Starting With an SSS-Rank Goddess Summon!

He snapped his fingers, conjuring a tiny spark of green wind mana to ignite the tip, and drew a long deep breath of the fragrant smoke.

He exhaled a thick, drifting cloud of blue haze toward the ceiling, crossing his arms behind his head while resting his heavy boots firmly upon the trembling girl’s spine.

"My family commands the combined financial supremacy of the Blackwood Consortium and House Thorne," Cedric sneered, looking down through the glass with supreme arrogance. "We possess more liquid Spirit Credits than thirty lower districts combined... I will bid on whatever catches my eye, whenever I please, and my father will settle the ledger without a second thought so let the commoners watch how a true sovereign spends."

Across the vast echoing expanse of the amphitheater, suspended high on the eastern wall in VIP Suite Seven, the atmosphere was different.

The massive soundproofed iron doors of the suite remained firmly sealed, while Reginald stood outside in the corridor like an unyielding shadow, his hands clasped behind his back as his sharp senses locked down the entire eastern hallway.

Inside the suite, Silas sat dead center on the enormous, curved emerald-leather sectional.

He was still draped in the heavy flowing black velvet cloak of House Whitmore, though he had tilted the obsidian crow mask upward so that it rested comfortably atop his dark messy hair.

His rugged jawline was relaxed, his broad shoulders resting back against the plush cushions as his deep blue golden-ringed eyes swept across the multi-tiered colosseum below.

Suddenly, the soft luxurious rustle of enchanted phoenix silk cut through the quiet sound of the suite’s ventilation.

Before Silas could even blink, Seraphina glided gracefully around the mahogany coffee table.

Without a single word of warning, the crimson-haired heiress turned around, gathered her voluminous skirts, and deliberately sat down directly on Silas’s lap.

FLUMP!

Silas’s entire body went rigid.

His breath hitched in his throat as two hundred pounds of pure muscle instinctively locked up.

Seraphina settled herself snugly between his thighs, leaning her entire upper back against his broad chest.

The radiant heat of her ancestral core radiated straight through the enchanted fabric of her crimson gown, warming his torso like an open hearth.

The rich intoxicating fragrance of crushed night-blooming jasmine and sweet vanilla rolled over his senses in an intoxicating wave.

She let out a soft unapologetic sigh of contentment, tilting her head back against his muscular shoulder.

Her long vibrant crimson curls spilled across his collarbone, brushing softly against his cheek.

"Ah..." Seraphina purred melodically, her long eyelashes fluttering shut as she reached down with her manicured fingers to rub the arch of her left foot through her sheer silk stockings. "My feet are positively throbbing with fatigue... We have been traversing this wretched metropolis since twelve o’clock this afternoon, and the marble flooring in that arcade lacked any semblance of shock absorption. As my designated prospective husband, it is only proper and natural that your frame serves as my primary resting cushion."

Silas sat completely paralyzed with his large hands hovering awkwardly in mid-air beside her slender corseted waist.

His left eye gave a violent involuntary twitch.

’Is this girl for real right now?’ Silas thought. ’There are literally three empty velvet armchairs, two chaise lounges, and an entire ten-foot leather couch in this room, and she chooses to park her noble ass directly on my kneecaps. I... don’t mind though.’

On the other side of the sofa, Harper’s head whipped around so fast her violet curls blurred.

Her glowing violet eyes dilated in pure, unadulterated, incandescent fury.

"GET OFF HIM, YOU SHAMELESS CRIMSON PARASITE!" Harper shrieked, lunging forward across the leather cushions with her hands curved like claws, bright purple sparks of static electricity visibly popping along the lapels of her black jacket. "Who authorized you to drop your royal backside onto his lap?! That is my territory! Move your ass right now, or I swear by the World Council I will discharge a hundred thousand volts straight through your tailbone!"

"I shall not move a single inch," Seraphina countered without even deigning to open her eyes.

She casually lifted one long, silk-clad leg and crossed it over the other atop Silas’s denim-clad thighs, deliberately nestling deeper into the crook of his neck.

"I established dominion over this seat first," Seraphina mocked smoothly as a small insufferably smug smirk playing at the corners of her glossed lips. "If you are so desperately starved for physical proximity, woman, you are entirely welcome to kneel upon the rug and rest your chin against my ankles."

"I WILL RIP YOUR EXPENSIVE EXTENSIONS OUT ONE BY ONE—"

"Harper. Seraphina. Calm down..." Silas commanded with his low voice vibrating straight through his chest and into Seraphina’s spine.

