The hall fell silent after Kael placed his 6,000 mindstone bid. Not a single whisper or shuffle, just stillness. None of the non-VIPs dared to raise their signs, and most lacked the funds to do so even if they wanted to. It was looking good. But didn't everything look good before it turned bad?
'That only leaves the VIPs.'
Kael's gaze shifted across the veiled booths.
The regular bidders had stepped down, some out of fear, others out of respect. But those rules didn't necessarily bind the VIPs. That fact had already been proven by booth 22 during their earlier exchange. And now, with a mote once owned by a Paragon on the line, Kael had no doubt they would rise to challenge him again.
And as if on cue, the silence cracked.
"7,000 mindstones, bid from booth 14."
Without delay, Kael turned to the young woman beside him and whispered a brief instruction. She nodded, then straightened her back.
"8,000 mindstones, booth 3."
The auctioneer barely finished before calling again.
"9,000 mindstones, booth 22."
"10,000 mindstones, booth 3."
The hall was no longer still. The storm had begun.
The Luminaires below didn't speak. The bidding had reached such an absurd height that everyone understood: this was no longer about the mote itself. This was a battle between powerhouses.
The pace of the bids had picked up rapidly. The auctioneer could barely catch his breath as he shouted over the storm of offers, each one higher than the last.
"15,000, booth 3!"
Kael leaned back slightly, eyes steady, but his brow furrowed.
'What's their problem?'
He was the current highest bidder, but he found himself genuinely confused. He didn't even know who he was bidding against, or why they were pushing the price to such extremes.
If the money had been his own, he wouldn't have gone anywhere near this high. Maybe two thousand, twenty-five hundred at most. It was, after all, just a rank two mote.
Yes, it had once belonged to a Paragon. And yes, the hall was filled with people so wealthy they didn't even know what to do with their money, but even with all that in mind, this was beyond excessive.
Motes like this never sold for more than a few thousand.
'Is it pride, or something else?'
Kael's gaze sharpened, turning colder by the second. Was he really about to suffer because someone couldn't handle being outbid?
His mind moved quickly, threading together possibilities and conclusions like wire.
'Booth 22... they've been the most aggressive besides me.'
His eyes narrowed.
'Are they just desperate for the mote, or are they targeting booth three?'
There wasn't much to go on, but the possibility was real. The VIP booths were supposed to be anonymous, but Kael knew the truth behind that illusion. For the right price, names could be bought. Influence came with many privileges, and secrecy wasn't one of them, not when power was involved.
After all, no one in power ever sat back and watched their enemies grow stronger. Not if they could help it.
Still, with too little to work from, Kael pushed the thought aside for now. He remained silent, watching the auctioneer, waiting for the call that would end the bidding.
But it never came.
"16,000 mindstones, booth 22."
Kael exhaled, the breath slow and tight. He slumped back into his chair, shoulders relaxing, not from relief, but from resignation.
'This is my limit.'
He could push further, but he wouldn't. Not with borrowed wealth. Every mindstone he was wagering belonged to Darian and the Claymores. And while Darian had offered support, Kael knew there was a line. Everyone had one.
And if he crossed it without permission?
Then he'd be buying a mote with money that didn't exist.
'I'll have to try my luck again tomorrow.'
Kael watched the stage a moment longer before pushing himself up from the chair. It was the last mote of today's auction, and even if he wanted it, he simply didn't have the funds to keep fighting.
He was only a few steps from the curtain when the auctioneer's voice rang out once more.
"20,000 mindstones, bid from booth 3!"
Kael stopped in his tracks.
'What? I didn't place that.'
He turned back, eyes narrowing, and saw Darian leaning toward the young woman, whispering something low.
Kael raised an eyebrow.
'Did the mote catch his interest too?'
He stepped back toward his chair, easing down beside Darian, just as he opened his mouth to speak, only to be met by a raised hand.
Without turning, Darian held up his palm, signaling him to wait.
Kael blinked at the silent gesture, a little taken aback. But he didn't argue.
Instead, a faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he leaned back into the armchair once more.
'So now it's my turn to watch the show.'
As soon as Darian took the lead, the price skyrocketed. He didn't hesitate, raising the bid to 25,000 mindstones without blinking, and then again to 30,000 only moments later.
What began in stunned silence quickly turned into loud, animated discussion among the Luminaires below.
"Thirty thousand? Did I hear that right?"
"You did," someone replied. "Looks like it's a full-blown clash between two noble families."
"I could live a lifetime in luxury with that kind of money…"
The bidding war between booth 22 and booth 3 raged, each offer climbing higher than the last. The numbers thrown out were absurd, completely detached from the actual value of the mote.
Only when the price hit 40,000 mindstones did booth 22 finally go quiet.
Kael turned to glance at Darian.
He was surprised, genuinely surprised. The man beside him wasn't the laid-back Luminaire he'd grown used to. In his place sat someone entirely different. Focused. Composed. Relentless. It didn't feel like sitting next to a young cultivator anymore, it felt like sitting beside a seasoned banker negotiating the future of a dynasty.
