The intense wave of anger that had surged through Dunce moments ago vanished as abruptly as Frostbone's cool lips brushed his. She withdrew from his embrace with a fluid grace, retreating to his side. Yet, she kept one arm looped through his, her slender form pressed close. Frostbone was gone, but her scent – a mix of something clean and chillingly exotic – lingered. Dunce felt fundamentally altered. His whole body thrummed with an aftermath of intense sensation, a deep, resonant shock that locked him rigid on the plush velvet sofa. His mind was a white-noise void.
On the stage, Goldwave waited for the audience's excited murmurs to subside. A professional smile played on his lips. "Given the… *unique* acquisition process for these five Ziheche [Human Placenta], the starting price reflects their rarity. Five million 'Credits'. Bidding is open." His words ignited an immediate frenzy. "Six million!" The bid shot up with greedy urgency, the supposed power of the Light Mage's Ziheche proving potent catnip. It finally hammered down at thirteen million to a portly merchant sweating silk and avarice.
The disturbing display jolted Dunce out of his emotional fog. The cold commercialism of the Ziheche warred with the unsettling intimacy of Frostbone's kiss. It left him feeling disjointed, yearning to flee this decadent hellhole that seemed purpose-built to torment him. Good-hearted Dunce instinctively shrank from the thought of confronting the immense darkness that operated this place. He despised this evil, yet the impulse to fight it felt alien, daunting. His gentleness had its flip side: a deep-seated aversion to conflict, perhaps even… cowardice.
Goldwave unveiled the next lot. Under the crimson cloth wasn't an item, but a person. Or rather, *not quite* a person. She crawled within a heavy steel cage. Her frame was humanoid, yet subtly alien. Pale yellow down covered her back. Twin pointed ears stood rigid on her head. Most distinctive – a long, thick tail coiled beside her. Her tangled grey hair did nothing to hide delicate, captivating features. She was utterly naked, shivering, hands clasped protectively over her chest. Sharp claws tipped her fingers. Her front seemed bare of fur. Large, luminous jade eyes darted fearfully. A thick collar encircled her throat, chained to the cage bars. A low, continuous whimper escaped her.
Girln Shi sucked in a sharp breath. "Catkin!" His voice was tight. Dunce glanced at him, catching the grim intensity on Girln Shi's face. No explanation was needed.
Goldwave, clearly relishing the effect, gave the cage a sharp rap. The naked female flinched and curled tighter, tremors wracking her small frame. Goldwave addressed the room, his voice carrying predatory satisfaction. "The first truly remarkable offering of the night begins! Our sharp-eyed guest has named her origin. Correct! She belongs to the Catkin – a lesser Kin-tribe. Close to human in form, yet… distinct. Due to a pact with the formidable Tigerkin, the Catkin survive where others fell. This specimen… is *exquisite*. And I guarantee," he paused for effect, letting the implication hang heavy, "she's unspoiled. Some of you," his gaze swept the opulently dressed clientele, "might be collectors of unique beauties. A Catkin, especially one of this quality? Rare beyond measure. A word of caution," Goldwave's tone turned practical, "their claws aren't just for show. Fast too. Securing her took significant effort and resources. If you intend to… *enjoy* your purchase, ensure you have the means to *control* her. Imagine the… entertainment. A Catkin plaything." His oily smile returned. "Bidding commences. Thirty million 'Credits'."
Dunce's blood simmered. The Ziheche trade was a done deal, impossible to stop. But the Catkin girl trembled on the edge of unimaginable suffering. Raw outrage surged, overriding his usual caution. He grabbed the bidding paddle from the table. "Forty million!" His voice cut through the hushed room.
Girln Shi snapped his head around, surprise flickering. Dunce met his gaze with iron resolve. Girln Shi's expression shifted, melting into an approving nod – an unspoken understanding passed between them.
A cool fingertip traced words onto Dunce's hand. **Frostbone:** *You wish to save her? Be warned: saving one risks you never leaving this gilded cage. Walk away.*
Dunce shook his head, a subtle movement, his lips barely moving as he silently voiced his thoughts. *"No. I won't abandon her. That word… 'plaything'… it's monstrous."*
**Frostbone:** *Save one, save them all? You think that's possible? Girls from countless races have passed through these doors – a hundred, easily.* Her touch felt colder than before.
