The auction had already started. The crowd buzzed with excitement—murmurs, shuffling feet, the clink of coins being counted. Everyone was setting their prices for weapons. The host announced the next item.
"So our next item is a Pot of Fortune. It gives you fortune during an eclipse—but only during an eclipse. The amount you get is as much as you want."
People started placing their bids. Voices overlapped—"Nine hundred!" "Nine fifty!" "Nine seventy-five!" The price went up by the second until one voice came:
"One thousand gold coins."
A guy with a yellow mask said it. His voice cut through the noise like a blade. The whole auction house went silent. No one said anything. The only sound was the faint crackle of torches on the walls.
Instantly, my All-Seeing Eye activated. His magic power was enormous. Power from an archmage. This guy was not normal—an unknown grand mage.
One by one, he started winning every single item. Each time the hammer fell, the crowd whispered among themselves. Coins shifted in purses. Someone coughed nervously.
"Ladies and gentlemen, now we present the final category of this auction—slaves. Today we have three magnificent slaves, hard to find anywhere. Our first slave is a pure natural creation. Everyone desires this race, especially the females—a young, untouched elf female. The starting price is seven hundred gold coins."
The crowd stirred. Chairs scraped against the stone floor. Someone whistled low. An old guy with a mustache, fat belly, and wide waist raised his paddle. "Eight hundred gold coins."
The grand mage raised his. "One thousand gold coins." His voice was calm, emotionless.
The old guy raised again. "Fifteen hundred gold coins."
The grand mage raised immediately. "Two thousand five hundred gold coins."
Then a white-robed girl with a veil raised her hand. "Five thousand gold coins."
No one spoke. No one breathed. Every eye was on that white-robed girl. The torches flickered. The host's gavel hovered in the air. The only sound was her robe rustling as she lowered her hand.
Seeing her, something happened in my chest. She felt familiar. Do I know her? But how?
"So our next slave is rare, strong, and hard to find—a race that is almost extinct from the kingdom of demihumans. Please take a good look at this white tiger demihuman."
There she was—Fang's sister. She was thin, frail. Her striped ears drooped. Her wrists were chained. She looked at the floor, not lifting her eyes.
"Let's start the auction," the host said.
Slowly, slowly, we raised our bid. But the old guy, the grand mage, and that white-robed girl raised higher than our amount. The price went up to five thousand. The auctioneer's voice echoed off the walls. The crowd murmured. Coins rattled.
Fang's knees buckled. He collapsed on the ground. A small sob escaped him. Stella and Armin had defeated expressions. At that moment, we realized we had failed to fulfill our promise.
The announcer said, "Is five hundred gold final? Anyone else?"
The room was silent except for the crackling torches and the distant drip of water somewhere below. The host's gavel began to rise.
As he was about to announce the winner, I smirked and said without hesitation, "One platinum coin."
Gasps rippled through the crowd. Someone dropped a coin. It clinked and rolled across the floor. Chairs scraped as people turned to look at me.
It was true. One platinum coin. Ten thousand gold coins. I had collected it over the past years—nine years, every day. When Lucian gave me money for myself, I saved it. And now I was using it all.
The look on everyone's face—especially Fang and Armin. They tried to say something, but nothing came out. Their mouths opened and closed like fish.
"How did you get that much money?" Stella said.
"Mom, Dad, Grandfather, even Lucian—they gave it to me. It was my savings. I collected it for almost nine years."
Fang tugged my sleeve and looked at me with a wary gaze. "Thank you. I don't know how to—"
I cut him off. "We promised you. You don't have to pay anything. Think of it like your big brother helped you."
"Finally, the last slave of this auction—the grandest slave you might ever see. We present it for the first time in slave trading history: a vampire girl," the host announced.
My body froze hearing that. Even the grand mage and the white-robed girl stiffened. Among us, no one moved. The crowd's mood shifted—sudden murmurs of disgust, whispers of fear. Someone spat on the floor.
Stella, Armin, and Fang turned back to leave, but I stood there. This feeling—something inside me was burning. A fire. The way everyone looked at that vampire girl—it was pure hatred. It was like they weren't seeing a living being, but a blood-sucking monster. I didn't know what they would do to her. Would they torture her? Kill her? Experiment on her?
Fang turned back and looked at me. He sensed the tension. His ears flattened.
The mustached guy warned the last slave because the grand mage and white-robed girl were frozen—just like me. When that fat ass looked at her, his intentions were clearly both cruel and inappropriate. His fat fingers twitched. He licked his lips.