Darian's posture was straight, his eyes locked on booth 22, his expression carved from stone. He didn't so much as glance at Kael. It was as if the rest of the world had ceased to exist.
"Sold, for 40,000 mindstones, to booth 3!"
A murmur of relief swept through the hall. The tension broke, replaced by quiet cheers and hushed disbelief.
"Forty thousand… you could buy a rank five mote for that."
"Sure, but don't forget, it belonged to Emberveil Gale Demon Paragon. Honestly, I'm shocked it didn't go higher."
"Yeah. I almost forgot… can you imagine owning something he used?"
Conversation rippled through the crowd, carried on waves of awe and envy. Many had come just to witness the auction, not to participate, and today they'd seen something extraordinary.
Point Aegis wasn't just a defensive strength-path mote. It had once belonged to a Paragon, one of the only nine ever known to ascend that high.
And now, it had just become the most expensive rank two mote ever sold in the history of the auction.
The moment the final mote was sold, the young woman who had accompanied them quietly exited the booth. Now, only Kael and Darian remained, sitting in silence as they watched the Luminaires below remain seated, waiting patiently for the crowd to thin before making their exit.
Darian turned toward Kael and flashed a smile. "Come, let's go retrieve it, shall we?" He nodded toward the exit.
Kael didn't respond, but followed closely behind.
By the time they stepped out onto the empty streets, night had already fallen. The moon hung high above them, casting a silver glow across the city. Both exhaled deeply as the stifling, warm air of the auction hall gave way to the crisp, refreshing bite of fall.
They walked without urgency, speaking occasionally as they stretched out their legs, shaking off the stiffness built up over hours of sitting.
Only when they reached the cliffs along the coast did Darian come to a stop. He stood still, eyes fixed on the moonlit water. The only sounds that accompanied them were the slow waves brushing against the rock below.
Then, Darian raised his hand.
Gold flecks shimmered into view, swirling together above his palm until they condensed into a perfect, symmetrical cube, pale, metallic, and faintly glinting under the moonlight.
"The Point Aegis mote?" Kael asked, already knowing the answer.
Darian didn't reply. He simply waited for the mote to finish stabilizing.
Once it had fully manifested, he casually tossed it toward Kael.
"Catch."
Kael fumbled, yanking his hands from his coat pockets, they stuck for a fraction of a second, but he managed to catch the mote just before it hit the ground.
"What's this?"
Kael straightened his back, eyes narrowing slightly as he looked at Darian.
"Take it," Darian said simply, his tone casual.
Kael gave him a doubtful look.
"What? Can't the almighty, benevolent savior Darian show his grace toward the poor?"
He said it with mock offense, but the grin tugging at his lips gave him away.
Kael stared at him with a flat expression, dead silent.
"Why must you be so boring all the time?" Darian sighed, slipping his hands into his pockets, his gaze drifting out over the lake.
"You can call it a goodbye gift, or whatever suits you. And don't bother thinking about paying it back, this one's on me."
He reached into his inner coat pocket, pulled out a small pair of keys, and tossed them toward Kael again.
Kael caught them with a soft clink of metal in his hand, frowning slightly.
"Keys?"
He turned them over, clearly puzzled.
"…What's gotten into you?"
"My family's planning to expand the banks to the southern continent in a few years. They want me to go as a representative."
Darian's eyes stayed on the water, watching the way the moonlight danced along the surface.
"I expect it to take around two years… with travel included. But it can't be helped. It's part of the duty I carry as a Claymore heir."
"I see."
Kael's voice was quiet, but steady.
"A curse and a blessing, being born into a powerful house."
"Right."
Darian chuckled, though it sounded more like an exhale than amusement.
"But I should be fine. The keys are to my apartment. Feel free to stay as long as you want."
Kael nodded once. "I see…"
He focused his will again, pouring it slowly into the Point Aegis mote resting in his hand. The energy within stirred faintly, as if acknowledging the attention.
"Anyway," Darian said, letting a small grin tug at his lips, "there's no way you had sixteen thousand mindstones lying around to throw on a mote like that. What was the plan?"
The mood had grown a little too serious, so he nudged it sideways.
But before Kael could reply, Darian cut in.
"Ah, almost forgot. Do you still have that note I gave you back at the fighting club?"
Kael reached into his coat and pulled out a bloodstained, weathered scrap of paper. Darian's handwriting still clung to it, though time and use had faded some of the ink.
Darian looked down at it and shook his head with a soft laugh.
"I'll write you a new one, with my signature this time. Like before, just go to the address listed there. It's the Claymore estate. Show that note, and they'll help you without question."
"Thanks."
Kael accepted the new note and slipped it carefully into his inner pocket.
Darian raised an eyebrow.
"So you can be grateful. Had me worried you'd turned into a monolith or something."
He laughed again, light, but genuine.
They stood in silence for a moment, the lake's breeze brushing past like a final breath before a turning point.
A few more words were exchanged, short, but meaningful, before they finally turned and walked in separate directions, parting without ceremony.
The moon hung high above, casting its silver light over Velthoria.
And beneath it, two figures drifted apart under the weight of different futures.