The air at the vast underground auction was crisp and cool, like the fresh air system in a movie theater.
Damon and Kingsley arrived, the former relaxed, the latter wary.
"Relax, you look like you're ready for battle. You've partnered with me so many times, aren't you used to it yet?"
"Yes,"
Kingsley said, a wry smile flickering across his face. He
was always straightforward, attacking the enemy's base camp, and engaging in combat at the slightest disagreement. Who could get used to that?
After so many partnerships with Caliban, the only lesson he had learned was this:
Don't let the quiet moment fool you, like they were on a covert mission; a fight could break out at any moment.
He must always be prepared for battle.
Lord Caliban was right, at least for now, they were still undercover. His behavior was too obvious—but, did it matter?
Kingsley wasn't being arrogant; the two guards at the entrance were about to inspect the invitation when they were bewildered by a silently cast Confusion Spell.
So ingenious, so silent.
Kingsley glanced past the guards—the spacious underground auction hall was already packed.
Furthermore, figures in black robes passed within a few meters of them, both in front and behind them, yet no one noticed the magical fluctuations.
The guard, without checking the tokens, handed the two men their black, bird-beaked masks.
Damon took them with a smile, exchanged a glance with Kingsley, and they both donned the masks.
Kingsley looked at him, about to say something, but decided against it. He wanted to say, "Be careful of magical surveillance. The guards didn't check their nonexistent tokens, and perhaps something had happened."
And so it was.
This underground auction hall was frequented by powerful and high-ranking figures in the magical world. How could security be limited to just two simple guards?
The two secret sentries, who rotated every four hours, had already noticed something unusual, and those observing everything from the dark rooftop observation deck had witnessed it all.
"Fudge doesn't look right. Why has his demeanor changed so drastically?"
West hissed, pacing back and forth, a bit perplexed.
Just as the sentry was about to approach and question him, he quickly used telepathy to say,
"Don't alarm him!"
"Why? I need a reason."
The sentry and he were jointly responsible. If anything went wrong, he would face the maximum penalty, death, depending on the severity of the situation.
"I know there's something wrong with this Fudge. But if you go and question him, you might alarm him, do you understand?"
"So what if he's truly suspicious?"
The voice suddenly paused.
The most widely circulated rumor on the black market recently concerned Caliban Mortos and his methods. "When you discover he's infiltrated, don't try to capture him. Try to maintain order and then quickly disperse!"
"You mean this man is Mortos?"
The sentry's voice, always calm and lifeless, suddenly became passionate, as if an emotionless killer had suddenly realized the truth, goodness, and beauty.
Ah, the world is so beautiful. Do we have to fight and kill?
"Well, I suspect so. If you look closely at that old fox Fudge, he's a bit flamboyant, but that kind of underlying confidence can't be faked. Wherever he stands, I feel he's full of energy. Buddy, please don't bother him. I beg you."
"So what do we do now?"
"I've already told the big boss to maintain the status quo until he gives the order—at least, Mortos isn't planning to take action yet, right?"
The sentry fell silent, retracting his steps. He even made himself more discreet, observing Fudge Mortos's companions from the corner of his eye.
If a fight threatened, he would Apparate and escape immediately. Even a second later, with the terrifying Mortos's style, he'd likely seal off the entire scene.
The sentry's unprecedented nervousness grew at this thought.
His life was truly in his hands this time; he could only hope he'd be gentle.
As for the boss's reckoning after his escape?
That would wait until he survived this time. Regardless, this black market was likely doomed.
"Wait, there's that thing at the auction!"
His eyes suddenly lit up.
With a hostage, Mortos would be wary of any consequences. Well, his chances of escape were a little better.
Damon and Kingsley, completely clueless about all this, found an empty seat under guidance—Kingsley was already sweating profusely.
All the seats at the auction were serialized, corresponding to their invitations, except theirs.
Were they specially prepared? Was this a common occurrence?
His mind raced, and he subconsciously glanced at the assassin beside him—he was gazing at the stands with great interest, seemingly intrigued by the upcoming collection.
Hmm. He didn't know if it was just Kingsley's imagination, but he always felt that Caliban was always in high spirits at the black market, admiring the curious objects in the wall cabinets while simultaneously guillotining the people who made them.
Sometimes, Kingsley couldn't quite fathom his thoughts.
Like now. The thought of the two of them facing a siege by potentially hundreds of wizards made him feel a bit overwhelmed. He hadn't had much experience with this sort of thing.
In short, try not to hold Lord Caliban back. He felt it was inevitable, though.
Thinking of this, Kingsley suddenly felt a little tired, a twinge of genuine envy for those around him. If he could possess such power, even if it meant becoming a Death Eater, he might hesitate before refusing.
As he lost his mind, the red curtain opened, revealing a black-clad gentleman wearing a white smiling mask.
"Dear guests, on behalf of Master X, I welcome you."
He clapped his hands loudly after his opening remarks. Strippers below the stage wheeled an object wrapped in purple star cloth onto a cart.
"I believe you've all heard of Ravenclaw's Diadem? This treasure left by that great lady grants wisdom to anyone who wears it. Sadly, we haven't been able to find its whereabouts yet."
Savender quietly squeezed his palms and delivered his pre-written lines, trying not to look in the direction of 'Fudge' below.
Savender. You can. Just now, the higher-ups suddenly reversed the order of the auction items, moving all dangerous and inhumane items or people to the back of the order.
He even argued with the steward about this.
"This goes against the purpose of the auction. I disagree!"
"Caliban Mortos is in the audience right now. Do you want to provoke him?"
"I completely agree!"
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