As they approached to take her to that guy, she refused to move. Chains rattled. Her bare feet scraped against the stone floor. One of the guards yanked her collar chain and kicked her stomach. A dull thud echoed. When she fell, the other guy dragged her by the collar chain while she struggled to breathe. A faint whimper came from her. Chains scraping, footsteps heavy.
I don't know why, but I heard it clearly. It was like she was praying: Help, please save me. I felt like it was meant for me—like she was saying it directly to me. But it was more like begging, praying to God.
I moved without thinking. Metal slashed metal. The chain was slashed by my sword. Sparks flew. The sound of steel on steel rang out. It was hard—almost cracked the blade. But in the end, the chain was cut. It fell to the floor with a clatter.
"When did she—" Stella started.
The wind beside me swirled. The grand mage appeared. His robes flapped. Dust rose from the floor. He blocked the view of the vampire girl.
Before we could do anything or sense anything, the white-robed girl appeared. We couldn't sense her. Just who was she? Her veil fluttered. Her footsteps made no sound.
She started healing magic on the vampire girl. Soft green light glowed from her palms. The air hummed with energy.
I said, "Hey, you know vampires have regenerative capabilities?"
She said, "I know that. But it only works if they drink blood. Does she look like she's drank in centuries?" Her voice was calm, almost sad.
The mustached guy yelled, "You got the elf! And you, twerp, got the white tiger! Let me have that blood-sucking bitch!" His voice echoed off the walls. Spit flew from his mouth.
"What did you say?"
Something inside me screamed: Kill, kill, kill, kill, kill, kill, kill.
No—I wasn't holding my sword, Crimson Death. It wasn't in my hand. But why was it still happening? My hand trembled. My heart pounded.
My eyes glowed red. My cloak started flapping in the air. My hair floated back. Then a sudden shining white light mixed with a red crimson light. The pressure was intense. It pushed against everyone nearby. Papers flew. Torches flickered. Something materialized. My hand reached for it—and there it came. Crimson Death. It appeared from that shining light, solid and cold in my grip.
Wait—why was it so burning hot? Steam rose from the blade. The gem pulsed.
Chirp, chirp.
"What are you doing here?"
It was the phoenix bird, Atlas. His feathers glowed. He landed on my shoulder. His warmth spread through my cloak.
"Is it you, Felix?"
I looked at him truly this time, up close. He lifted his mask. It was none other than Master Lucian. His old face was stern but his eyes were soft.
"Lucian? What are you doing here?" I asked.
"It's a long story." He lowered his staff. The tip touched the floor with a soft tap.
"Look, we're surrounded," I said. Guards closed in. Footsteps echoed. Swords scraped against scabbards. The crowd backed away, chairs scraping.
"Felix, listen. Cast a barrier around that girl," Lucian barked. "I'm going to blast everything."
"Don't you dare," I said. "My friends are here too."
Armin came forward. His boots echoed on the stone. Stella stayed with Fang. She pulled him behind her.
Lucian raised his staff. The air crackled. I pointed my Crimson Death. The blade hummed. Armin pulled out his gold-hilted iron guard sword named Regulus. The metal sang as it left the scabbard.
"Shall we start the feast?" Armin said. A smirk crossed his face.
Lucian smiled. "Let's get the party started."
Sharp rock bullets formed in the air. There were ten of them. Lucian's magic—Earth Bullet. Stone grinding against stone. They hovered, spinning slowly. Armin lunged with quick movement, his sword ready to cut. His boots scraped the floor. The blade sliced through the air with a whistle.
add atmosphere sound and little detail dont change anything your not co writer
Here's the version with added atmosphere, sounds, and little details—nothing else changed:
"Stop!"
A voice echoed in our heads—sharp, commanding, with authority. Lucian's magic crumbled into dust. The rocks shattered mid-air, raining down like gravel. Something interrupted the mana channel. Armin was mid-lunge, almost across the gap. His boots scraped the stone floor. The white-robed girl appeared—fast, silent. Her robes whispered against the ground. She tripped him, grabbed his sword hand, twisted it, kneed his stomach with a dull thud, and with a chop to his neck, Armin lay unconscious on the ground. His sword clattered beside him. The sound echoed off the walls.
Slowly, paladins of the New Holy Land surrounded the auction house. Armor clanked. Boots marched in unison. Shields bumped against hips. Some came inside and surrounded the guards who had surrounded us. Torches flickered. The crowd murmured in confusion. Chairs scraped.