Dunce froze. *Yes. Save this one… but the next? And the one after? How do you stop an industry built on chains?*
Goldwave's eyes flicked towards Dunce's booth with mild curiosity. "Forty million from booth thirty-six!" He scanned the room. "Do I hear forty-one?" Greed resumed its dance. Bids flew, escalating in a frantic tempo, pushing the price north of fifty million.
**Frostbone:** *If you truly wish to end this farce, bid high. This drip-feed only excites the vultures.*
Hesitation gnawed at Dunce. Then resolve solidified. He raised the paddle again. "One Hundred Million." Utter silence descended. A hundred million for a plaything? Even the wealthiest patrons paused. Goldwave called the hammer three times. "Sold! To booth thirty-six!"
Dunce disentangled himself from Frostbone's clinging arm and moved towards the stage, a stack of heavy credit chips heavy in his hand. He dumped them into Goldwave's waiting grasp. "She's mine?" His voice was gravel.
Goldwave nodded, still smiling. "The cage comes complimentary. A suggestion," his voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper that carried, "if you intend immediate… *use*, employ knockout gas. Subdues resistance effectively." Raucous laughter erupted from the floor. Dunce's expression hardened. "I won't need the cage." He strode to the heavy bars, his hands closing around metal thicker than a man's wrist. Pure white energy flared around his fists. With a terrifying screech of tearing steel, the cage bars parted like rotten timbers.
The Catkin girl huddled in the corner, eyes wide with pure terror.
Dunce crouched, his voice low and surprisingly soft, using the common Trade-Speak. "Peace. I won't hurt you. Come. Trust me?" He held her terrified gaze.
Her muscles coiled defensively, refusing to uncurl. Dunce sighed. Yellowish light flashed. The collar clattered open onto the stage floor. She flinched violently. *"Trust me,"* Dunce's thoughts whispered into her mind, an impossible sensation. *"No harm. Come. After this place, I return your freedom. Back to your Kin."* Soft white light emanated from his palm onto her exposed shoulder. Warmth bloomed within her, carrying an impossible sense of calm, easing the choking fear. The instinctive recoil faded. She crawled forward, inch by inch, towards the terrifying young man. Dunce snatched the discarded crimson cloth and wrapped it securely around her trembling form. "Believe." He lifted her carefully, his movements impossibly light, and landed back in his booth beside Girln Shi, gently depositing the wrapped figure onto the now-clear sofa.
Stunned silence followed. Goldwave gaped. Murmurs erupted like startled hornets.
"Who *is* that kid? New blood?"
"Must be Dark Splendor's fresh muscle. Robes… mage? But that didn't look like any magic *I* know."
"Heavy hitter for sure. Stay clear."
Dunce ignored the buzz. He cradled the Catkin girl; her tremors felt like captured lightning against his arms. Girln Shi nudged the two attendants aside, making space. Dunce settled her gently onto the sofa. She seemed physically unharmed, but fear had carved deep lines into her spirit. He channeled a steady stream of that soothing inner warmth into her. "Shhh. Safe now. Over. I'll get you home." He spoke softly.
Large jade eyes blinked rapidly. Words remained trapped in her throat, but within the crimson bundle, the frantic trembling slowly eased under the flood of calming energy.
Frostbone, watching from Dunce's other side, let out a quiet sigh. "Fortunate creature." Her voice was flat. She seemed to retreat within herself, a wellspring of hidden sorrow.
Dunce turned to Frostbone. "Is there a facility? She needs proper clothes." The press of the girl's body against his had reignited an inner struggle he couldn't afford right now.
Frostbone nodded stiffly. She addressed the bundle. "Come with me."
The Catkin shook her head violently, eyes squeezed shut, pressing desperately against Dunce's warmth, unwilling to move an inch. The calm energy and the genuine kindness in the young man's eyes were the only anchor she had in this nightmare sea. Dunce sighed, realizing her newfound dependence. "Let's both go." He scooped her up again. Explaining briefly to Girln Shi, he followed Frostbone out.
