Game Era – Lost Odyssey

Seeing the bidder nod affirmatively, Peter eagerly raised his gavel, poised to strike, when another sign slowly lifted in a different corner. How long had it been since this happened? Stunned for a moment, Peter shouted with even greater excitement, “Number seven bids eleven thousand! Anyone higher? Any higher bids?”

A ripple of commotion stirred the sparse crowd. Competitive bidding like this had all but vanished since the game company announced the removal of supernatural elements from Real Illusion. Not just Peter, but everyone in the room was caught off guard, turning curiously to size up the two bidders.

Number eighteen sat in the back-left corner—a man in his early forties, wearing gold-rimmed glasses and a crisp suit, his demeanor meticulous, like some high-ranking corporate executive, unremarkable otherwise. Number seven, in the right corner, looked under thirty, dressed casually with an easygoing air. He seemed handsome, though wide sunglasses obscured half his face, making it hard to tell for sure.

“Number eighteen bids twelve thousand!” Peter barely finished before raising his voice again. “Number seven bids thirteen! Eighteen bids fourteen! Seven bids fifteen…”

The two traded bids relentlessly, driving the price to over four hundred thousand in moments. Then, the sunglass-wearing man, growing impatient, raised his sign and called out, “One million!”

The room erupted. Even for a top-tier weapon in Real Illusion, few would pay that much—unless it was before the company’s announcement. Eyes turned to number eighteen, who was sweating profusely, repeatedly removing his glasses to wipe them, then pulling out his phone to make a call, anxiously awaiting an answer. Following protocol, Peter called the price three times. Seeing eighteen still preoccupied with his call and not raising further, Peter awarded Blade of Darkness to number seven. Via computer, he deducted the million from seven’s pre-submitted deposit and handed over the weapon’s password card. Checking the transaction, Peter was stunned to see number seven’s deposit was ten million—enough to buy everything on offer today! This guy came prepared, determined to win. But who would splurge on soon-to-be-worthless virtual gear now?

“Boss, someone’s sniping bids! They jacked Blade of Darkness up to a million!” Number eighteen’s call finally connected, and he whispered urgently into the phone, hand cupped over the mouthpiece. A shocked exclamation burst from the other end: “What? A million? Buy it! Get it no matter the cost!”

“But you only gave me a million in deposit!” Gold-rimmed glasses cautioned. A curse exploded in response, “Damn it! I’m wiring ten million to your card right now. Hand it to the auction house as collateral. I want those six items—spare no expense!”

“But… but Blade of Darkness already went to someone else.”

“You idiot!” The voice roared, spiking in volume. “Offer double—make him sell it to you now!”

“Yes, yes!” Gold-rimmed glasses murmured, when a sharp crack sounded through the earpiece, and the call cut off. He waited, but only a busy tone remained. Pocketing his phone, he looked up to find that, in the brief time he’d been on the call, another item had slipped cheaply into his rival’s hands.

“Idiot! Moron!” On the other end, a slender, pale hand hurled the phone in fury, smashing it against the wall with a shattering crash. A maid scurried to pick up the broken device, then slipped out, quietly closing the door behind her.

This was a spacious office, windows shut tight, heavy curtains drawn, casting the room in dimness. Yet this made the TV wall on the left stand out vividly. Its screen showed a towering blue building, the Federal TV logo crowning its peak, with a dozen spider-like figures scaling its glass walls. The fastest, a woman in black, had passed the midpoint. This was clearly the live broadcast of the Extreme Olympics’ rock climbing event.

“Who’d compete with me for those virtual items?” The hand’s owner had calmed down, the once-raging limb now resting quietly on the chair’s armrest. A large pink diamond ring on the ring finger glinted dazzlingly in the gloom.

“No idea,” came a detached, frigid reply from a corner, like a winter river laced with ice, chilling to the bone.

The hand’s owner didn’t press further, instead brushing the ring lightly with the other hand before swiveling the chair toward the TV wall. Several climbers neared the Federal TV Tower’s roof, the cat-like woman in black still leading, a good twenty meters ahead of second place.

“Who’ll reach the top first?” The hand pointed at the screen. “I say Flying Cat. No one’s threatening her lead.”

“Number three,” the corner voice replied, still flat and emotionless.

“Number three? You mean the biggest dark horse this time?” The hand’s owner sounded surprised but quickly nodded. “Makes sense. Jasina’s at her limit, burning her last reserves, while three’s just picking up speed. Climbing tests strength and endurance—women can’t match men there.”

As if on cue, the red-clad number three accelerated on-screen, closing in on Jasina and overtaking her with ease. The once-nimble Jasina, who’d bounded upward like a cat, slowed drastically, helplessly watching another surpass her.

“You’re always right,” the hand’s owner sighed as number three reached the roof, waving to the helicopter camera. “But with the women’s bonus points in this event, Jasina might still come out on top.”

He abruptly spun the chair halfway, peering at the shadowy figure in the corner. “The final event’s your specialty—‘Ultimate Hunt.’ Who’ll win that, and who’ll be the new All-Around King of Riders?”

Silence gripped the room for several minutes. When the shadow finally spoke, a rare hesitation crept in: “Number three wins ‘Ultimate Hunt,’ but the overall winner… hard to say…”

The desk phone rang sharply. The hand picked it up, and a dejected voice came through: “Boss, they wouldn’t sell Blade of Darkness. They even snagged two more items. I only got Cloak of Invisibility, Sky Eye, and Heart-Seizing Charm.”

“What? Ten million, and you only got three things?”

“They’ve got deeper pockets. Our sky-high bids drew media attention, so I backed off.”

The owner paused, then snarled, “Fine. Get your ass to Antarctica for a vacation—don’t come back for three years!”

Hanging up, he switched on the intercom and barked, “Find out who bought my stuff! Get it for me, whatever it takes!”

Shutting off the device, he stared numbly at number three waving triumphantly on the screen, muttering to himself, “Who’s fighting me for this soon-to-be-junk virtual gear?”