“We shall begin the bidding at one hundred thousand gold!”
The auctioneer’s voice echoed throughout the underground hall, and almost immediately, several bidding boards rose from among the crowd.
“One hundred thousand gold!” someone called from near the front.
Another bidder raised his board without hesitation.
“Two hundred thousand!” A third voice followed from the opposite side of the chamber with an offer of two hundred and fifty thousand, and from that moment onward, the numbers climbed so quickly that the auctioneer barely had enough time to repeat each amount before another bidder challenged it.
Among the crowded seats, a large-built man sat with his arms folded across his chest, watching the competition with growing impatience.
Framon Donius was a noble whose name had become increasingly familiar within the darker corners of Srivi, and judging by the way his eyes remained fixed upon the Elf inside the cage, he had not come merely to watch.
Gardo sat nearby, his fingers tapping restlessly against the armrest as another bidding board rose.
Neither man had expected the Elf to attract this much competition.
“Three hundred thousand!”
“Four hundred thousand!”
Framon’s patience finally ran out.
He raised one hand without bothering to reach for a bidding board.
“Five hundred thousand.” The auctioneer’s eyes immediately lit up.
“Five hundred thousand gold!” He swept his gaze across the chamber, waiting eagerly for someone else to challenge the offer, but for several seconds, no one responded.
Framon slowly leaned back in his chair, and a faint smile began forming on his face.
At that price, he was certain most of the guests had already reached their limit.
“Six hundred thousand.”
The smile disappeared.
Framon slowly turned toward the opposite side of the hall, trying to identify the person who had spoken, but before he could locate them, another bidding board rose from somewhere within the crowd.
“Seven hundred thousand.” Excitement flashed across the auctioneer’s face.
“Seven hundred thousand gold!” He raised his gavel while looking from one table to another.
“Does anyone dare to go higher?”
The underground hall fell strangely quiet.
Framon’s jaw tightened as he stared into the dimly lit crowd, waiting for another offer, yet no one seemed willing to continue.
The auctioneer lifted his gavel.
“Seven hundred thousand, once…” Silence followed.
“Twice…”
“One million.”
The gavel stopped in midair.
For a moment, even the auctioneer seemed uncertain whether he had heard correctly.
“What?” At the rear of the hall, a man slowly raised one hand.
A dark cloak concealed his entire body, while a mask covered his face so completely that there was nothing distinctive enough to reveal who he might be.
He remained seated as dozens of people turned toward him.
“One million gold,” he repeated.
Whispers erupted throughout the chamber.
Several guests twisted around in their seats to get a better look at the mysterious bidder, while Framon immediately turned toward the rear with his eyes narrowed.
“Who is that?” Gardo leaned forward beside him, trying to see through the people between them.
“Who the hell is he?” The masked man offered neither of them an answer.
Having made his bid, he simply lowered his hand and waited.
The auctioneer swallowed before slowly recovering his composure.
“One million gold…” His gaze moved toward Framon, clearly hoping the noble would challenge the offer and drive the price even higher.
Every part of his expression suggested that he wanted to continue, but one million gold had already gone far beyond what he had intended to spend.
After several tense seconds, he remained silent.
“One million, once!”
BANG!
“One million, twice!”
BANG!
The auctioneer allowed one final moment for another bid before bringing the gavel down.
BANG!
“Sold! The Elf belongs to our mysterious guest!”
Another wave of whispers swept through the hall.
Some guests stared openly at the masked man, while others immediately began speculating about what kind of person could spend one million gold on a single captive without revealing even the slightest hesitation.
Framon remained in his seat with his teeth clenched, his anger no longer directed toward the auction itself but toward the stranger who had taken what he believed should have belonged to him.
Then every light in the hall went out.
Darkness swallowed the underground chamber without warning.
Startled voices immediately rose from every direction as chairs scraped violently against the floor and guests stumbled into one another.
“What happened?!” someone shouted.
Another voice called for the guards, while several people demanded that the torches be relit.
Before anyone could restore order, the heavy doors surrounding the auction hall slammed shut.
BAM!
“Nobody move!”
The command cut through the confusion, followed almost immediately by the sound of dozens of weapons being drawn.