A discreet side room awaited. Frostbone produced a set of white pants and tunic identical to her own. Seeing Dunce standing frozen, holding the girl, Frostbone's voice held an edge. "Leaving? Or planning to watch the changing?"
Dunce startled. He gently tried to place the Catkin on a nearby cot, but small, strong hands with wickedly sharp claws clung desperately to his robe. "I… afraid," she managed to rasp, her voice rough with disuse and terror. "I… afraid."
Frostbone's lips thinned. "Fine. Stay. Eyes closed. Turn your back."
Dunce complied, a soldier at attention. He felt the shift of the fabric, the quiet movements. Soon, Frostbone's voice: "Tandore."
Dunce opened his eyes. The Catkin stood, now clad in the borrowed white outfit, looking incredibly vulnerable, hunched shyly on the cot. Frostbone sat beside her. A flicker of genuine smile touched Frostbone's lips for a fleeting moment. The sight of the two beauties, one regal yet withdrawn, the other scared yet transformed, momentarily stole Dunce's breath.
Frostbone stood. "We return. Your friends wait."
Shaking himself back to reality, Dunce faced the Catkin. "Your name? I bought you… without malice. Once out of here, your life is yours again. Stay near me?" He kept his voice gentle.
The Catkin looked up, a fragile, tentative nod. "Mi… Mimi."
"Then we leave." He helped her up carefully. Legs unused to standing buckled. She tumbled forward into his arms. "Steady now," Dunce murmured, catching her effortlessly. He kept a hand on her elbow as he guided her out. Mimi stayed glued to his side, deriving strength from his touch and presence. Behind them, Frostbone watched their exit. Her cool eyes burned with a sudden, unexpected ferocity. Jealousy. Raw and sharp.
Back in the auction chamber, the cleaned-up Mimi drew Girln Shi's appreciative eye. Her innate fragility tugged at the protective instincts. Dunce slid in beside Girln Shi. Mimi glued herself to his side, her terrified tremors finally quieting in the shelter he seemed to radiate. Frostbone, displaced to the end of the sofa, moved with unsettling stillness. Her eyes held a flat, cold disappointment as she sat, silent and apart.
The stage was empty. Dunce leaned towards Girln Shi. "The Elf?"
Girln Shi shook his head. "This Under-City auction… eye-opening. While you were gone, more 'goods'. Unheard of. All darker than sin. Nothing fetched less than five million. Goldwave just announced an intermission. Second round soon."
Dunce nodded, glancing at Mimi. He kept his voice low. "Mimi. How… how did you end up here?"
The question jolted her. Memories flooded back. Her body stiffened. Large, terrified eyes met his, shimmering with unshed tears. "True? Trust you?" A hoarse whisper.
Dunce met her gaze steadily. "Yes. Freedom. I promise."
Mimi's fingers dug into his arm. Words spilled out in a terrified rush. "Good life. Catkin tribe. Small, yes. Weak, among Kin-folk. But… Tigerkin protectors. Strong brothers. Kind." Her voice hitched. "Playing… woods. Net fell… sky!" Her eyes squeezed shut, reliving the horror. "Men… black. Smell… sweet… poison. Dark." She shuddered. "Wake… cage time? Months? Thought… die. You? Really… home…?"
Dunce's gut clenched. *The Syndicate. Always trafficking misery.* "Yes, Mimi. Home. Safe. Fear gone." He gathered her closer. His inner energy shifted, flowing gently along specific pathways in her small frame. Mimi's eyelids fluttered closed. Her tense form relaxed, and she sank into deep, exhausted sleep. Frostbone watched the process, silent and unreadable. Her gaze was pure frost. On stage, Goldwave reappeared. The final act began.
Lot after monstrous lot passed under the gavel. Nothing failed to sell. A bottle of viscous, foul-smelling liquid was offered as Nai'er Poison – a hyper-lethal, untraceable toxin. A collection of grimoires promised forbidden knowledge at a staggering price. The escalating depravity ignited a slow-burning anger in Dunce. Why? Why did such darkness thrive? These patrons were monsters. A sword forged in darkness seemed *merciful* compared to this greed-molded human evil. The most poisonous thing? Human hearts. No. A resolve, sharp and bitter, crystalized. *This ends. Somewhere, people bleed for this obscenity.*
Finally, Goldwave approached the podium, radiating triumph. "Distinguished patrons! Our pinnacle offering awaits! A chance to acquire the *crown jewel* of tonight's sale!" A draped cart was wheeled center stage. Goldwave grasped the crimson cloth like a showman. "This transcends rarity! Its kind walks among mortals as myth! Tonight, myth becomes *possession*!" He ripped the cloth away.
