Starting With an SSS-Rank Goddess Summon!

"Then buy it, Princess," Silas said casually, his deep voice rumbling against her back. "You’ve got the card."

’As long as she doesn’t use it on me and doesn’t spend that much money... I’m okay...’

Seraphina didn’t hesitate for a single second.

She reached forward to the mahogany table, picked up the black executive card Reginald had provided, and tapped the terminal, entering a figure that made even Harper whistle in appreciation.

BZZZZT-CHUNK!

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

[BID: VIP SUITE SEVEN]

CURRENT BID: 100,000,000 SPIRIT CREDITS

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

The entire amphitheater collectively gasped.

Opening with a sixty-million-credit jump was a terrifying declaration of financial annihilation.

Across the arena in VIP Suite Twelve, Cedric Blackwood had just picked up his hand to enter a bid, intending to buy the chimera as a trophy.

But seeing the nine-figure hammer drop from Suite Seven, his hand froze mid-air.

His face turned a mottled,violent shade of scarlet as he hurled his crystal chalice across the room, shattering it against the dark-iron doors.

"Suite Seven AGAIN?!" Cedric shrieked, his voice cracking hysterically. "Are they stalking my bids?! Who the fuck is sitting in that booth?!"

Nobody on the floor dared challenge the hundred-million-credit barrier.

BANG!

"Sold! To VIP Suite Seven for One Hundred Million Spirit Credits!"

Seraphina settled back against Silas’s chest, letting out a soft triumphant purr of pure satisfaction.

"A magnificent acquisition... My mother will be thoroughly impressed."

Meanwhile Silas looked at her back with his face twitching through several expressions, he regretted coming here completely.

’Calm down Silas... Nobles... Nobles are different beings.’

Six lots later, Seraphina struck again.

When Lot Number Seventeen... a bespoke set of Ancient Void-Chrysolite Jewelry, consisting of two polished obsidian wrist cuffs and a heavy matching signet ring forged from indestructible abyssal alloy that passively accelerated internal mana recovery by thirty percent was displayed on the stage, Seraphina didn’t even blink.

’Mine.’

She casually dropped Fifty Million Spirit Credits to secure the set in a single bid.

Silas looked down at the top of her crimson head, raising an eyebrow.

"Black jewelry? That doesn’t match your red-and-gold noble aesthetic at all."

Seraphina turned her head slightly, looking up into his deep blue eyes through her long eyelashes as a radiant rosy blush sweeping across her porcelain cheeks.

"It is not for me, you oblivious brute," Seraphina mumbled, her voice dropping into a shy melodic whisper as she looked away. "It is a spousal tribute for a certain stubborn man who refuses to wear anything other than dark uncultured fabrics... You are mandated to wear it upon our return."

Silas blinked with a rare surprised warmth touching his chest.

He cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his neck as Harper groaned loudly in the background.

"What a shameless bribery... It doesn’t matter though, I’ll do better later." Harper said as she too began looking for jewelry.

To round out her personal shopping spree, Seraphina dropped another Seventy-Five Million Spirit Credits on Lot Twenty-One... an ancient five-hundred-year-old Phoenix-Ash Alchemical Crucible carved from petrified dragon bone, intended for refining high-grade core elixirs for House Bloom’s private laboratories.

’This woman is really rich...’ Silas thought, suddenly the amount that he received from Evelyn didn’t feel so big anymore. ’When am I going to see something that I want though?’

As the auction transitioned into the mid-twenties, Lot Twenty-Five was wheeled onto the circular stage.

Resting atop a cushion of pristine white silk was an exquisite, teardrop-shaped emerald necklace.

The central gemstone was roughly the size of a plum, suspended from a delicate shimmering chain woven from spun silver threads.

The moment the spotlight illuminated the jewel, a soft breathtaking emerald-green luminescence filled the amphitheater.

Through the audio speakers, the soothing melody of rustling leaves and the crisp clean aroma of morning dew seemed to drift into the room.