"By the authority of the Priestess of the Blind Faith Goddess, this raid is the raid of the New Holy Land. No one will move," the white-robed girl said. Her voice carried through the hall. It echoed. Everyone froze. The only sounds were crackling torches and nervous breathing.
After that, the priestess took care of the auction house. Chains rattled as they were unlocked. Cages creaked open. Slaves were led out, blinking in the torchlight. We were saved because we stood up for a slave. The New Holy Land believes every creature—even a devil—is God's creation. Killing or enslaving any creature or living being is a crime to them. They don't discriminate between status, work, race, or power.
The priestess said, "So where will you go from here?" Her robes rustled as she turned toward me.
I said, "I will return to my home, obviously. What about you?"
"We are going to find the warehouse where they kept their slaves," she said.
"I know where it is," I said.
She looked at me. "Are you serious?"
I nodded. She looked calm, then said, "Then show us the way." Her voice was steady. Her veil fluttered slightly.
When I showed them the way, I realized that Fang and Stella were still missing. I heard their struggle. Boots scuffling against stone. Muffled shouts.
"Let me go!" Fang said. His voice cracked.
"Let us go!" Stella said. Her voice was sharp, angry.
I turned toward them. It was them—the female knight from earlier at the shop. Her armor gleamed in the torchlight. Her sword was drawn. She approached the priestess and said, "Priestess, we found the thief who has been stealing money for the past two months, and those who were looking for slave traders."
She looked at me. She didn't recognize me at all. Is it because of this mask? The leather pressed against my face. The silver lines caught the light.
At the worst time, the mask slipped. It fell to the floor with a soft clatter.
The female knight moved, but this time I was faster. My Crimson Death sliced her blade like butter. Metal screeched. Sparks flew. Her sword clattered to the ground in two pieces. Her eyes went wide in recognition.
"That crimson blade with a gem in it... Is this the blade of the successor from the Noctar Empire?" Her voice was barely a whisper.
"Yeah, it is. I am Felix Roswald, spouse of Lilith Noctar, the Crown Princess of the Noctar Empire."
Every knight bowed. Armor creaked. The paladins bowed. Their cloaks brushed the floor.
"You're the kid who formed the treaty between races at the age of five? You're Felix Roswald?" The female knight's voice trembled.
"Yeah, that's me," I said. "Leave them. They're with me."
They freed Stella and Fang. Chains clinked as they fell away. When they were freed, Stella and Fang ran beside me. Their footsteps echoed on the stone.
Stella stared. "Wow, I didn't know you were some big shot." Her voice was half surprised, half amused.
"Shut up," I said. The torchlight flickered across my face.
Then came the reunion. The female white tiger—Fang's sister—came barefoot. Her small feet padded softly on the cold stone. They must have healed her. Her fur was clean. Her ears were perked. With small steps, she walked toward Fang and hugged him. Her arms wrapped around his neck. He didn't cry in front of her. His jaw tightened. His arms held her close. For the first time, I saw a genuine smile on Fang's face. It was small. But it was there. The torches crackled around them.
I turned toward the priestess and said, "By the way, what's your name?"
She stammered and turned around. Her robes swished. That's strange. Did I do something wrong? Her veil caught the light. A soft breeze from nowhere stirred it.
She said, "My name is Cel—I mean Sel—I mean Selena." Her voice was flustered, quiet.
Finally, after settling everything, Lucian teleported us to the Roswald mansion. The air shimmered. The world blurred. A loud rush filled my ears. Then silence. The grand hall of the mansion stretched before us. Lucian also gave shelter to every slave in his World Tree replica territory. Since the slaves had no place to go, they could start from zero there. The doors opened. Slaves walked through, blinking in the new light.
And about the female vampire—they handed her to me, and she became my maid. My personal maid. Her footsteps were silent. Her eyes were red. Along with a guard. I got Stella as my guard. She stood beside me, arms crossed.
Ah, why did I put that slave mark on her?
I was walking down the grand hall of the Roswald mansion when I felt it. The marble floor gleamed. My boots echoed. Candles flickered in their sconces. Did I forget something? Or someone?
I stopped. Thought about it. The silence stretched. Nothing came to mind. The candles crackled softly.
Shrug. Probably nothing important.
Later that night...
I was sitting in my room, reading a book, when Stella burst through the door. It slammed against the wall with a bang. The candles flickered wildly.