Another cage. Inside, coiled within transparent wings like fragile armor, lay a figure. Female. Elven.
Steel chains secured her wrists and ankles. An intricate collar circled her slender throat. A band of dark metal, set with an obsidian gem glowing with faint malevolence, crowned her forehead. The gem seemed to leach vitality. Pointed ears confirmed her heritage. A cascade of pale sage-green hair partially obscured her face, but the inherent grace and ethereal beauty of her lineage were undeniable. Gasps and shocked murmurs rippled through the room like an electric current.
Dunce exchanged a swift glance with Girln Shi and the other man. The spark was instantaneous. *Target acquired.*
Goldwave's voice boomed, feeding on the frenzy. "Your eyes confirm the impossible! An Elf! Not merely any Elf – a High Elf! A natural magic weaver! Her power," he gestured dismissively at the collar, "is contained. Specialized dampeners – crafted by our finest Artificer! This collar binding her will, these chains her form. She will bend to her master's touch! The perfection of an Elven consort? Need I elaborate? Her worth is self-evident!" He let the implication hang, thick and cloying. "The dampening circlet alone commands two million! Stellating price for the Elven High Mage… ten million 'Credits'. Proceed!"
A feeding frenzy erupted. "Fifteen!" "Eighteen!" "Twenty-two!" Prices skyrocketed in a matter of seconds. By the time it hit sixty million, Dunce and his companions were stunned into mute horror.
Dunce remembered Frostbone's advice. He raised his paddle. "Eighty Million!" The roar died instantly. The sum resonated like a physical blow in the hushed hall.
Goldwave's gaze locked onto booth thirty-six. "Eighty million! Booth thirty-six sets the bar!" He scanned the crowd, a predator scenting blood. "Going once… Going twice…"
"ONE HUNDRED MILLION." The voice rasped from the deepest, most obscure corner, thick with unnatural distortion.
Heads swiveled. Dunce's spine prickled with instinctive warning. The shadowed booth revealed nothing. *The Mystic Bidder.* One hundred million. Beyond their means. But the Elf was non-negotiable. Dunce reacted without conscious thought. He bent low, concealing his hands, shielding Mimi. His lips moved silently. A faint azure shimmer pulsed around him. When he straightened, he held a coiled length of incredibly fine, almost translucent white strand. *Viper Serpent Armor Sinew, Ten-Millennia Aged.* Focusing his inner power to its razor edge, he sliced off a five-yard length with an unseen blade.
"NINETY MILLION!" Dunce's voice boomed, holding the sinew aloft. "AND THIS!"
Goldwave blinked, momentarily flustered. He knew their depleted reserves. The hundred-million bid should have crushed them. Yet here he stood… *bartering*? "Booth thirty-six… our exchange is currency-based. The… strand's worth? Speculative." Skepticism laced his tone.
Dunce stepped towards the stage, sinew held high. "Its true worth?" He moved near the Elf's cage. She flinched, curling tighter. "Demonstrate its resilience. Witness." He placed the coiled sinew on the stage floor. Raising his right hand, an intense blue-white flame coalesced above his palm with a low *whoosh*. The heat radiated like an opened furnace. *"Keanu Globus!"*
The fireball levitated. Dunce directed it towards the heavy bars of the Elf's cage. **WHOOMPH!** The flame punched clean through an inch-thick steel bar. Molten metal hissed and dripped like burning wax. He retrieved the sinew and dropped it into the heart of the inferno cradled in his palm. The sinew settled, entirely unscathed, as if the searing heat were illusion.
A scoff echoed from below. "And who testifies this trinket came from a Ten-Millennia Viper Serpent Armor? Children's tales!"
