Ash himself was no drinker.
Well, he had never drunk before to his knowledge. Not in his life on Earth, not during the first cycle, and especially not in this one. So, as Elara stood shocked at the beauty of his face—her adaptive eyes widening, silver hair lengthening in flustered waves—he smirked and sat down on the plush shadow-silk cushions, wings folding neatly.
With a casual flex of his Creation Law, rose-pink light shimmered in his palm. A bottle of deep crimson wine materialized, in glass etched with subtle paradox runes, liquid swirling like captured starlight and blood.
Two crystal goblets followed, filling themselves with the rich, aromatic vintage—notes of eternal roses and forbidden desire.
He offered one to her.
"Wine?" he asked, voice low and teasing. "You can say I made it myself.... It should pair well with interesting company."
Elara recovered, blush deepening as her robes shifted to a slightly more elegant cut. She took the goblet, fingers brushing his—lingering a heartbeat too long.
"You… create wine too?" she asked, sitting across from him, legs crossing gracefully. The VIP room's holographic walls displayed the main auction hall below—thousands of races gathered in tiered galleries, auras mingling in a symphony of power.
Ash sipped—first time, the taste rich, warm, heady. He didn't hate it.
"Well," he replied, leaning back with a lazy smile, "let's just say I create all things…"
As the words left his lips, he silently activated his title |Forger of the Unwritten Cycle| alongside Eternal Origin Nexus. Rose-pink light shimmered faintly in his palm—subtle enough to seem like a trick of the room's mana glow.
Two earrings appeared—delicate drops of liquid mana sealed within adaptive crystal that changed color to reflect the wearer's mood. They radiated a subtle power, offering passive boosts to bloodline purity, gently raising rank without effort, and usable by any race.
He extended his hand, offering them.
"A gift," he said, voice low and teasing. "Something small.... To match the company."
Elara's adaptive eyes widened, silver hair lengthening in a flustered wave as she reached out, fingers brushing his. The earrings floated to her ears on their own, settling with a soft glow that made her skin shimmer faintly.
"They're… beautiful," she whispered, touching one gently. A subtle warmth spread through her—bloodline stirring, purity refining in quiet waves. "And powerful. You just… made these? Now?"
Ash's dual-hued eyes glinted. "Like I said—all things."
The auction below continued—bidding wars flaring for lesser relics.
Elara leaned forward, goblet forgotten, affection surging past 50 % in a rush—warmth, intrigue, desire.
"You're dangerous," she murmured, smile playful but eyes serious. "Creating Paragon-quality gifts on a whim… in a VIP room."
Ash chuckled. "Dangerous? Well, to some I may be... but for you? Nah."
She laughed—light, genuine, her silver hair curling flirtatiously around her shoulders as if responding to the spark between them. The sound was melodic, drawing Ash's gaze for a moment longer.
The holographic walls of the VIP room shimmered, offering a perfect panoramic view of the main auction hall below—a colossal amphitheater spanning kilometers, tiered galleries rising like golden waves under a dome of living mana-crystal that pulsed with the bids' energy.
Billions filled the seats: dragons in humanoid splendor with scales glinting like jewels, elves with leaf-crowns whispering ancient bids, beastkin roaring challenges, void-beings cloaked in nothingness, and countless others—every race from every corner of four galaxies. The air thrummed with restrained power, auras brushing like invisible storms, the scent of wealth and ambition thick enough to taste.
At the center stage, the host—a neutral golem of polished gold and crystal, voice amplified to reach every ear—stood elevated on a floating dais.
"Lot forty-seven: Divine Relic—the Heart of the Fallen Star, capable of sustaining a galaxy's core for ten eras! Bidding starts at twenty billion mana stones!"
The hall erupted.
Bids flashed on massive holograms—numbers soaring in golden script.
A dragon elder roared, "Twenty-five billion!"
An elf matriarch countered coolly, "Thirty!"
Tension rippled—rival factions glaring across galleries, subtle aura flares testing boundaries without breaking neutrality.
Then Liam Nocturne rose in the Nocturne section—scarred face twisted in cold triumph, silver hair gleaming under blood-moon lights projected for his clan's comfort. His Ninth Calamity aura flared briefly, silencing nearby bidders.
"Fifty billion," he declared, voice cutting like a scythe.
Gasps echoed.
A few hesitant counters—fifty-five, sixty.
Liam's eyes burned psychotic fire. "One hundred billion."
Silence.
The host's golem voice boomed. "Sold! To the Nocturne representative—one hundred billion mana stones!"
The crowd murmured—shock, envy, whispers of Nocturne's endless wealth.
In the VIP room, Ash's attention sharpened.
'This bastard is here,' he thought, rage flickering cold beneath the calm surface as Liam's scarred figure dominated the Nocturne bidding section below.
'How could he travel distances so far?'
[Master, you must remember the Consortium is absolute neutral ground,] Elysia reminded gently.
[They have connections with multiple worlds, factions, and even galaxies. It's no surprise major players appear.]
His dual-hued eyes narrowed, the cold fire intensifying.
'Good… He won't leave here alive,' Ash thought, a slow, dangerous smile creeping across his face—evil, promising.
Then a thought struck him—something that had foolishly slipped his mind.
He closed his eyes briefly, willing the blood pool he'd given the Nocturnes to return.
One must remember: any creation of his remained tied to his will, his desires. If he wanted it back, it took only a thought.
The pool vanished from Nocturne Prime's vaults—shrinking to a crimson seed that appeared floating in his inner universe, pulsing innocently.
'Fuckers…' he thought, satisfaction warm.
Elara noticed the shift, her adaptive eyes softening with concern as her silver hair curled slightly.
"Someone you know?" she asked quietly, leaning closer, the scent of starlight herbs from her skin brushing him.
Ash's smile returned—slow, dangerous, but directed at her now.
"An old… acquaintance," he said, voice low.
He turned fully to her, mood lightening as he leaned in, dual-hued eyes leaking a subtle thread of Desire—warm, intoxicating.