The golden light flickered. The pillars had crumbled to half their height, jagged edges of crystal and stone jutting out like broken teeth. Lucid stood on the narrowest ledge with Fenwick pressed against his side, both of them balanced on a space meant for one. Below them, nothing but golden mist. Above them, the Monolith of Commerce floated with its arms spread wide, its eyes measuring, its presence pressing down like a weight on the chest.
They had done it. They had bid so hard that they had forced the Monolith of Wealth to descend from its place above the Domain. It was almost comical when he thought about it. He had come to Port Vexis for a simple relic, a straightforward mission, a quick in and out. Instead he had uncovered a cultist conspiracy, fought a crooked magistrate, and ended up in an auction against the richest people in the city while possessing almost nothing of value.
You had to give him some credit. Lucid had managed to stand toe to toe with people who owned entire districts, people who traded in human lives, people who had been playing this game for decades. All without a single coin from the queen's treasury.
It was certainly admirable. Not that anyone here would admit it.
The Monolith floated down further, settling into the center of the shattered pillars. Golden clouds swirled around its feet, thick as honey, bright as molten metal. Its eyes were not eyes in the way humans understood them. They were measuring instruments, glittering surfaces that reflected the light and seemed to weigh everything they touched. The golden features of its face were sharp and elegant, carved from light and shadow, beautiful in a way that felt cold and distant.
Lucid felt weary just looking at it. But this was not his first encounter with such beings. He had met a Monolith before, or something close to it. He had stood in the presence of power that dwarfed his own. That did not make this any easier.
"My brave subjects," the Monolith said. Its voice was smooth and deep, resonating from everywhere at once. "The relic is in my possession. I shall raise the stakes."
It brought its hand forward in a slow, deliberate motion.
The pillars shattered. Half of them crumbled into golden dust that swirled upward and disappeared into the void. The remaining pillars cracked and tilted, their surfaces spiderwebbed with fractures.
But the participants stood.
[Integrity at five percent]
The system voice announced it flatly, without emotion, without concern. Five percent. The platform was collapsing beneath them.
Fenwick fell. His legs gave out and he pitched forward, arms flailing, face pale with terror. Lucid lunged and caught him just before he slipped over the edge. His hand closed around Fenwick's arm, gripping tight enough to bruise. The nobleman's other hand found the pillar, fingers scraping against the cracked surface.
Lucid hauled them both back up. The pillar was tilted at a dangerous angle, narrow and unstable. They could both stand on it if they pressed close together, but there was no room for error. One gust of wind, one wrong step, and they would fall into the golden mist below. The space was meant for a single person. But they had to make do.
The other participants stood on their own pillars. Celeste balanced with the grace of someone who had been trained since birth to never show weakness. The cultists knelt on their crimson platform, surrounded by the bodies of their sacrificed members. Valen stood with his hands in his pockets, his expression unreadable.
One of the cultist corpses tumbled through the golden sky. It spun slowly, arms and legs loose, blood still dripping from the wounds that had killed it. The Domain accepted the offering without comment.
Mercyros turned its gaze. The measuring eyes fixed on Lucid.
"Contestant one," the Monolith said. Its voice was formal, like a god addressing a mortal from a great distance. "I see you have offered very little in terms of material wealth, yet your contributions carry a weight that exceeds their apparent value. Despite holding no significant standing in the hierarchies of commerce or nobility, you have demonstrated a wisdom that belies your station."
The words echoed through the golden space. The very air seemed to tremble.
"What do you offer?"
Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock.
Time was passing. Lucid could feel it slipping away, each second a coin falling from his hand. The Monolith's voice reverberated through the Domain, through the pillars, through his bones.
Valen looked at Lucid. His golden eyes were calm, but something moved beneath the surface. He waved his hand. A small object arced through the air.
Lucid caught it. The relic. The false one he had won earlier in the auction. The Heart of the Forgotten Covenant. It was warm in his palm, pulsing with a faint golden light.
He threw it into the air. The relic dissolved, transforming into blue shimmering platinum marks that swirled around him like a small tornado. It was not a diamond. It was not enough to match the Monolith's offer. But it was enough to tip the scales.
"I offer this!" Lucid shouted.
[Party One is leading]
The system voice announced it with the same flat tone, but something in the Domain shifted. The golden light brightened. The pillars steadied slightly.
Mercyros looked at Lucid. Its measuring eyes seemed to narrow, though it had no eyelids to narrow.
"Interesting," the Monolith said. "I offer the Lyre of Wealth."
[The Lyre of Wealth. Estimated value. Ten diamond marks]
A bright light enveloped the area. A radiant presence materialized in the air above the Monolith's head. It was beautiful in the way that lightning was beautiful, in the way that a blade was beautiful, in the way that something dangerous and perfect and utterly beyond human reach could be called beautiful.