"Felix!" she yelled.
"What? What happened?" I set the book down. The pages rustled.
She stared at me with wide eyes. "Where is Armin?"
I blinked. "Armin? He's... he's..."
I thought about it. The auction house. The fight. The paladins. The teleport. The memory came back slowly, like pieces of a puzzle.
"Wait," I said slowly. "Did we bring him?"
"No!" Stella shouted. Her voice echoed off the walls. "We left him! He was knocked out on the floor of the auction house! Remember? The white-robed girl chopped him!" She gestured with her hands. Her sleeves flapped.
My blood went cold. A chill ran down my spine.
"Oh no."
"Oh no? That's all you have to say? Oh no?" Her voice rose higher. Her boots tapped impatiently on the floor.
"I thought he was with you!" I said. I stood up. The chair scraped against the floor.
"I thought he was with Lucian!" she shot back.
"Lucian thought he was with me!"
We stared at each other in panic. The clock on the wall ticked loudly. Candles flickered. Silence stretched between us.
"Where is he now?" I asked.
"How should I know? Still unconscious on the auction house floor? Waking up to a bunch of confused paladins? Getting arrested for being a suspicious swordsman?" Stella paced back and forth. Her boots clicked against the marble.
I ran my hands through my hair. It rustled. "Okay, okay. Calm down. I'll send a message to the priestess. She'll find him."
"Find him?" Stella's voice went higher. "He's probably wandering the streets right now, sword in hand, completely lost, wondering why everyone abandoned him!" Her hands flailed.
I winced. "That's... that's a fair point."
"We left him, Felix. We left our friend behind. Knocked out. On the floor. In a city we don't know." Her voice cracked slightly.
I sighed. The air left my lungs slowly. "Okay. I'll fix this. I'll teleport back right now." I reached for my cloak.
Just then, the door slammed open again. The wood hit the wall with a crash. Lucian walked in, looking annoyed. His robes swished. His staff tapped against the floor.
"Felix," he said flatly. "Why did I just get a message from the New Holy Land asking if we forgot someone?"
I opened my mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. The candles flickered. My heart thumped in my chest.
"...Was it Armin?"
"Yes, it was Armin!" Lucian snapped. "He woke up surrounded by paladins, drew his sword in confusion, and nearly started a diplomatic incident!" His voice echoed. His staff hit the floor with a thud.
Stella burst out laughing. The sound bounced off the walls.
"It's not funny!" Lucian said.
But Stella couldn't stop. She was doubled over, tears in her eyes. Her laughter filled the room. The candles trembled.
"Imagine," she wheezed, "imagine waking up from a nap and finding out your friends left you behind to become a fugitive in a foreign city!" She wiped her eyes.
I put my face in my hands. My fingers pressed against my forehead. The leather of my gloves creaked.
Lucian sighed. His shoulders dropped. "I already sent someone to pick him up. He'll be here in an hour. But Felix?"
"Yes?" I lifted my head.
"Next time you go on a mission, take a headcount before you leave." He pointed at me with his staff.
I nodded, embarrassed. My cheeks burned.
Stella was still laughing. Her giggles echoed.
"Shut up," I muttered.
"You forgot Armin!" she howled. "You literally forgot our friend! He was with us the whole time and you just—left him!" She bent over again.
"I said shut up!"
It was going to be a long hour. The clock ticked. The candles crackled. Stella's laughter faded to chuckles.
Thirty minutes later, Armin walked into the mansion, covered in dust, his clothes torn, looking utterly miserable. His boots scuffed against the floor. He had dirt on his face. His sword was missing.
"Hello," he said flatly. "Nice to see everyone remembered me."
"Armin!" I said. "I am so sorry—" I walked toward him.
"Sorry?" He raised an eyebrow. Dust fell from his hair. "You know what I woke up to? A paladin poking me with a spear, saying, 'Are you with the people who caused the riot?' I had to explain that I was just unconscious and nobody told me we were leaving!" His voice was tired. His hands were empty.
Stella snorted.
"Don't. Even." Armin pointed at her. His finger shook slightly. "I heard you laughing. You didn't remember me either."
"I was tied up!" she defended. Her hands went to her hips. "I had an excuse!"
"And what's Felix's excuse?" Armin turned to me. His eyes were sharp.
I opened my mouth—but nothing came out. The silence stretched. A clock ticked somewhere.
