Starting With an SSS-Rank Goddess Summon!

The amphitheater of the Obsidian Sanhedrin hung suspended in a suffocating quiet.

Above the circular red-obsidian stage, the vapor of salt spray, briny sea-wrack, and freezing oceanic pressure still curled through the air, carrying the phantom aroma of the untamed deep.

Down upon the central display pedestal, the single-edged curved cutlass... The Tide-Bringer of the Leviathan’s Wake lay motionless, resting against its dark velvet cushion while bound beneath four heavy sets of mana-suppression chains.

The faint sound of crashing waves still hummed along its fuller with a whisper that resonated within the bone marrow of every Awakened Lord in the room.

The Chief Auctioneer stood proudly beneath the dazzling white spotlights.

He rested his gloved hands against the floating obsidian podium, his demon mask casting sharp theatrical shadows across his features as he looked up toward the surrounding tiers of private VIP suites and the crowded stone benches below.

"Honored patrons," the auctioneer’s booming voice rolled through the large room clearly. "Reasonably speaking, our historical scholars and appraisal masters cannot fully ascertain whether the legendary commander of The Leviathan’s Wake was an SSS-Rank Entity or a calamity walking the razor-thin border of that mythic realm! The records pulled from the depths are fragmented by centuries of corrosive abyssal tides. However, the undeniable presence and the majesty of this blade speak with authority! This is a Tier-4 Sovereign Relic of pure oceanic dominion!"

He reached out, his fingers wrapping around the polished haft of his gold-headed gavel, and brought it down against the sounding block with a sharp sound that echoed off the vaulted bedrock ceiling.

BANG!

"We shall open the bidding for Lot Number Thirty-Eight at an aggressive, premier valuation!" the auctioneer projected with electric showmanship, his arm sweeping across the dark expanse of the colosseum. "The starting price is One Hundred Million Spirit Credits! Increments of ten million! The floor is open!"

Inside VIP Suite Seven, Silas leaned forward on the emerald-leather sectional, his dark hair falling across his brow.

Through the one-way panoramic glass, his blue eyes ringed with the subtle dormant gold locked onto the curved shimmering steel resting on the stage.

’Ah... It still feels familiar.’

There was something undeniably magnetic about the cutlass.

It was not a sterile ornamental blade meant for sheltered aristocrats parading through academy halls... It was a brutal, weather-beaten instrument of pure conquest, built to cleave through roaring sea monsters and shatter hull plating amidst howling abyssal squalls.

’I don’t know why I think it’s something that Morwenna knows...’

The faint rhythmic crash of phantom waves that bled from its fuller seemed to call out to something deep within his soul.

For a man who was actively building his own domain from the ground up, the idea of claiming a maritime relic tied directly to the legendary central waters of the Sovereign Realm stirred an instinctive hunger in his chest.

’And not to mention I can make Morwenna happy too...’

He could already envision Morwenna’s reaction if he brought this blade back to the Blessed Land... the way her stormy gray eyes would widen, the way her weathered fingers would trace the golden basket hilt with a trembling look on her face.

’She’s so cute...’

Silas reached toward the polished brass bidding terminal resting on the mahogany coffee table before him.

Down on the lower tiers and across the mid-level corporate balconies, the arena erupted into immediate, chaotic activity.

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

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

[CURRENT BID: 140,000,000 SC - FLOOR TIER 1]

[CURRENT BID: 180,000,000 SC - VIP SUITE FOUR]

[CURRENT BID: 230,000,000 SC - FLOOR TIER 2]

[CURRENT BID: 300,000,000 SC - VIP SUITE NINE]

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

Within less than twenty seconds, the digital scoreboard suspended above the stage surged past the three-hundred-million mark, the flashing crimson runes climbing with unrelenting speed.

’I still think it’s a bit cheap... is it because they’re not sure or are they trying to highball it?’

Silas’s hand halted three inches above the polished interface.

His dark eyebrows drew together as he watched the numbers climb.

’Haah... Not again...’

Even with Harper constantly insisting that House Whitmore would cover the entire ledger, Silas possessed a bit of a stubborn pride.

’I can do hundreds of millions but at this rate, it’s going to go into a billion.’

