Chapter 598 - 518: The Grand Finale—The Shell Ship

Chapter 598: Chapter 518: The Grand Finale—The Shell Ship

Grom did not lead them to the secluded boxes high above. Instead, he took them along a sloping passageway at the edge, laid with a thicker carpet, to a spot toward the front of the amphitheater’s middle section.

The four seats here were noticeably more spacious and comfortable. The velvet cushions were a deeper shade, the armrests were carved with finer, dark patterns, and a small coffee table with an Obsidian inlay sat before them.

"Sir, please have a seat."

"The view from this position is quite good. It isn’t too conspicuous, but you can still see the display stage perfectly."

Grom gestured solicitously, the shrewd cunning in his yellow eyes masked by a perfect display of service.

"A waiter will be along shortly to serve you drinks and simple refreshments. Please help yourselves. There is usually some time to mingle before the gathering officially begins."

He paused, his pointed ears twitching slightly as if listening for some distant sound, then put on a smile again.

"Of course, with your discerning eye, the common wares outside would hardly be worth a look. But please believe me, what the Dark Moon Hall has to offer will not disappoint. Tonight... there might be one or two ’grand finale items’ that will surprise even me."

His tone held a perfect blend of mystery and flattery, yet he revealed no further substantive information. With that, he bowed slightly again.

"Well then, please allow me to take my leave. I hope you have a pleasant evening. If you need anything, simply signal the nearest waiter, and they will attend to you immediately."

After speaking, he gave a polite nod to Holland, Ogre, and Ellis before turning around and departing quickly along the path they came, his steps slightly rushed yet deliberately steady.

His short, dark purple velvet robe soon vanished around a corner of the passage, where light and Shadow intermingled.

After Grom left, the usual flippant smile on Holland’s face quickly vanished.

His brown eyes scanned their surroundings sharply.

He appeared to be casually leaning back in the comfortable chair, but in reality, his entire body was in a state of relaxed readiness, ready to erupt at any moment—an instinct honed by years as an adventurer.

A waiter holding a silver tray passed by silently.

Holland raised a hand, taking a crystal glass filled with an amber liquid from the tray.

But he didn’t drink it immediately. Instead, he brought it close to his nose to smell it, his fingertip faintly glowing with a nearly imperceptible, holy light.

After confirming there was nothing wrong, he drained the glass in one gulp.

As the liquid went down his throat, Holland’s eyes widened slightly. He smacked his lips, a complex expression of amazement and reminiscence on his face.

"...Golden Dawn Amber?"

The Priest muttered to himself, his voice laced with disbelief.

’I’ve only seen this stuff once... hmm, many years ago, at a private banquet after a Blessing ceremony hosted by a Cardinal from the Main Church District.’

’I heard this wine comes from a valley in the Southern Domain permanently favored by the Dawn Light. The annual production is no more than a hundred bottles, most of which go directly into the vaults of the major Divine Halls and the cellars of certain ancient families... And this place is serving it as a common drink for guests?’

He set down the glass, the playful look in his eyes completely replaced by solemnity.

This didn’t just signify luxury; it was a silent declaration of power and profound resources.

Then, as another waiter approached with a silver tray laden with exquisite pastries and fruit, Holland spoke softly and took the entire tray from him.

He quickly and carefully inspected each pastry. After confirming they were safe, he distributed the food and new drinks to Roland, Ogre, and even pushed a portion into the hands of the still-scowling Ellis.

Having done all this, he leaned forward slightly, his voice hushed to a volume only they could hear, every word heavy with gravity.

"Alright, guys, stay on your toes. This place... is no joke."

His gaze swept over the illusory Silver Moon on the hall’s dome and the figures that flickered in and out of sight amidst the shadows and brilliant lights.

"To be able to get their hands on something like Golden Dawn Amber to serve to unknown guests, the power behind this place must be terrifyingly vast. This isn’t the style of some black market running shady deals on the frontier... It’s more like..."

He paused, seemingly searching for the right words.

"...a hidden node in some vast network, or maybe a tentacle reaching down from a level we can’t even begin to touch."

Upon hearing this, Roland nodded slightly. Just as he was about to speak, the low hum of conversation in the circular hall rapidly faded like a receding tide, eventually settling into a near-solemn silence.

The illusory Silver Moon on the dome suddenly flared, its cold brilliance pouring down like mercury to precisely envelop the empty, circular display stage in the center.

No master of ceremonies appeared on stage, nor were there any announcements.

The air around the display stage distorted subtly, and a figure in a dark gray, form-fitting robe that nearly blended into the background appeared in the center of the stage without any warning, as if rising silently from beneath a tranquil water surface.

The figure was almost unnaturally slender, its face completely hidden in the deep shadow of its hood. Only a pair of hands in dark gloves were visible, their fingers slim and steady.

"He" made no extraneous gestures, simply raising his right hand and waving it casually.

In that instant, circles of complex and elegant silver Runes lit up on the smooth stone floor of the stage, flowing and intertwining like living things. Amidst the surging light, the first auction item rose from beneath the stage.

A strange Crystal, sealed within a transparent cubic Force Field and shimmering with a magnificent, ever-changing iridescence, hovered motionlessly in mid-air.

And so, the auction began, its curtain raised in a nearly ritualistic silence.

The gray figure did not speak, yet its clear, steady, and emotionless voice resonated directly in the depths of every attendee’s consciousness.

