoff was choosing not to fight the mid-domain buyer in front of the whole city. It meant he was avoiding exposing more of his wealth, or avoiding making a bigger enemy today.

Iron House did not bid.

The room reacted with shock and satisfaction. The crowd loved seeing Iron House forced to swallow something, even if only once.

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

No movement.

Mira rang again. “Sold. Nine million chaos stones.”

The anklets were removed, and the hall exhaled, like the last breath of a long fight.

Mira lifted her bell chain one final time.

“The primary auction sequence is concluded,” she announced. “Dawn House thanks all guests. Buyers will finalize transfers through the designated lanes. The hall will close after verification.”

People began leaving in real waves now.

Some looked triumphant. Some looked bitter. Some looked like they had aged ten years. Guards tightened around their masters. Contract clerks moved like machines.

Sekhmet remained seated for a moment, letting the flow settle.

Lily leaned close and whispered, “You just made enough stones to make Iron House choke.”

Sekhmet’s eyes stayed calm. “Not yet.”

Mira approached again, holding the ledger with final totals. “Young master, total gross from the ten primary items is fifty-six point five million chaos stones. After fees and deductions, the net will be confirmed within the hour by contract clerks.”

Sekhmet nodded once, then his gaze moved toward Iron House.

Dickoff was still seated. Not leaving. Waiting.

And Sekhmet already knew the auction’s real ending was not the bell. It was the question Dickoff was about to ask.

Mira gave Sekhmet a piece of paper. Which had written the numbers.

Legendary Grade 3 Flame-Etched Warblade — 7,000,000 — Mid-domain Trade Association buyer (upper box)

Legendary Grade 3 Moonglass Defensive Bracers — 6,000,000 — Iron House

Legendary Grade 2 Void-Touched Hunting Cloak — 3,500,000 — Cloaked back-row bidder (discreet buyer)

Legendary Grade 3 Steelheart Spear — 7,000,000 — Iron House

Legendary Grade 2 Three-Linked Chain Whip — 5,000,000 — Cloaked buyer (tool-focused bidder)

Legendary Grade 3 Twin Fang Daggers — 7,000,000 — Iron House

Legendary Grade 2 Ironhide Scale Vest — 3,800,000 — Mercenary guild (captain’s purchase)

Legendary Grade 3 Embercore Ring — 7,500,000 — Iron House

Legendary Grade 2 Beastbone Ritual Staff — 3,000,000 — Cloaked collector / ritual buyer

Legendary Grade 3 Stormcall Anklets — 9,000,000 — Mid-domain Trade Association buyer (upper box)

Total gross (all 10): 58,800,000 chaos stones.