Armin shook his head. Dust fell from his shoulders. "I was knocked out, alone, confused, and broke. I had to borrow money from a priestess to get a carriage here." He pulled out a small coin purse. It clinked.
"Wait," Stella said. Her eyes widened. "You met the white-robed girl again?"
"Yeah, she was very nice. Very polite. Very confused about why I was lying on the floor with no one around." He tossed the purse and caught it. It jingled.
Stella laughed again. Her voice echoed.
Armin sighed. "I hate all of you." But there was a small smile tugging at his lips.
"Come on," I said, putting a hand on his shoulder. My palm pressed against his dusty cloak. "Let me buy you dinner. A really expensive dinner. My treat."
"Fine," he muttered. "But I'm ordering the most expensive thing on the menu."
"You deserve it."
"And I'm never going on a mission with you again."
"Fair."
We walked toward the dining hall. Our footsteps echoed. The grand hall stretched before us. Candles flickered. Stella was still chuckling. Armin was grumbling. Lucian was shaking his head. His staff tapped softly.
And behind us, I heard the new vampire maid whisper to Stella, "Did... did he really forget him?" Her voice was soft, curious.
Stella whispered back, "Yes. Yes, he did." A giggle escaped her.
They both laughed.
The candles flickered. The sound of laughter filled the mansion.
This was going to be a long night.
name this "So here is the plan," Armin said. His voice was low — the alley swallowed sound well, but old habits. He drew a rough shape in the dirt with his boot. "We divide into two teams. One goes with Fang from the way he usually comes in. The second team enters from the front and creates a distraction. When the slave mark is put on Stella, we finish them." Stella stared at him. The alley was quiet except for the distant sound of the city settling into evening — cart wheels on stone somewhere nearby, voices carrying from a window above us. "You call that a plan?" she said. "We will be outnumbered. And wouldn't they be suspicious? We're walking in carrying swords." Armin considered this for approximately one second. "Then how about this," he said. "Felix takes Stella's sword. Ties her hands. Goes in with her as a buyer. Fang and I go in from the back and get his sister." Stella was quiet fo
The Alley Plan
"So here is the plan," Armin said.
His voice was low — the alley swallowed sound well, but old habits died hard. He drew a rough shape in the dirt with his boot, the lines sharp and deliberate.
"We divide into two teams. One goes with Fang from the way he usually comes in. The second team enters from the front and creates a distraction. When the slave mark is put on Stella, we finish them."
Stella stared at him.
The alley was quiet except for the distant sound of the city settling into evening — cart wheels grinding against stone somewhere nearby, voices drifting from an open window above us, the occasional clatter of a pot being set down. A dog barked in the distance. Somewhere, a door creaked shut.
"You call that a plan?" she said, crossing her arms. "We will be outnumbered. And wouldn't they be suspicious? We're walking in carrying swords."
Armin considered this for approximately one second. His jaw tightened. He looked at the swords at their hips — Stella's long blade, Armin's own, the way they caught the fading light filtering down from the street above.
"Then how about this," he said, turning to me. "Felix takes Stella's sword. Ties her hands. Goes in with her as a buyer. Fang and I go in from the back and get his sister."
Stella was quiet for a moment. The wind picked up, carrying the smell of bread from a nearby bakery. Somewhere above, a woman laughed. A child's voice called out, then faded.
She looked at me. Then at Armin. Then back at me.
"That's... actually not terrible," she admitted. A small smile tugged at her lips. "I hate when you have good ideas."
Armin smirked. "I'll try to have worse ones next time."
Fang stood apart from us, his back against the cold stone wall. His ears were flat. His eyes were fixed on the ground. He clutched the coin Armin had given him — still pressed tight in his small palm.
"Fang," Armin said, his voice softer now. "You show me where the crack is in the back wall. The side door. Everything you told us. You lead the way."
Fang looked up slowly. His eyes were glassy, but he nodded. One short, sharp nod.
"Okay," he whispered. "I can do that."
Stella stepped closer and crouched down to his level. Her voice was gentle — I rarely heard her like this. "We're going to get her. You hear me? We're not leaving without her."
Fang swallowed hard. His jaw trembled. But he nodded again.
"Good," Armin said. He straightened up and looked at the sky — the orange glow of sunset was fading into deep purple. The first stars were beginning to appear. "We move at dusk. That gives us maybe an hour to get ready."
He paused, then added, "Until then — enjoy. Relax. Eat something. You're going to need it."