While the world leaders upstairs were sweating and signing away their fortunes to keep their secrets, Omar handed the management of the auction to Kaelen. He had something more urgent to attend to.
He descended the spiral stairs into the Dungeon Level. The air here was damp and smelled of ancient iron. In the furthest cell, Youssef sat on the floor, his eyes hollow now that his mana had been stripped away.
Laila was standing outside the bars, her back to Omar. She was staring at a small locket she had taken from Youssef's neck.
"Did he talk?" Omar asked, his footsteps echoing on the stone.
Laila didn't turn around. Her voice was trembling. "He didn't need to talk. This locket... it's not just a souvenir. It's a Memory-Crystal."
Omar walked up beside her. Inside the locket was a tiny, glowing shard. When Omar touched it with his [Merchant's Eye], a projection flickered in the air.
It showed a laboratory in Europe, fifteen years ago. A young Laila and a young Youssef were being experimented on. But the shocking part wasn't the pain—it was the man standing over them, holding a clipboard.
"That's Director Marouane," Omar whispered, recognizing the younger version of the man who was currently upstairs, pretending to be Earth's hero.
"It gets worse," Youssef croaked from the cell, lifting his head. "Look at the woman next to him, Omar."
The projection shifted. A woman with a kind face was adjusting the mana-flow to the children. She looked exactly like Omar's mother—the woman who supposedly died of poverty in a Marrakech alley years ago.
"My mother... was a scientist for the Shadow Market?" Omar's heart felt like it had stopped.
"She wasn't just a scientist," Youssef said, a bitter smile on his face. "She was the one who designed the interface you're using now. She didn't die of hunger, Omar. She was 'Liquidated' by the Architects because she tried to build a backdoor into the System—a backdoor that only someone with her bloodline could open."
Everything clicked. Why Omar was chosen. Why the System found him in that specific alley. Why he was able to "Uninstall" it so easily. It wasn't luck. It was a Legacy.
"Marouane sold her out," Laila said, her eyes burning with a cold, dark fury. "He gave her location to the Architects in exchange for the S-Rank power he has now. And now he's upstairs, drinking your tea and pretending to be your ally."
Omar felt a cold, black rage rising from his soul. His shadow began to grow, stretching across the walls of the dungeon, flickering with golden sparks.
[Warning: Emotional Resonance exceeding safety limits!]
[The Emporium's Core is reacting to Host's Rage.]
[New Objective: Revenge.]
"Omar, wait!" Laila grabbed his arm. "If you kill him now, in front of all those leaders, the world will turn against you. You'll be labeled a tyrant."
Omar looked at the projection of his mother, then at his hands. "I've spent my life carrying other people's bags, Laila. I've been a porter, a merchant, and a savior. But there's one thing I haven't been yet."
"What's that?"
"The Debt Collector."
Omar turned around and headed back toward the stairs. "Kaelen! Close the doors to the Auction Hall. Nobody leaves until the 'Special Item' is revealed."
In the Grand Hall:
Director Marouane was laughing with a European diplomat, feeling relieved that his "secrets" were safe. Suddenly, the lights dimmed. The gold-leafed walls turned into a dark, reflective obsidian.
Omar stepped onto the stage, but he wasn't smiling. He held the Memory-Crystal in his hand, and the giant holographic screens behind him flickered to life.
"Ladies and Gentlemen," Omar's voice was like a blade. "The auction is over. Now, we're going to talk about a debt that's fifteen years overdue. And Director Marouane... you're the one who's going to pay the interest."