The hidden compartment above the main auction hall was a cramped, forgotten space barely large enough for two people to sit or stand. It had likely once been used for maintenance or surveillance decades ago, but now it was thick with dust and the faint metallic tang of old wiring. The walls were cold, unfinished metal panels patched with rust spots and faded warning stickers in multiple languages.

A single narrow ventilation grate allowed a thin slice of light and sound from below, while a small, perfectly positioned peephole — no wider than a finger — offered a direct view down into the heart of the auction floor. The floor of the compartment was uneven, scattered with old bolts, frayed cables, and a thin layer of grime that clung to their boots. The air was stale, warm from the lights below, and carried the distant murmur of voices rising like smoke.

Lian sat cross-legged in the center of the small space, back straight like a monk in deep meditation. His breathing was slow and controlled, each inhale pulling in the dusty air, each exhale releasing tension from his shoulders. He wore a simple but well-fitted dark gray traveler’s tunic made of durable synth-weave fabric that blended into shadows, the collar high and reinforced with subtle padding around the neck. The sleeves were long and loose, ending in tight cuffs that hid his scarred wrists. Over it, he had a lightweight black cloak with a deep hood, the hem frayed at the edges for a worn, unremarkable look. His pants were dark charcoal cargo style with multiple hidden pockets, tucked into scuffed but sturdy black boots reinforced at the toes and ankles for silent movement. A simple leather belt held his short hammer-blade, concealed beneath the cloak.

His mind, however, was far from peaceful.

He was thinking about the forbidden method — the Harvest Path.

He had not taken any parts from the Kraith. No eyes, no heart, no core fragment. There had been no safe place to store them without Elara noticing, and he was not ready to explain. Not yet. The whispers in his head had grown quieter since the second harvest, but they were still there, patient and waiting. He could feel the pull — the temptation to take more, to grow faster, to close the gap between himself and the white-eyed old man. But he held back. Root first, the old blacksmith had taught him. He repeated the words like a mantra as he meditated, trying to steady the hunger inside.

Elara stood a short distance away, her back resting lightly against the cold metal wall. She was calm, eyes closed, blade resting sheathed at her side. Her new outfit was practical yet elegant in its simplicity: a fitted dark navy tunic made of flexible reinforced fabric that allowed full range of motion, with subtle plating sewn into the shoulders and forearms for protection without restricting her alloy limbs. The tunic had a high collar and long sleeves that ended in reinforced cuffs. She wore slim black pants with reinforced knees and multiple concealed pockets, tucked into soft-soled boots designed for silent steps. Over everything, she had a lightweight charcoal cloak with a hood that could be pulled low. Her long black hair was tied back severely, revealing the elegant lines of her human face and the soft blue glow of her cybernetic eyes when they opened.

It had been so long since she had fought in earnest. Her mind wandered as she stood there — memories of the tournament ring, the plasma blade buried in her chest, the pain, the darkness, and then waking in the forge with Lian’s hand holding hers. She wondered how much longer they could keep running, how much longer she could stand beside him as the whispers grew louder in his head. She could sense them sometimes, faint echoes when he slept or meditated. She worried, but she stayed silent. For now.

Below them, the auction house was a spectacle of controlled opulence and hidden danger.

The main hall was vast — a circular chamber three stories high, with tiered seating arranged around a central raised stage. The walls were lined with dark polished stone veined with glowing blue crystals that pulsed softly, providing ambient light while hiding surveillance nodes. Ornate chandeliers made of floating precursor orbs hung from the ceiling, casting warm golden light mixed with shifting holographic displays that showed close-ups of items being auctioned. The floor of the stage was reinforced black marble, etched with containment runes to suppress any accidental Qi outbursts from the artifacts or bidders.

Private boxes lined the upper levels — luxurious rooms with one-way glass, plush seats, and personal attendants. Servants in crisp black uniforms moved silently between rows, offering drinks, data pads, and discreet communication devices. Hostesses — elegant Veyari women in flowing gowns with four arms — guided VIP guests to their seats, their voices smooth and professional as they explained bidding rules.

The guests were a dangerous mix of the galaxy’s elite and underworld.

Rich merchants in ornate robes haggled quietly. Hidden sect elders sat cloaked in shadow, their auras carefully suppressed. Corporate executives from major conglomerates occupied the best boxes, flanked by bodyguards in full combat augs. Bounty hunters and assassins lurked in the lower tiers, eyes sharp for opportunities. Slaves in energy cuffs were paraded occasionally as “living merchandise,” their eyes downcast. The air hummed with tension and greed.

Lian opened his eyes slowly.

He looked up at Elara.

“Are you ready?” he asked quietly. “Has the auction started?”

Elara opened her blue cyber eyes and glanced through the small peephole.

“No,” she replied, voice soft. “The guests are still arriving. The main event hasn’t begun yet.”

Lian stood up carefully, brushing dust from his cloak. He moved closer to her, positioning himself behind the small observation hole so he could look down into the hall.

The auction house continued to fill.

The guests settled into their seats.

The hostesses moved gracefully.

The servants prepared the first items.

And somewhere in that crowd of predators and collectors, clues about the white-eyed old man waited to be found.

Power Scale / Cultivation Realms (Quick Reminder)

Foundation Realm (Layers 1–9): Body forging, no external Qi.

Circuit Awakening Realm (Early–Peak): First Qi loop, internal bursts.

Core Condensation Realm (Early–Peak): External Qi release, short flight.

Stellar Circuit Realm (1–9 Stars): True flight, Qi armor, energy projection.

Nebula Dominion Realm and higher: Domain control, galaxy-level power, etc.