Spending a billion on an impulse buy especially when the primary objective of Harper’s date was still waiting in the wings felt reckless.

Silas let out a quiet breath through his nose with his shoulders settling back against the leather cushions as he began to withdraw his hand.

’Three hundred million for a sidearm... as much as I want to see what that oceanic alloy can do under my system upgrades, there should be a reasonable limit to another person’s money. Or I’ll ask for permission an—’

Before his fingers could fully pull away, a pale slender hand shot past his shoulder.

Harper Whitmore didn’t just tap the console.

With a bright wicked grin spreading across her lips, the purple-haired Lightning Lord slammed her palm flat against the custom numeric grid, her fingers flying over the runes with effortless fluid speed.

BZZZZT-CHUNK!

A violent blinding flare of scarlet light detonated across the central holographic projection ring above the stage, completely overriding the active bid stream with an authoritative system chime.

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

[BID: VIP SUITE SEVEN]

CURRENT BID: 1,000,000,000 SPIRIT CREDITS

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

A heavy stillness dropped over the amphitheater like a falling guillotine.

Down on the lower tiers, masked syndicate leaders froze with their transponder wands held halfway in the air.

In the private merchant balconies, crystal wine chalices remained halted inches from open mouths.

Even the Chief Auctioneer stood entirely rigid upon the red obsidian platform, his mouth hanging open behind his demon mask as he stared up at the massive glowing ten-digit figure.

A direct leap from three hundred million straight to One Billion Spirit Credits?!

Inside VIP Suite Seven, Silas slowly turned his head, his deadpan gaze settling on Harper.

"Harper... did you really just drop one billion credits on a pirate saber?"

"I sure did!" Harper replied cheerfully, her voice brimming with glee as she propped her elbow on the mahogany table and tossed her violet curls over her shoulder.

The way she said it made it sound like she’d just bought a cup of coffee rather than a billion-credit relic.

Sitting directly on Silas’s lap, Seraphina shifted her weight, the silk of her crimson gown rustling softly against his trousers.

She adjusted her posture, resting her back firmly against his chest while her sharp crimson eyes narrowed at the glowing scoreboard.

A delicate and slightly irritated click of her tongue escaped her lips.

"You acted with excessive haste, Harper," Seraphina murmured, crossing her arms beneath her generous bust and looking sideways at the terminal. "I had already planned to do so... Fuck you. You deliberately intervened to deprive me of presenting Silas with a suitable tribute."

"Too slow on the trigger, Princess!" Harper laughed, leaning in close to Silas and boldly wrapping both of her arms around his muscular neck.

She pressed her cheek against his shoulder, her violet eyes sparkling with bright mischievous affection. "I saw the look in his eyes the second that blade started releasing phantom seawater. Silas likes pirates... Silas wanted the sword... Therefore, I am buying it for him. End of story!"

"Harper," Silas muttered, an awkward self-conscious warmth creeping up the back of his neck as he found himself caught between two noblewomen competing to casually throw generational fortunes at his feet.

"You have your own objective for being here right? You don’t need to burn a billion credits on an impulse purchase for me."

There had to be a limit to things.

"Don’t worry about my financial allocation, handsome," Harper whispered, her warm breath brushing against his ear as she gave his broad shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "Even after deducting a billion from our regional venture funds, I still have more than enough liquid capital to steamroll whoever stands between me and the grand finale. Besides... seeing that flustered, sheepish look on your face is worth ten times that amount."

Silas let out a low defeated chuckle with his lips curving into a reluctant touched smile.

The genuine warmth in her voice, the certainty with which she threw her resources behind him, made it impossible to stay annoyed.

Seeing him smile, Harper’s heart did a light happy flip in her chest.

’Ah cute... and he trusts me more now too, can I get a kiss this time?’

She opened her mouth, ready to deliver another smug, teasing remark—

BZZZZT-CHUNK!

A sharp abrasive mechanical chime echoed from across the arena.

Over on the western balcony, the holographic display of VIP Suite Twelve flared with golden runes.