"Lot Twenty-Five!" the auctioneer announced with reverent eloquence. "The Tear of the Slumbering World! Recovered from the deepest sanctum of a petrified dying forest within an Uncharted Zone of the Sovereign Realm! While this relic possesses no direct offensive capabilities, it holds a vast, inexhaustible reservoir of ancient nature mana, capable of revitalizing barren sovereign soil, accelerating the growth of celestial herbs, and soothing wounded divine spirits."

The moment the words registered, Silas’s breath caught in his throat.

’The Tear of the Slumbering World...’ Silas thought, his golden-ringed eyes locking onto the glowing green pendant.

His mind immediately flashed back to the tranquil gardens of the Blessed Land in the Umbral Basin, where Eluned, the Former Spirit of the World Tree, spent her quiet days with him, tending to their crops, healing the troops, and watching over all of them with gentle unwavering divine loyalty.

’It belongs to her or rather it’ll fit her,’ Silas thought with a fierce protective warmth swelling in his chest. ’It would look breathtaking resting against her collarbone. And the pure nature mana will help her become stronger...’

Silas leaned forward, reaching out toward the brass bidding console on the mahogany table.

His fingers hovered over the keys, hesitating.

Despite having amassed millions of Spirit Credits through Evelyn, the deep-seated instincts of a young man who had spent years counting every single credit to make his life better made his fingers freeze.

Dropping tens of millions of credits on a decorative necklace felt completely foreign and almost terrifyingly reckless.

’It’s for Elu... so why won’t my hand move?’

A self-conscious flush crept up the back of Silas’s neck.

Harper, watching him like a hawk from the side, instantly spotted his hesitation.

A wide mischievous grin spread across her face as she leaned over, aggressively poking his muscular ribs with her elbow.

"Look at you!" Harper giggled delightedly, nudging his broad shoulder. "A terrifying Lord like you who who obliterates monster hordes without flinching is getting all shy over a pretty green necklace! What’s the matter, Silas? Afraid to spend a little pocket change on yourself? Go on, press the button! Or do I need to hold your big scary hand while you do it?!"

Seraphina glanced up from his lap, her sharp crimson eyes softening with a rare affectionate amusement as she rested her manicured hand gently over his.

"Do not hesitate, Silas," Seraphina encouraged softly, her voice sounding remarkably tender. "A true Lord takes whatever pleases his eye... If your private liquidity is insufficient, Reginald’s black card is at your disposal. You can consider it my personal gift to your territory."

"I have my own money," Silas grunted, his face turning slightly redder under their combined teasing.

Steeling his resolve, Silas firmly keyed his bid into the numerical grid.

BZZZZT-CHUNK.

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

[BID OVERRIDE: VIP SUITE SEVEN]

CURRENT BID: 45,000,000 SPIRIT CREDITS

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

Across the arena in VIP Suite Twelve, Cedric Blackwood’s eye twitched so violently it looked like a medical seizure.

But having already learned the brutal lesson of Suite Seven’s bottomless pockets, the young noble simply ground his teeth into dust and refrained from touching his console.

BANG!

"Sold! To VIP Suite Seven for Forty-Five Million Spirit Credits!"

Silas leaned back into the sofa, letting out a long satisfied breath.

’Eluned is going to love it...’

Once the dam was broken, Silas did not hold back.

When Lot Twenty-Nine arrived... a colossal reinforced adamantine shipping crate containing eight tons of newly discovered Astral Void-Titanium Alloy harvested from a fallen meteor in the Deep Wastes... The Upgrade System practically hummed with hungry anticipation inside his soul.

There was no tab but Silas could feel it.

’Or maybe that’s an excuse for me to get more ores...’

Recognizing the immense value the rare metal would provide for upgrading the Blessed Land’s defensive walls and forging high-tier weaponry for his troops, Silas hammered the console, securing the entire eight-ton shipment for Seventy Million Spirit Credits.

