As Lucy's enthralling voice echoed through the grand hall, an electric tension settled over nobles and masked guests alike.
The chandeliers dimmed further, casting everything under pools of drifting shadow. All eyes were fixed upon the central stage.
"Esteemed guests," She Purred, every syllable sliding like velvet over sharpened steel, "I present you the third-last treasure of today's grand auction!"
A hush deeper than before gripped the auction hall. Two attendants stepped forth, carrying an obsidian tray shrouded in an ethereal mist.
As the mist dispersed, it revealed an ancient scroll, its surface cracked and flaked by age. Dark runic markings of a lost script coiled across it like living serpents, faintly glowing under the lights.
"This," Lucy began, her voice low and hushed, "Is an incomplete Map of a Wandering Realm—discovered by an Abyss Wanderer who barely escaped alive from its depths."