**"I attest its authenticity!"** A figure rose from the VIP section. **Mibo**, the Artificer Dunce had encountered earlier. His voice silenced the murmurs. "Mibo. Known here. This Mage is Guild Ranked. His standing forbids deception. Master Mage," he inclined his head towards Dunce, "I bid two million for that sinew. Ideal catalyst." Interest rekindled instantly. Mibo had a nose for priceless components. Bids flew. Three million. Three point five. Hammered down at *five million* to a wide-eyed corporate baron clutching his prize like a lottery ticket.
The baron eyed the delicate-looking strand in his palm dubiously.
Dunce saw it. "Doubtful?" The inferno reignited above his hand. He gestured towards the Elf's cage, the melted bar a stark testament. Then he took the sinew back. It landed in his fire-cradle. Utterly unaffected. He tossed it back. The residual heat seared the baron's skin. **"HOT!"** But his eyes now shone with stunned, greedy delight.
Dunce turned back to Goldwave. "Ninety million cash. Plus five million from the sinew. *My* final bid: **Ninety-Five Million** for the Elf."
Goldwave stared, processing the sheer display of power. "Ninety-five million from booth thirty-six! Last call!" The shadowed booth stayed silent. Goldwave's voice shook slightly. "**SOLD!** To booth thirty-six!"
Dunce felt no triumph, only grim purpose. He strode to the cage, ignoring Goldwave's frantic warning: "Sir! The chains! The collar! She *will* escape! She *is* a Mage!" Dunce reached through the gap he'd melted earlier. The Elf braced herself for violation, tears tracing paths down her delicate cheeks.
She felt weight vanish. The crushing pressure on her mind… *lifted*. Her inner power rushed back, a torrent released. She gasped, snapping her eyes open. The terrifying young man hadn't touched her. He held her collar, dampener and all, in his hands. His expression held pure fury. Before Goldwave or the astonished Elf could react, he clenched his fists. A yellow-white light pulsed, intense and sharp. The collar collapsed inward, disintegrating into fine, dark ash that drifted like snow onto the stage.
The Elf gaped, momentarily forgetting her reclaimed magic lay ready. She stared at this impossible rescuer.
"Y-you destroyed it!" Goldwave spluttered, horrified. "The dampener! The investment! She'll blast us all!"
Dunce ignored him. From an inner pocket, he drew a delicate bracer, its jade-green hue glowing with ethereal life. *Fae Forged Armguard.* He offered it towards the Elf. "Know this?"
The Elf's eyes locked onto the artifact. Recognition blazed like dawn. Pure, unfiltered natural power washed over her, stronger than any memory. Her kin *had* come! Rescue wasn't a fantasy! She broke. A heart-wrenching sob tore from her as she threw herself against the cage bars, wrapping her arms around Dunce's waist, clinging with the strength of desperation born from hell. "My people… oh, my people!" The words were a river of tears.
Dunce gently enfolded her. Amidst the stunned silence, he scooped up the still-sleeping Mimi. His gaze locked with Frostbone's for a fleeting, inscrutable moment. "We leave." No one moved to stop them. Before the gasps could fully form, they were through the doors, racing down the opulent staircase.
Frostbone remained seated, a perfect ice sculpture. Her hands trembled almost imperceptibly. Goldwave approached cautiously.
"Frostbone?" His tone was deferential. Her rank within the owner's structure unnerved him.
Frostbone stood abruptly, her gaze distant and glacial. "The Master?"
Goldwave fidgeted. "Returned to the Governor's compound earlier. But… likely nearby. You know how… *important* these three are. A welcoming party is… expected." His implication was clear.
Frostbone's eyes flickered – an iceberg calving. Without a word, she swept out, moving with the silent precision of a hunting predator.
Exiting the garish neon embrace of "Azure Glory," Dunce felt the oppressive tension lessen. The Elf in his arms trembled with relief and terror. Mimi slept, a fragile doll. Girln Shi and his comrade flanked them protectively. The immediate danger was past, replaced by a different, colder threat. He understood the city draped in neon hid serpentine coils. True safety lay beyond its fringes. But could the streets grant an exit, or was the city itself the jaws of the trap? The air tasted suddenly thin. Their escape had just begun.