’I hate myself...’

Then, Lot Thirty-Two was brought to the stage. It was called the Scepter of the Dune-Sovereign.

It was a Tier-3 staff carved from petrified desert gold, topped with a swirling orb of concentrated earth mana that could manipulate tectonic currents and summon devastating sandstorms.

Silas immediately thought of Kadi, the sandy-haired earth mage who had absolutely demolished the Mage Royale tournament by going berserk on her opponents, then turned around and acted sweet and innocent immediately after.

She was his Second Secretary now.

’Fuck, she’s been making do with that cheap wooden training staff since the tournament,’ Silas thought as a flash of guilt crossing his mind. ’I gave her the Realm Seed and the Secretary title... She deserves something that can actually handle her raw output. This scepter is a perfect fit for someone who fights like she does.’

Silas dropped Sixty-Five Million Spirit Credits without a second thought, claiming the scepter for his loyal battle-hungry spellcaster.

Finally, as Lot Thirty-Six was wheeled into the spotlight, Silas’s eyes locked onto a massive multi-tiered display rack.

Resting on the velvet tiers was an entire military battalion set... There were Seventy Matching Frost-Drake Carapace Bucklers and Runic Short-Spears.

Forged from the indestructible ice-scales and razor fangs of sub-zero rift beasts, the shields were lightweight, impervious to elemental frost, and engraved with deflection runes, while the short-spears thrummed with piercing cold.

The entire set was tailored specifically for high-mobility melee shield-maidens.

’Haah... I remember I still owe the girls gifts from the Mage Tournament...’

He wanted to give them gifts as well, plus Thora as well as the new Dwarves could also mass produce this or so with the new alloy he bought for the mages.

"I am taking the entire set," Silas declared firmly as Seraphina as well as Harper gave him a proud nod. "Please don’t hate me..."

He slammed his palm against the terminal, entering an uncontested bid of One Hundred and Twenty Million Spirit Credits.

’I already hate myself enough. Look at how much money I’m spending!’

BANG!

"Sold! To VIP Suite Seven for One Hundred and Twenty Million Spirit Credits!"

By the time the auctioneer’s gavel struck the podium, the entire amphitheater had descended into an uproar of terrified speculation.

Masked merchants, syndicate bosses, and foreign Lords in the lower tiers were craning their necks, staring up at the dark impenetrable glass of Suite Seven in utter disbelief.

"Who in the gods’ names is in Suite Seven?!"

"They’ve spent over four hundred million credits in the last two hours alone!"

"Is that an Imperial Plenipotentiary from the Central Alliance?!"

"They’re buying weapons, beast cores, raw alloys, and entire battalion armories... whoever they are, they aren’t just rich... they’re outfitting an entire private army!"

Inside VIP Suite Twelve, Cedric Blackwood had completely collapsed into the cushions of his sofa.

His expensive cigar had tumbled from his limp fingers, burning a hole into the emerald rug.

His slicked-back blond hair was thoroughly disheveled with strands falling over his pale sweaty forehead and his hands were trembling with pure rage.

"Haaah..."

Every single item he had even glanced at had been ruthlessly, effortlessly snatched away by the unseen titan occupying Suite Seven.

Down on the floor, the kneeling maid buried her face deeper into the rug, desperately biting her lower lip to keep from bursting into loud triumphant laughter at her arrogant master’s expression.

CLANG!CLANG! CLANG!

Three deep, somber, and deafening strikes of a massive bronze bell echoed through the amphitheater, cutting through the chaotic murmurs of the crowd like a guillotine.

The ambient sconces across the entire colosseum abruptly extinguished, plunging the multi-tiered arena into pitch-black darkness.

HUMMMMM.

A massive multi-layered defensive barrier of glowing golden runes flickered to life around the perimeter of the circular stage, sealing the auction platform behind twelve feet of reinforced barriers.