Both women froze instantly.

Silas let out a heavy soul-weary exhale, his hands finally descending to rest firmly against the sides of Seraphina’s hips to keep her from sliding around.

The touch caused the proud noblewoman’s porcelain skin to instantly erupt in a brilliant burning shade of pink, though she stubbornly refused to surrender her captured territory.

Down in the center of the arena below, the Chief Auctioneer raised his gold-headed gavel, bringing it down against the floating obsidian podium with a resounding bang.

"Lot Number One is officially concluded!" the auctioneer’s magically amplified voice reverberated through the amphitheater. "The Heart of the Thunder-Wyrm has been securely transferred to the holding vault corresponding to VIP Suite Twelve! As a reminder to all our esteemed patrons, all acquired items shall be held in private sealed retrieval chambers tagged with your specific suite numbers, accessible immediately upon the conclusion of tonight’s proceedings!"

The auctioneer raised his hands wide, his theatrical porcelain demon mask catching the harsh glare of the white spotlights.

"And now, honored delegates of the shadows... let us bring forth the second lot of the evening!"

From the depths of the stage’s subterranean hydraulic lift, a long horizontal display case lined with midnight-black velvet rose smoothly into the center of the arena.

Resting inside the case were a pair of slender curved katanas.

The blades were forged from a dark non-reflective obsidian-steel that seemed to actively devour the surrounding light.

The hilts were wrapped in the cured, scales of an abyssal shadow-serpent, and thin, wispy ribbons of shadowy mist continually bled from the razor-sharp edges, curling across the velvet cushions like living smoke.

"Lot Number Two!" the auctioneer announced with electric showmanship. "The Twin Phantoms of the Mist! A pair of Tier-2 Stealth Katanas recovered from an ancient hidden shinobi sanctuary deep within an Uncharted Rift Sector of the Sovereign Realm... These blades were traded to The Obsidian Sanhedrin by a high-ranking master from the Shadow Lotus Clan. They are permanently inscribed with dampening glyphs that completely erase all sound, vibration, and light reflection during high-speed swings, amplifying critical strike output by two hundred and fifty percent when striking from pure concealment!"

The auctioneer slammed his gavel.

"Bidding commences at a baseline of Three Million Spirit Credits! Increments of one hundred thousand! The floor is open!"

The moment the words left his mouth, Harper’s violet eyes ignited with raw hunger.

She sat bolt upright on the leather sofa, her entire body locking onto the display case.

As a high-mobility Lightning Lord whose combat style relied heavily on explosive speed, sudden flank maneuvers, and devastating close-quarters strikes, a pair of dual blades that completely erased sound and multiplied critical strike output was a dream weapon.

"Oh, those are exquisite," Harper whispered, her fingers practically vibrating with excitement as she hovered over the brass bidding terminal. "Those are coming home with me... I don’t care who I have to bankrupt."

It wasn’t like she was going to go bankrupt, even before this whole inheriting her Father’s business thing, Harper had hundreds of millions saved.

This would not be an issue after at all... which was why she was confident in paying for everything. Down on the floor, the bidding war erupted instantly.

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

[CURRENT BID: 3,400,000 SC - FLOOR TIER 2]

[CURRENT BID: 4,100,000 SC - FLOOR TIER 1]

[CURRENT BID: 5,500,000 SC - FLOOR TIER 3]

Across the amphitheater in VIP Suite Twelve, Cedric Blackwood casually tapped his console with the heavy heel of his boot, not even bothering to look down from the ceiling.

BZZZZT-CHUNK!

=========================================

[BID: VIP SUITE TWELVE]

CURRENT BID: 10,000,000 SPIRIT CREDITS

=========================================

Cedric let out a loud mocking laugh, exhaling a thick plume of cigar smoke as he ground his heels harder into the kneeling maid’s shoulders.

"Ten million," Cedric scoffed arrogantly. "Let the commoners choke on that... A pair of exotic ninja toys will look splendid mounted above the mantle in my secondary estate."

The lower-tier floor bidders groaned in bitter defeat, lowering their glowing transaction wands as the ten-million-credit barrier proved too steep for an entry-level Tier-2 weapon.

Harper, however, merely let out a dark wicked chuckle.

"Ten million? Cute." Harper grinned, her sharp canines flashing under the lights.

She didn’t touch the standard increment button.

Her slender fingers blurred across the numerical spatial grid of Suite Seven’s console, keying in a ruthless figure with pure malice.

BZZZZT-CHUNK!