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

[BID: VIP SUITE TWELVE]

CURRENT BID: 1,100,000,000 SPIRIT CREDITS

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

Inside Suite Twelve, Cedric Blackwood was breathing heavily, his neat, slicked-back blond hair falling into damp disordered strands across his forehead.

He was no longer reclining on the sofa with his boots resting on his maid.

He had bolted to his feet, his hands slamming down onto the mahogany console with enough violent force to rattle the brass fixtures, his pale gray eyes bulging with unhinged fury.

"I will not let them take it!" Cedric hissed through clenched teeth, his voice shaking with venom. "They have spent the entire night mocking me! Suite Seven thinks they can walk over House Blackwood without consequence?! I will buy this blade, drag it back to my estate, and use it as a fire poker just to spit on their arrogance!"

His fingers flew across the terminal, entering another frantic counter-bid without even consulting the maid.

The numbers on the screen blurred before his eyes...he didn’t care. He couldn’t let them win.

...Not again.

Down on the emerald carpet, the brown-haired maid remained on her hands and knees, her forehead pressed flat against the floorboards.

Her shoulders ached from having Cedric’s combat boots grinding into her neck for the past two hours, but as she listened to her master blindly commit over a billion credits to an emotional spite bid, a cold sickening dread settled into her chest.

If Lord Valerius arrived to discover that the Thorne family’s emergency reserves had been squandered on petty vengeance, the fallout would be catastrophic.

Yet, deep beneath that fear, an intoxicating quiet satisfaction began to stir in her stomach.

She had spent the entire night watching Suite Seven operate. She knew with terrifying certainty what was about to happen.

Back in VIP Suite Seven, Harper didn’t even flinch.

Her violet eyes narrowed with cold dismissive amusement as she looked across the vast amphitheater toward Suite Twelve.

"Oh, look at little House trying to puff his chest out," Harper sneered, her lips curving into a sharp smirk. "How utterly precious."

Without a second of hesitation, Harper reached down and pressed the maximum multiplier rune on the interface.

BZZZZT-CHUNK!

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

[BID: VIP SUITE SEVEN]

CURRENT BID: 1,500,000,000 SPIRIT CREDITS

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

In Suite Twelve, Cedric’s legs gave out completely.

He collapsed backward onto the velvet cushions, his mouth hanging open in paralyzed horror.

His throat worked soundlessly, his breath coming in dry wheezing gasps.

’I don’t want to bid higher... I still need to...’

Down on the floor, the kneeling maid buried her face into the emerald rug, biting down on her lip until she tasted copper to keep from laughing out loud at her master’s humiliating ruin.

Down on the circular stage, the Chief Auctioneer stared at the glowing display for three seconds before slamming his gavel onto the podium with a deafening crack.

BANG!

"One point five billion Spirit Credits! Going once! Going twice!"

BANG!

"SOLD! To the sovereign delegates of VIP Suite Seven!"

A deafening roar of awe and disbelief rippled through the spectators on the lower tiers.

The auctioneer bowed deeply toward the dark, reflective glass of Suite Seven, his voice carrying immense professional reverence.

"Our deepest congratulations to the esteemed patrons of Suite Seven," the auctioneer announced, gesturing toward the stage floor. "Our research division is currently finalizing the decryption of the naval logs recovered alongside the weapon. A comprehensive historical dossier detailing the known exploits of the pirate captain and The Leviathan’s Wake shall be delivered directly to your private reward vault alongside the blade upon the conclusion of tonight’s proceedings!"

With a deep hydraulic rumble, the adamantine pillar smoothly descended into the bedrock, carrying the glowing cutlass away.

The Chief Auctioneer took a slow measured breath, accepting a crystal glass of water from a masked stagehand.

He smoothed down the gold-embroidered lapels of his crimson coat, stepping back into the center of the brilliant white spotlight.

The atmosphere throughout the amphitheater, already charged with astronomical tension, grew noticeably heavier as the stage’s defensive runes flared with an intense violet hue.

"Honored Lords, sovereign delegates, and masters of the shadows," the auctioneer began, his voice dropping into a solemn reverence that commanded total silence. "We now bring forth Lot Number Thirty-Nine... the penultimate treasure of the Obsidian Sanhedrin."

CREAK... CHUNK!

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