Chapter 49: Chapter 49 – The Night of Broken Masks

The underground city never slept.

It breathed.

It whispered.

It watched.

Hidden beneath the sprawling districts of the Solaris Empire’s capital, beneath noble estates, merchant districts, and crowded marketplaces, existed another world entirely. A world built in forgotten tunnels, abandoned caverns, and ancient ruins older than the empire itself.

A world where laws became suggestions.

A world where fortunes changed hands overnight.

A world where powerful people came wearing masks.

And tonight, Etherius Draven Sinclair intended to acquire something from the Underground City under Sinclair’s Domain.

The moment he and Nysera stepped through the final checkpoint, the atmosphere changed.

The guards standing at the entrance weren’t ordinary soldiers.

Each one possessed at least Fourth Circle mana.

Some even approached Fifth Circle.

Their eyes remained hidden behind enchanted helmets while runic brands glowed across black armor.

One of them stopped a merchant attempting to enter.

The man immediately began sweating.

Etherius watched silently.

A moment later the guard grabbed the merchant by the collar and slammed him into the stone floor.

Several miniature wands clattered out from hidden compartments inside his coat.

The merchant tried protesting.

The guard simply punched him unconscious.

No arguments.

No trial.

No discussion.

The unconscious merchant was dragged away.

Nysera winced.

"Friendly place."

Etherius shrugged.

"They don’t want surprises."

"That wasn’t a surprise."

"To them it was."

The guards continued searching arrivals.

Daggers.

Poison needles.

Miniature spell catalysts.

Everything was confiscated.

Anyone resisting disappeared.

No one asked where.

No one wanted to know.

Etherius scanned the crowd with mana sense.

His awareness spread outward.

Hundreds of signatures entered his perception.

Most hovered around Fourth Circle.

Some Fifth Circle.

Very few higher.

His eyes narrowed.

Expected.

For ordinary people, Fourth or Fifth Circle represented a lifetime of achievement.

Most commoners never advanced beyond that point.

Many nobles never did either.

The path became increasingly difficult after every circle.

Resources.

Knowledge.

Talent.

Determination.

One missing piece was enough to halt progress forever.

Etherius silently observed the crowd.

Mercenaries.

Merchants.

Retired adventurers.

Minor nobles.

Criminal syndicates.

Everyone hidden behind masks.

Everyone pretending they weren’t someone important.

Everyone pretending they belonged.

Nysera nudged him.

"Stop staring."

"I’m observing."

"You’re judging."

"Same thing."

"It isn’t."

"It is."

Nysera rolled her eyes.

They entered the main hall.

The auction chamber resembled a theater.

Rows of seats descended toward a circular platform illuminated by magical lights.

Above, floating crystals drifted through darkness like artificial stars.

Private rooms overlooked the venue from higher levels.

The wealthiest bidders occupied those chambers.

Etherius took a seat.

Nysera sat beside him.

The hall gradually filled.

Conversation became a low murmur.

A sea of whispers.

Deals.

Threats.

Rumors.

Promises.

The language of ambitious people.

Nysera leaned closer.

"Still think this is a good idea?"

"No."

She blinked.

"No?"

"No."

"Then why are we here?"

"Because good ideas rarely change history."

Nysera groaned.

"There he is."

"Who?"

"The future tyrant."

Etherius smirked.

Before he could respond—

The lights dimmed.

The hall immediately fell silent.

Every conversation vanished.

Every eye shifted toward the platform.

A man wearing a silver mask walked forward.

His movements were practiced.

Confident.

Professional.

The host.

He spread his arms.

"Welcome."

His voice echoed through the chamber.

"To another evening of opportunity."

Polite applause followed.

The host bowed.

"As always, the rules remain simple."

His smile widened.

"Payment is immediate."

"All sales are final."

"No violence."

Everyone laughed.

Even Etherius.

Because everyone knew violence was inevitable.

The host continued.

"And finally..."

His gaze swept across the audience.

"No one leaves until the auction concludes."

The atmosphere grew slightly colder.

That rule mattered.

Because it prevented theft.

Prevented escape.

Prevented bidders from disappearing before payment.

The host clapped.

"Let’s begin."

The first item appeared.

A magical dagger.

Then enchanted armor.

Then a rare catalyst.

Then forbidden alchemy notes.

The bidding continued.

Hundreds of thousands exchanged hands.

Then millions.

Etherius barely paid attention.

None of it interested him.

He already knew what he needed.

The Seven Spirit Refined Elixir.

Everything else was irrelevant.

The auction continued.

Leaked noble spellbooks.

Ancient artifacts.

Monster cores.

Forbidden research.

The audience grew increasingly excited.

Nysera occasionally pointed things out.

Etherius ignored most of them.

Until—

The host’s smile changed.

The room sensed it immediately.

Excitement vanished.

Anticipation replaced it.

The host gestured dramatically.

"Next."

Several attendants carried forward a black velvet case.

Etherius frowned.

The host carefully opened it.

And the entire room stopped breathing.

Inside rested a crystal sphere.

Small.

Transparent.

Beautiful.

Ancient runes glowed beneath its surface.

Etherius felt his heart stop.

"No."

Nysera looked confused.

"What?"

Etherius stared.

The host raised the sphere.

"Stasis Orb."

Silence.

Then chaos.

The entire venue erupted.

Even the private rooms stirred.

Etherius couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

A Stasis Orb.

Here.

Impossible.

This hadn’t happened.

Not in his previous life.

Not in any memory.

Not in any record.