=========================================

[BID: VIP SUITE SEVEN]

CURRENT BID: 20,000,000 SPIRIT CREDITS

=========================================

The entire amphitheater fell dead silent.

In Suite Twelve, Cedric choked violently on his cigar smoke.

He began coughing uncontrollably, his boots slipping off the maid’s head as he scrambled forward, nearly spilling his drink as he stared in disbelief at the glowing scoreboard.

"Twenty million?!" Cedric roared, his slicked-back blond hair falling messily over his forehead. "Who the hell drops twenty million on a pair of Tier-2 katanas?! Are they insane?!"

His pride stung, Cedric furiously hammered the console, entering 22,000,000 SC.

BZZZZT-CHUNK.

Before the numbers on the display could even settle, Suite Seven flashed instantly.

=========================================

[BID: VIP SUITE SEVEN]

CURRENT BID: 35,000,000 SPIRIT CREDITS

=========================================

Cedric’s jaw dropped open. His hand hovered over the console, trembling with pure fury.

Thirty-five million credits for Tier-2 stealth blades was madness.

To push higher would severely compromise his liquidity for the grand finale lot.

Down on the carpet, the kneeling maid subtly shifted her head with a tiny satisfying smirk dancing across her lips as she watched her arrogant master get thoroughly humiliated by Suite Seven.

BANG!

"Sold! To the sovereign delegates of VIP Suite Seven for Thirty-Five Million Spirit Credits!"

Harper threw both of her arms in the air, cackling wildly. "YES! Mine! That’s how a woman claims her steel!"

Silas looked at her, he looked very disgusted and she pinched his cheeks.

"You look so cute Silas~ Wanna kiss?"

Over the next two hours, the underground auction progressed into a relentless breathtaking spectacle of wealth and power.

Silas, Harper, and Seraphina watched with fascination as dozens of bizarre treasures crossed the circular red stage.

Not every item drew their interest, allowing the lower-tier syndicates and rival VIP suites to fight bitterly amongst themselves.

Lot Number Five... a sealed ceramic barrel containing fifty liters of Pure Wyrm-Marrow Elixir, capable of permanently increasing an awakened warrior’s bone density was claimed by a mercenary syndicate from the northern wastes for fourteen million credits.

Lot Number Eight... a set of four ancient Aero-Dynamic Flight Relics forged in the shape of mechanical falcon wings was snatched up by VIP Suite Four after a brutal bidding war that peaked at twenty-eight million credits.

Then, the mood in the amphitheater shifted dramatically as Lot Number Eleven was wheeled into the spotlight.

Resting inside a massive reinforced cylindrical containment vessel forged from enchanted poly-crystal and filled with swirling translucent liquid flame was a crimson orb roughly the size of a human skull.

Inside the orb, the roaring spectral silhouette of a miniature, four-winged fire chimera writhed in violent primeval fury.

The radiation leaking through the glass was so intense that the barrier around the circular stage visibly distorted and shimmered like a desert mirage.

"Lot Number Eleven!" the auctioneer projected, his voice booming with electric excitement. "The Primordial Will of the Blazing Chimera! A genuine Tier-3 Beast Will harvested from the core of an ancient rift beast in the Volcanic Trenches! For those unfamiliar with the ancient arts of beast binding... I’m here! A Beast Will is a dormant spiritual core. Upon infusing this relic with a massive volume of elemental mana, conquering its spiritual trial, and establishing soul resonance, the beast will awaken as a living permanent familiar bound directly to the user’s soul and core!"

The auctioneer raised his gavel high.

"Bidding commences at a baseline of Forty Million Spirit Credits! Increments of two million! The floor is open!"

The moment the description ended, Seraphina’s entire body went rigid on Silas’s lap.

Her crimson eyes, blazing with concentrated fire, locked onto the flaming chimera core with an intensity that seemed capable of melting the observation glass.

Her breath came in short rapid gasps with her fingers digging tightly into Silas’s denim-clad knees.

"That beast will..." Seraphina whispered, her melodic voice trembling with noble desire. "The purity of the flame... it is completely unblemished. If I infuse that core with my ancestral crimson flame and bond it to my Primordial Fire Spirit, the resulting familiar will possess destructive synchronization with my bloodline. The Spirit would amplify the chimera’s output, and the chimera would feed pure elemental fire back into my Spirit, creating an eternal loop of escalating flame. My core temperature could double. I must have it."

’Double...?’ Silas thought with sweat rushing down his face, her flames were hot enough already!

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