A week had passed since Elara's visit, and the tale of Solace's sword had spread not just through whispers, but through awe. Rumors traveled on wind and mana, drawing attention and trepidation from distant realms. Now, under vaulted ceilings adorned with crystalline chandeliers, the royal auction hall hummed in quiet anticipation.
It just so happened to coincide with Ithmar's annual grand auction—a prestigious event where kingdoms traded goods, alliances, and power. Tonight, it would serve as the stage for something more.
Solace entered the hall—maskless, deliberate and composed. Paths parted before him as he strode through.
He approached the auction master, an elder with eyes like chipped jade, seated behind a polished oak desk.
"I'll be placing four Relic-grade weapons on the auction tonight. These are genuine crafted by me. When you announce them, be sure to mention the name 'Solace.' Do me this courtesy."
The old man nodded slowly, betraying the slightest tremor of respect—and maybe fear.
"I understand… Solace. Very well. Your name shall be known as the creator."
With that, Solace turned and departed. In his wake, eyes burned—wonder, fear, reverence. He allowed a small, satisfied smile to form. Everything had begun to move exactly as intended.
He spent the next hours wandering the palace gardens and city streets.
When the auction hour struck, Solace joined Aetheria, Gaia, and Princess Elara in the VIP gallery, overlooking the main hall.
Elara's voice trembled with awe.
"You even made Relic-grade weapons… and they aren't bound by legacy or lineage. They're… possibilities made physical."
Solace stretched into his seat, relaxed.
"Yes, I did. Quite… special, aren't I?"
Aetheria chuckled, a soft, shimmering sound.
"Indeed. The most special."
Elara's apprehension sharpened.
"Do you... realize what you've done? You're practically opening yourself to… everyone."
Solace's grin turned cool, calculating.
"Let them come. You won't be reading obituaries about me anytime soon."
He leaned closer, voice dropping.
"The last few who tried… fared poorly."
Then, conspiratorially—
"But don't tell anyone I said that."
Elara watched him, torn between admiration and dread.
Before she could reply, a booming voice resonated through the hall:
"Welcome, nobles and dignitaries, to Ithmar's Annual Grand Auction!"
With the opening announcement, the ceremony began.
Beneath the chandelier's glow, Solace watched the crowd rise. The auction block stood before the gathered nobility. The air thrummed like a living thing, every heartbeat in time with the great reveal to come.
Gaia watched him from his side, serene yet alert.
Aetheria sipped her mana-infused tea, eyes glinting with anticipation.
Solace inhaled deeply. The moment had come to set the world ablaze—not with flames, but with possibility.
The highest realms, the elite powers, the hidden watchers—they would see him now.
And chaos would rise.
---
The grand hall hushed as a lithe figure wrapped in silken robes glided onto the stage. Her eyes sparkled like night stars, and her voice carried the elegance of a song:
"Esteemed guests, nobles, and dignitaries of all races—welcome to this year's illustrious event. Behold the first item of the night!"
She swept her arm upward, revealing an Earth Grade spear, its shaft smooth and aura subtle but compelling.
"Starting bid: 200 Mana Stones. Increments of 50 Mana Stones."
The crowd erupted into excited chatter. Beings from all walks gathered—humans from distant kingdoms, elven dignitaries, statuesque demihumans, and silent dragons mingling in cautious truce—a fragile harmony born solely of this auction's respect.
"350 Mana Stones!"
A voice rang out.
Elara gasped—recognizing the voice.
That belonged to Princess Lysindra of the Darkwood Elves—long known for her acumen and formidable nature. Her voice carried a quiet elegance but sharp intent.
"400 Mana Stones!"
A young dragon's gravelly voice replied—impatient, ambitious.
The bidding war swelled 500… 800… the tension taut until finally:
"Sold! The Eredia Kingdom pumps the final bid: 2,000 Mana Stones!"
The spear changed hands. The crowd murmured, some relieved, others wound tighter.
Later during the auction, all attention turned to the main stage once more.
"And now… ladies and gentlemen, rumors have been circling. We now begin the auction of four Relic-grade weapons. Untethered by legacy. Forged by one man—Solace, a citizen of the Ithmar Kingdom. For those interested, orders may be placed directly with him."
Gasps. Eyes widened.
Aetheria lingered, tea forgotten in her hand. Gaia tensed, senses alert.
The elegantly curvaceous auctioneer continued:
"Presenting the first of the Relics: The Bow of Refract. Starting bid: 50,000 Mana Stones. Bidding increments: 10,000 Mana Stones."
Silence fell—stunning and alive.
From the gathered elites, fingers flew.
"60,000!"
A tall demihuman noble offered, voice full of curiosity.
An Imperial Ambassador from the southern isles raised his own.
"80,000!"
Bids rose, faster and faster, each new figure lifting the stakes.
Then:
"120,000 Mana Stones!"
The voice was deep.
The crowd parted for a moment.
A young dragon princess—scales pearl-gray and wings tucked—stood proud.
"I bid 120,000," she declared.
A hush followed.
No higher bid came.
When the hammer fell:
"Sold! To the Dragon Princess for 120,000 Mana Stones!"
The crowd roared in both envy and admiration.
The auctioneer's voice rang clearly once more, barely allowing the energy to settle.
"And now, onto the second relic—The Splitmoon Glaive. Its edge is honed with spatial law harmonics. Starting at 50,000 Mana Stones."
The crowd didn't hesitate this time.
"60,000!"
"70,000!"
"85,000!"
The weapon was eventually secured by a Dwarven General from the Ironback Mountains for 100,000 Mana Stones, his beard practically trembling with anticipation as he received the weapon with reverence.
Next came the third:
"Now presenting, The Whisperfang Daggers—a pair forged with dream-silence alloy. They move with no sound and feed on fear. Starting bid: 50,000 Mana Stones."
An Elven assassin from the Verdant Vale won them for 95,000 Mana Stones, vanishing into shadows immediately after the trade.
And then… the last.
"The final relic of the night: The Crownpiercer Halberd. Its pole forged from Starwood and imbued with thunder-melded alloys. Starting bid: 50,000."
This one drew attention from a high-ranking noble of a distant Beastkin Empire, and the final price climbed to 115,000 Mana Stones, closed with thunderous applause.
As the final weapon disappeared from the stage and the crowd began murmuring with rising excitement, Solace rose from his seat in the VIP balcony.
He gave Elara a nod, Aetheria a charming smirk, and Gaia a knowing glance.
"Let the storm come. I've lit the flame."
Without another word, he turned and walked out.
People parted in silence. None dared stop him.
No mask. No cloak.
Only Solace.
Now a name known by every power watching.
And every hunter waiting.