The Chief Auctioneer stepped into the center of a singular azure spotlight once more.

His theatrical porcelain demon mask seemed to gleam with dark chilling gravity however this time, he did not smile and he did not bow as well.

His amplified voice dropped into a low electrifying baritone that made the air in every VIP suite feel heavy.

"Honored Lords, sovereign delegates, and masters of the shadows," the auctioneer began. "The preliminary lots are concluded. The time has finally arrived... We have reached the Final Three Lots of The Obsidian Sanhedrin."

A collective breathless roar of excitement erupted from the thousands of spectators, shaking the very bedrock of the cavern.

Inside Suite Seven, Silas, Harper, and Seraphina all leaned forward, their eyes locking onto the dark center of the stage.

CREAK... CHUNK!

The heavy central hydraulic lift groaned as a colossal reinforced adamantine pillar slowly rose from the bedrock beneath the arena.

Resting atop a cushion of dark velvet, bound securely beneath four layers of heavy mana-nullifying chains, was a single ancient weapon.

It was a heavily curved, single-edged pirate saber... a cutlass of magnificent terrifying proportions.

The blade was forged from an entirely unknown luminescent oceanic alloy that shimmered with shifting ethereal hues of seafoam green and liquid silver.

Intricate wave-like Damascus patterns rippled across the metal like living oceanic currents, and the hilt was wrapped in the dark calcified leather of an ancient sea serpent, guarded by a solid-gold basket hilt intricately sculpted in the likeness of a roaring leviathan’s jaws.

Even resting inert and bound beneath the suppression chains, the sound of crashing tidal waves and whistling coastal winds echoed from the steel.

"Lot Number Thirty-Eight!" the auctioneer projected, his voice carrying a weight that silenced the murmuring crowd. "The Tide-Bringer of the Leviathan’s Wake..."

The auctioneer stepped closer to the pedestal, his gloved hand hovering over the golden basket hilt.

He didn’t launch into a lengthy historical lecture as instead, he simply spoke one word.

"Observe."

He lightly tapped the golden hilt with a single, concentrated drop of his own mana.

FWOOOOOOOOOSH!

The transformation was instantaneous and terrifying.

The luminescent oceanic alloy of the curved blade flared with a blinding incandescent azure light that swallowed the entire stage.

BOOOOOOOOOM!

A colossal suffocating tidal wave of pure phantom oceanic mana detonated outward from the steel, completely shattering the stage’s dampeners in an instant.

Within a fraction of a second, the entire multi-tiered colosseum was violently submerged in a place that looked like it was the deep ocean floor.

Thousands of spectators gasped, frantically clutching their throats in sudden paralyzed terror as the air in their lungs felt as suffocating as pressurized seawater at ten thousand meters depth.

The deafening primeval roar of colossal abyssal leviathans echoed directly inside their skulls, accompanied by the chilling visual of towering hundred-meter-tall ghost waves crashing through the stone ceiling.

Even inside VIP Suite Seven, protected behind three layers of enchanted obsidian glass, Silas felt the crushing weight of the sea press against his ribs.

’It seems familiar...’

His Mythic Gold Core flared instinctively with golden sovereign conduits igniting beneath his skin to effortlessly neutralize the atmospheric pressure, while Harper and Seraphina both gasped, their elemental auras flaring to resist the crushing phantom tide.

FZZZT!

The auctioneer abruptly severed his mana flow.

The blinding azure light extinguished, the roaring phantom waves vanished into thin air, and the suffocating oceanic pressure instantly dissipated, leaving thousands of masked bidders coughing, sweating profusely, and clutching their chests in shock.

The auctioneer stood tall beside the silent, glowing saber. He let the silence stretch for a long, deliberate moment before he spoke again.

"Fragmented naval logs recovered alongside the wreckage suggest this blade belonged to an SSS-Rank being... one whose name has been struck from every official record... What remains is this... the steel remembers and... it is hungry."

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