"You are kidding," Valen whispered. His voice cracked slightly. The nonchalant mask slipped for just a moment, revealing something raw underneath.
Celeste laughed. It was an ugly sound, broken and crooked, the laugh of someone who had just realized they had lost everything and could not find the words to express what that meant.
The cultists remained still. Their purple robes were soaked with blood. Their faces were pale and smooth and wrong, purple hair falling across foreheads that seemed too perfect, too still.
Fenwick's eyes went wide. His mouth opened and closed like a fish pulled from water.
[Party Zero. Mercyros is leading]
"Wait!" someone shouted. Lucid was not sure who.
"The flow of commerce does not wait for anyone, my subject," Mercyros intoned. Its voice was patient, almost kind, in the way that a guillotine was kind. "You have thirty seconds remaining."
A bet had been placed that put everyone just above the edge of elimination. This was a sure way to lose. One hundred gold was feasible. A platinum mark was difficult but not impossible. Two diamond marks was hard, the kind of wealth that took generations to accumulate. But ten diamond marks. Ten was something that outmatched nobility entirely. Ten was the kind of wealth that bought kingdoms and crushed rebellions and made the very concept of competition seem like a cruel joke.
They had to react. And fast.
Celeste yelled across the golden void. "Everyone, let us merge assets!"
Valen's composure cracked. His face twisted with rage, his golden eyes burning. "Like hell I would merge with the likes of you, you vile excuse for a human being!"
Everyone had conflicting ideologies and views. Celeste wanted power. Valen wanted revenge. The cultists wanted something Lucid did not understand and did not want to understand. Merging was not simple. Merging required trust, and there was no trust here. Only desperation.
Lucid had to think.
[Twenty seconds]
Celeste turned to Valen. Her voice was sharp, almost pleading. "I betrayed you not out of spite. I had a reason. If we do not react, we will all perish."
Valen stepped forward on his pillar, his hands clenched into fists. "Oh really? Tell that to the children that burned inside that foster home in the slums. Tell that to the eight dead bodies they pulled out of the river. Tell that to the crushed businesses in the western district that your people destroyed." His voice rose, cracking with anger. "After all that, you think I will work with you? You think I will just abandon what I originally set out to do?"
He spat onto the golden platform.
"You are in deep shit now, and I would be more than happy to perish with you!"
Celeste's composure cracked. Her white hair was disheveled, her face flushed, her hands shaking. "You are not a fool. Try to be rational. I merely funded these people. I was not aware of the acts they were committing."
Lucid watched them bicker. They had history, unspoken history. He remembered something about a generous scoundrel who had lost something, who had angered a noble house and paid a terrible price. He shook his head. He did not care about their history. He did not have time to care.
The cultist leader turned its head. The purple hood shifted, revealing features that made Lucid's stomach turn. Purple hair that seemed to move on its own, pale skin with a sickly purple tint, eyes that were too bright and too empty at the same time. The thing smiled. Its teeth were too white, too straight, too perfect.
[Fifteen seconds remaining]
"Lucid," the cultist leader said. Its voice was soft and wet, like something speaking from the bottom of a shallow grave. "Our motives serve your goal. Let us help you."
The purple figures knelt in front of the piled bodies of their sacrificed members. Blood pooled around their knees. They did not seem to notice.
"You are our martyr. Our savior. Our prophet." The cultist leader's voice grew more fervent, more sickening. "We have unconditional love toward our prophet. Toward our savior. Therefore we love you unconditionally, Lucid. No. We love both of you. Let us save you."
Lucid laughed. The sound surprised him. It was not a happy laugh. It was the laugh of someone who had seen too much and could not find another way to express what he felt.
Haha.
He chuckled. Everyone was derailing toward insanity. The magistrate was crumbling, her fragility showing through the cracks in her armor. The cultists were vile and sickening, offering love like a weapon. Valen was barely containing his rage, lashing out at anyone who came close. Fenwick was trembling beside him, too scared to speak, too scared to move.
Why was he joking these people into oblivion? He had better things to do.
"I cannot believe I am involved in this mess again," he muttered. "Shit."
He thought of Karmen, who had sent him on this mission. Ayame, who followed him everywhere with her dark eyes and her steady presence. Neptune, the cleaning, Elara and her schemes.
Why was he always involved in other people's problems?
He sat down on the narrow pillar. The golden light washed over him.
[Five seconds remaining]
Fenwick shook his shoulders. His face was pale, his eyes wide with terror, his hands gripping Lucid's arm with desperate strength.
"Do something," Fenwick pleaded. His voice was high and thin, the voice of a man who had spent his whole life avoiding danger and had just realized there was no escape. "Please. Do something. Or we will lose."