Claus and Elizabeth had already been on board the ship for over an hour. Guests poured in by the dozens, in an almost surreal frenzy. Claus, however, remained perplexed. How could an underground sale attract so many people? To him, it all just looked like a regular rich people's ball. They simply greeted, smiled, listened to the music. Nothing more.
And Claus hated everything that felt too normal.
It was two in the morning when a waiter approached them.
"Are you the Brauses?" he asked politely.
Claus and Elizabeth exchanged a glance. They had already identified Gordon in his cover role. He played the part of a waiter perfectly.
"Of course," Elizabeth replied.
Without another word, the waiter gestured for them to follow. Other couples were also approached by staff members and were all guided toward a large door at the back of the main deck. Around twenty guests were selected this way.
Inside, dim lighting revealed a vast reception hall. Each pair had to find their table, the number printed on their black invitation letter. Claus and Elizabeth sat at table number six, directly facing a large podium. Everything gave the impression that a performance was about to begin. As expected, table twelve was occupied by their target.
Alfred Blakroks.
The man was slim, dressed entirely in white—from his mask to his three-piece suit, down to his shoes. He sat calmly and turned his head in their direction. His eyes briefly landed on Elizabeth… but then met Claus's, hidden behind his red band.
For an instant, time seemed to freeze. A chill ran down Claus's spine.
A vision. Brief, brutal.
He stood motionless, as if struck by an invisible horror. Elizabeth noticed but said nothing. Neither did Claus.
A masked man then walked onto the stage. His red mask, shaped like a Japanese demon, contrasted with his long black hair falling freely over his shoulders. His voice was clear, composed, theatrical.
"My dear friends, once again, we are gathered to share our common passion…"
He stretched out his arms with elegance, capturing the attention of the whole room.
"For our new guests, I am 'K', your host this evening. My role is simple: to guide you on the path of the mythic era. What you will see tonight is, as always, unique. Every artifact we present carries a story, a power, a mystery."
At those words, a woman emerged from backstage, pulling aside a large red curtain. Behind it, ten display cases appeared, each resting on a rolling cart. Inside each case, an artifact.
"To begin," said 'K', "our first item comes from a distant continent… a katana."
The woman pushed the cart forward. The weapon, still sheathed, had a unique style, far removed from traditional swords familiar to the Western eye. The audience was immediately fascinated.
"I see some of you recognize it," 'K' continued. "This blade belonged to a legendary warrior—the very one who repelled our best troops during the continental war. It is said that every soul it claimed still dwells within the blade… including its wielder's own. Be cautious. If you are not worthy, it may well possess you. It grants the strength of a hundred thousand men."
A murmur spread through the room.
"Starting price: one hundred million pounds."
"One hundred and ten million," called a raspy voice from the back. A man with a military air.
"One hundred and ten million for the gentleman in the back. Do I hear more?"
"Two hundred million."
It was Alfred Blakroks. Unsurprising. This refined collector had an obsession with artifacts tied to gods, ancient cultures, and forgotten mysteries.
"Two hundred million once… twice…"
"Two hundred and fifty million," Claus said calmly, raising his hand.
"What are you doing, Claus?" Elizabeth whispered. "We're not here for that…"
"Don't worry. I've got it."
"Two hundred and fifty million! Going once, going twice… Sold! Congratulations to our golden-haired gentleman."
Alfred turned his head toward Claus and gave him a discreet nod—a gesture of respect. But Claus did not respond. This wasn't a game. It wasn't about competition.
It wasn't even about the sword.
"When our eyes met… I had a vision," he said in a low voice.
"A vision?" Elizabeth repeated.
"Since my awakening, some visions pass through my mind. I don't know if they all come true… but when Jack attacked us, I saw it seconds before it happened. And just now…"
He paused, his expression darkening.
"I saw you die, Elizabeth. You were facing Alfred. He was holding that katana. We were dressed exactly like this. It was at his estate."
Elizabeth tensed.
"You never told me the details of those visions."
"I thought they were just tied to my awakening. Simple hallucinations… But they're getting more precise."
"We'll talk about it later. Focus on the mission. Stay alert."
Time passed. One by one, the relics were unveiled, then sold at extravagant prices. Yet nothing disturbed Claus as much as what he saw next.
A grimoire.
Almost identical to the one from his visions.
The one haunting the pages of the notebook.
His heart clenched violently.
Something, right then, had changed.