It was as cold as water from a deep spring dripping onto stone, concisely stating the item’s name, Traits, and origin.

Bidding was done via the inconspicuous silver rune plates on the armrests of the chairs. One only needed to infuse it with their Spiritual Power, and their bid would silently appear on a faintly glowing screen at the edge of the display stage.

The entire process was efficient and secretive, completely devoid of any clamor.

Roland sat quietly in his seat, his gaze calmly sweeping over the items presented one by one.

Indeed, the goods circulating here were worlds apart from the common wares of the outside market.

An Ancient Thunder Rhinoceros Horn that flickered with tiny sparks of lightning.

A vial of the "Spring of Youth," held in a Mithril thin-necked bottle and said to slow the aging process.

A Soul Crystal engraved with what was suspected to be the consciousness of a lost ancient Combat Skill.

There was even an ancient scroll marked as a map to a partial region of some lost Wood Elf City-State...

Every item caused the numbers on the light screen to jump rapidly; the bidding was silent yet fierce.

However, Roland never once touched the rune plate in front of him.

Those items were certainly rare and precious, but for him, at this moment, they were not urgently needed.

With the [Plundering] Trait he possessed and his understanding of the nature of Power, external aids were no longer essential.

More importantly, the few items that actually made him take a second look...

...such as a broken Sun Dial Fragment that emitted faint temporal fluctuations, or a heavy Black Iron Warhammer inscribed with what appeared to be ancient Hill Giant Runes, its aura ancient and profound.

The final selling price for each was enough to make him, who had just come into a "windfall" of two hundred Golden Crowns, shrink back.

So, he simply remained a quiet observer, silently assessing the power levels, financial depths, and interests of this era’s hidden circles through the auction items and the silent, yet fierce, bidding.

The auction proceeded smoothly and efficiently. One treasure after another was presented, bid on, sold, and then silently teleported away.

Finally, after an ancient crown inlaid with a massive Flame Heart Gemstone sold for a high price, the display stage was briefly left empty.

The "starlight" on the dome seemed to dim in tacit understanding, while the glow of the "Silver Moon" grew more concentrated, almost solidifying into a pillar of light.

For the first time, the gray figure on the stage made a distinct movement.

He slowly raised his head.

The shadow of the hood seemed to recede slightly, revealing a pair of eyes beneath it that had no pupils, only an expanse of void-like, silvery white.

The cold voice that resonated directly in their minds took on a rare, exceptionally formal cadence.

"Esteemed guests, next is the final presentation of this Dark Moon Gathering."

There was no lengthy introduction, no exaggerated rhetoric.

The silent silver Runes around the display stage suddenly blazed with unprecedented light.

It was not a soft, silvery white, but a phantom-blue that seemed to warp space itself.

A deep, heavy hum vibrated through the floor of the entire hall, as if originating from the depths of the earth’s crust.

A powerful wave of Spatial Magic Power spread out like an invisible tide, causing many of the hidden presences in the hall to falter.

Even from the high boxes, the faint sounds of shifting chairs or changing auras could be heard.

The phantom-blue light gathered and spun wildly above the display stage, forming a rapidly expanding vortex.

At the center of the vortex, space itself seemed to buckle under the pressure, showing web-like black cracks before shattering completely in a silent rupture.

It was not an explosion, but a heart-stopping, silent tearing and opening.

A ship, from within that deep spatial rift, slowly "slid" into reality.

It was no water-faring vessel, but a strange ship, its entire body a deep, matte gray. Its lines were as fluid as a Deep Sea predator, yet it clearly bore the marks of artificial forging and Rune carvings.

It was about fifteen or sixteen feet long and hung silently in the air a few feet above the stage, without any support.

Its hull was covered in layers of heavy armor, like the shell of an ancient crustacean. Between the gaps in the Plate Armor, dark blue veins of Energy pulsed faintly, as if breathing.

The bow was not a sharp ram but curved upward in an elegant arc, resembling the tip of a giant, closed seashell. Its surface was etched with a dense, mesmerizing three-dimensional Rune Array.

However, the most striking feature was a highly conspicuous wound on the ship’s side, near the stern.

The armor looked as if it had been brutally torn and ripped apart by some terrifyingly immense force, then crudely patched with a metal of a slightly different color. The scar was hideous, clashing with the ship’s otherwise cold and elegant design.

The moment he saw this ship, Roland’s eyes, which had been as calm as an old well, suddenly constricted.

An uncontrollable flash of cold, liquid gold passed through the depths of his pupils. His fingers, resting on the carved armrest, tightened abruptly, and the hard wood let out a faint groan, as if unable to bear the strain.

’The Shell Ship...’

’That’s the Gray Dwarf Duraga’s Shell Ship!’

’This ship... how could it be here?’

’Being displayed as the ’grand finale item’ at a secret auction in this unfamiliar era?’

’What about Duraga himself?’

’That crude patch, that torn wound...’

’What in the world happened?’

Countless questions and a cold, ominous premonition, like poison-tipped Ice Cones, stabbed viciously into Roland’s chest.

The entire Dark Moon Hall fell into an absolute, dead silence, as if even breathing had been suppressed by the sudden appearance of this creation.

Only the silently hovering Shell Ship, with the low hum from its own Force Field, radiated a silent yet overwhelming presence.

It became the absolute focus of all eyes, all shock, and all silent speculation.