Stasis Orbs were ancient treasures.

Artifacts created by sorcerers from forgotten eras.

Their applications bordered on absurd.

They could store spells.

Preserve energy.

Maintain magical effects indefinitely.

But their greatest use...

Their true value...

Lay elsewhere.

Soul Scripts.

A Stasis Orb could contain fragments of a Soul Script.

Replicate abilities.

Preserve powers.

Even nations regulated them.

Every known orb was documented.

Tracked.

Monitored.

Entire wars had been fought over them.

Yet somehow...

One appeared here.

Nysera looked stunned.

"Is that real?"

Etherius answered immediately.

"Yes."

"How?"

"I have no idea."

The bidding started.

Five million.

Ten million.

Twenty million.

The numbers climbed instantly.

People stopped pretending.

Everyone wanted it.

Etherius joined.

For a while.

Thirty million.

Forty million.

Fifty million.

A masked figure opposite him immediately countered.

Sixty.

Seventy.

Eighty.

Etherius narrowed his eyes.

The other bidder never hesitated.

Wealth.

Influence.

Determination.

Dangerous.

The bidding surpassed one hundred million.

Etherius stopped.

Reluctantly.

Painfully.

Logically.

He simply couldn’t win.

Not now.

Not at this age.

Not without exposing himself.

The masked bidder eventually secured victory.

The hall buzzed with excitement.

Etherius leaned back.

Disappointed.

But not defeated.

If someone bought it...

Someone could be robbed.

Eventually.

He would discover their identity.

Track them.

Acquire the orb later.

Not ideal.

But acceptable.

The host raised his hammer.

"Sold—"

BOOM.

The world exploded.

Fire erupted from the rear of the venue.

Screams followed.

Stone shattered.

Blood sprayed.

Etherius moved instantly.

His chair vanished beneath him as he launched upward.

Another explosion.

Then another.

Five figures appeared.

Masked.

Armed.

Holding condensed mana spheres.

Etherius’ eyes widened.

Those weren’t ordinary weapons.

They should never have passed security.

Never.

Then realization struck.

Inside job.

The attackers rushed forward.

Chaos consumed the venue.

Nobles screamed.

Mercenaries drew weapons.

Guards charged.

The masked bidder holding the Stasis Orb immediately moved.

Fast.

Far too fast.

Soul Script energy erupted around him.

The entire room shook.

Someone shouted.

"Soul Script user!"

Panic intensified.

Etherius immediately changed direction.

This was opportunity.

Pure opportunity.

He moved toward the platform.

Toward the Stasis Orb.

Toward chaos.

Then—

Everything stopped.

Pressure descended.

Absolute.

Overwhelming.

Monstrous.

Etherius collapsed to one knee.

The entire hall followed.

Everyone.

Guards.

Nobles.

Mercenaries.

Attackers.

Even the Soul Script user.

The pressure crushed them.

Breathing became difficult.

Looking upward became impossible.

The atmosphere itself felt heavier.

Denser.

Terrifying.

Etherius recognized it instantly.

Celestial Saint.

A real one.

The difference between an awakened expert and a Celestial Saint resembled the difference between a candle and the sun.

A figure appeared.

No fanfare.

No announcement.

Just presence.

The Saint walked forward.

Took the Stasis Orb.

And vanished.

Like mist.

Gone.

Silence followed.

Then confusion.

Then chaos.

Again.

Etherius stood.

Barely.

Sweat covered his body.

Even after the pressure vanished.

His instincts screamed.

Run.

Hide.

Survive.

Instead—

He smiled.

Because everyone else focused on the Stasis Orb.

Meaning nobody remembered the item he actually wanted.

The Seven Spirit Refined Elixir.

Etherius moved.

Immediately.

Nysera grabbed his arm.

"Where are you going?"

"Treasure."

"Etherius."

"No time."

He punched through a damaged wall.

Stone exploded outward.

Nysera cursed and followed.

The storage district lay beyond.

Private warehouses.

Reserved goods.

Future auction lots.

Everything hidden from public view.

Etherius sprinted through corridors.

Past collapsed shelves.

Past fleeing guards.

Past panicking merchants.

His memories guided him.

Left.

Right.

Down.

Through another wall.

There.

A reinforced vault.

Etherius smiled.

"Found it."

He smashed the lock.

Inside rested dozens of treasures.

But his eyes immediately found one specific case.

Silver.

Runic.

Sealed.

The Seven Spirit Refined Elixir.

Exactly where it should be.

He grabbed it.

Victory.

Finally.

After everything.

Success.

Then—

Clap.

Clap.

Clap.

Slow applause echoed behind him.

Etherius froze.

Nysera’s expression darkened.

Several figures stood in the corridor.

Armed.

Dangerous.

Watching.

One stepped forward.

A man wearing a crimson mask.

Another carried twin axes.

A third held a staff.

More emerged from the shadows.

Too many.

Far too many.

The crimson-masked man laughed.

"Interesting."

His gaze settled on the elixir.

"I believe that belongs to us."

Etherius slowly turned.

Mana began circulating.

The corridor felt darker.

Smaller.

More dangerous.

Because for the first time tonight—

There would be no auction.

No guards.

No Celestial Saint.

No distractions.

Only survival.

The crimson mask tilted.

"You know..."

His voice became amused.

"You are either incredibly brave."

Or incredibly stupid."

Etherius smiled beneath his mask.

A cold smile.

The smile of a regressor who had died once already.

"People say that a lot."

The corridor erupted with killing intent.

And the real battle finally began.