Armed hunters poured through the entrances surrounding the chamber, their weapons already prepared as several magical lamps were raised among them.
Pale light gradually returned to the hall, illuminating the hunters spreading across every exit and the shocked faces of the guests trapped between them.
The realization spread quickly.
“It’s the Guild!”
“They’re raiding the auction!”
“Get out of here!”
Panic erupted.
Several nobles abandoned their tables and rushed toward the nearest exits, only to be driven back by armed hunters waiting there.
Others began desperately searching the walls for another way out, while guards employed by the auction struggled to decide whether fighting their way through the Guild was worth the risk.
The orderly gathering collapsed into chaos within seconds.
Amid the confusion, a hooded woman appeared beside a group of nobles near the stage.
She glanced around as though equally desperate to escape before pointing toward a small door partially concealed behind the stage.
“Quick! Follow me!” she shouted.
“There’s a secret passage behind that door. If you want to get out, follow me!”
The nobles needed little convincing.
Several immediately rushed after her, pushing through one another in their desperation to reach the hidden exit.
Framon and Gardo joined them without hesitation, disappearing through the narrow doorway as the hooded woman led the group deeper into the passage.
Behind them, the mysterious bidder who had purchased the Elf slipped through the same entrance with another cloaked man accompanying him.
To anyone watching, they appeared to be nothing more than another group of criminals desperately fleeing the Guild’s raid.
But they were not running. Visit g.com for the full chapter.
They were being led exactly where Javier wanted them to go.
The narrow passage twisted beneath the streets of Srome, forcing the group to move in a single hurried line as their footsteps echoed against the stone walls.
The hooded woman remained several paces ahead, guiding them through every turn without once slowing to question the path.
Framon followed close behind, occasionally glancing over his shoulder whenever distant sounds from the raid reached them, while Gardo struggled to keep pace beside him.
Several minutes passed before the passage finally widened into a larger underground corridor.
An old stone door stood at the far end, its surface covered in dust and thin cracks.
The sight of it caused Framon to release the breath he had been holding.
He slowed near the exit and placed one hand against the wall while catching his breath.
“We made it out.”
The hooded woman stepped aside.
Framon hurried toward the stone door and pushed it open.
His expression immediately changed.
Dozens of armed hunters were waiting on the other side.
Weapons were already drawn, and every possible path beyond the doorway had been blocked.
Framon stopped where he stood, his breathing catching in his throat as the nobles crowded behind him.
“What…?” Several immediately turned back toward the passage, only to discover more hunters emerging from the darkness behind them.
There was nowhere left to go.
At the center of the formation stood a young man with white-golden hair, a black blindfold covering his eyes.
His posture was composed, almost relaxed, despite the dozens of armed hunters surrounding him.
One hand rested loosely at his side while his face remained directed toward the group trapped before him.
Hans stood silently beside him.
The color slowly drained from Framon’s face.
Before he could speak, footsteps approached from behind.
The mysterious bidder who had offered one million gold for the Elf emerged from the passage and stopped several meters away.
He raised both hands toward his mask and slowly removed it.
The second cloaked man accompanying him did the same.
Alaric.
Framon’s eyes widened.
“Your Highness…”
The pieces finally fell into place.
The mysterious bidder, the sudden Guild raid, the conveniently discovered escape route and the hunters waiting at its end had never been separate events.
From the moment the auction descended into chaos, they had been moving exactly where Javier intended.
Javier took a slow step forward.
The faint sound of his shoe striking the stone floor travelled clearly through the corridor, and despite the weapons surrounding them, that single footstep seemed to draw everyone’s attention toward him.
There was no anger visible on his face, nor any satisfaction at seeing Framon cornered.
Only a cold certainty remained in his expression.
“You’ve run far enough.”
Framon instinctively stepped backward until his body nearly struck the people behind him.
Beside him, Gardo’s breathing had become uneven, the confidence he had carried throughout the auction completely gone.
“C-Crown Prince…” he stammered.
Javier tilted his head slightly, listening to the frightened breaths and racing heartbeats filling the underground corridor.
“There is nowhere left to run.”