No! I don't want to be a Super Necromancer!

Second floor: D-Rank to low B-Rank. Here the crowd thinned, but tension thickened. Buyers wore badges. Uniforms. Guild marks. Each item had a mana tax to just touch.

A blade floated in a stasis field. Its edge glowed faint blue.

"Frost Spine," the appraiser was saying. "B-Rank. Bone-tempered from a third-gen frost wyvern. Limited sentience. Only accepts female users. Current bid: $420,000."

"Yikes," Damien muttered.

One man wore two swords on his back and five rings on each finger.

Damien passed a small case displaying a pair of black iron gauntlets covered in sigils.

[Breaker's Hands – B-Rank. Breaks mana fields with raw force. Requires minimum Strength: 10.]

The item pulsed once as Damien passed.

It dimmed again after.

"Boss… it reacted to you," Fatty whispered.

"Later," Damien said. "Let's go up."

The third floor felt like stepping into a curated legend.

Mana in the air was thicker, heavier. It clung to the skin like perfume.

Crystal lanterns lit each aisle with soft ambient hues, carefully tuned to suppress magical interference.

Every item was encased in reinforced display barriers, triple-layered mana glass etched with deterrent glyphs and backed by a suppression field strong enough to freeze a fire elemental mid-cast.

Security there was extremely tight. Silent. Men and women in dark uniforms moved like shadows between the rows, each wearing low-key enchantments and carrying mana suppressors disguised as walking canes. A single misstep or unauthorized attempt to breach a case would likely result in unconsciousness, or most probably death, before you even hit the ground.

"Now this," Fatty breathed, "is where the real stuff lives."

The first thing that caught Damien's eye was a long, twin-edged spear suspended in a vertical gravity field, rotating slowly. Its shaft was polished obsidian, but the blade, clear as glass, hummed with stored light.

[Gloryshard – B-Rank (Ascending Potential). Wielded by Captain Xu Wei during the defense of Tianlu Crater. Confirmed to have killed three mid-tier awakened beasts before shattering and reforming mid-combat.]

"This was actually quite recent. Captain Xu died standing," Fatty murmured. "Refused to fall even after his core collapsed. They say the spear held his soul for three days before he passed."

Next to it, a set of gloves floated inside a sealed cryogenic orb. They glowed faint purple, with visible crackles of arcane electricity pulsing across the knuckles.

[Stormbearer Gauntlets – A-Rank. Forged by the Tempest Forge in the western isles. Originally worn by Zhao Tianlei, the 'Storm Emperor' of the Eastern Vanguard.]

Damien watched as a buyer placed his hand against the viewing crystal. A soft beep followed, and the orb remained sealed.

"Rejected," the appraiser said. "Insufficient elemental resonance."

In another case, a cloak floated on an invisible hanger, fluttering as if caught in a phantom breeze.

[Raven Mantle – A-Rank. Enchanted with spatial compression. Grants limited teleportation within line-of-sight. Formerly used by a rogue operative from the Black Moon Order during the Silent War.]

"That thing was used to steal the Crown of Embers," Fatty whispered. "Before the operative vanished for twenty years. They only found the cloak."

A massive bronze tower shield hung on the back wall, big enough to block a truck.

[Wall of No Return – B+ Rank. Final defense of the Jadefront Bastion during the Southern Collapse. Absorbed the impact of three beast detonations before being pulled from the rubble.]

"And the man who used it?" Damien asked.

"Alive. But retired," Fatty replied. "He carried forty people out of that ruin before his knees gave out."

They continued past a glass case displaying a crystal vial of swirling green liquid. It radiated heat and pressure even through the barrier.

[Phoenix Draught – A-Rank. Single-use. Purifies poison and restores vitality. Last known dose.]

"Too rare to use. Too important to sell," the display tag read.

The atmosphere was reverent. Not loud. Not chaotic. Buyers here didn't haggle. They whispered. Studied. Waited for the auction window to open.

"Don't touch anything unless you want to explain to the security mage why you accidentally ignited half the building," Fatty warned.

Damien nodded, eyes still scanning. "It's not just weapons. These are histories. Wounds. Victories."

"Each item's been through war. Or helped end one," Fatty said, quietly serious for once.

They passed another set of displays.

A shattered bow, wrapped in golden vines.

A dented helm worn by a beast-slaying knight.

A single, still-glowing arrowhead rumored to have pierced the scales of a half-dragon assassin.

All of it guarded. All of it respected.

And all of it for sale… for the right bidder.

Damien exhaled slowly as they reached the stairway to the fourth floor.

"Let's see what they're auctioning today," he said.

Fatty grinned. "Just don't bid against me if they bring out mana bacon. I've been saving coupons."

Damien chuckled.

But already, his eyes were sharpening.

Because if items like this were only on the third floor…

Then the fourth floor was going to be something else entirely.

They followed a back hall toward a discreet stairwell. The fourth floor had no displays.

It was quiet. Luxurious.

A large amphitheater-style auction chamber stood at the center. Velvet seats. Floating display crystals. A stage ringed with protection wards.

Damien spotted her at the far end, leaning on a railing, arms folded.

As before, her black hair was tied into a high ponytail, swaying slightly with every shift of her weight. The soft lighting played along the curve of her back and traced the sensual lines of her perfectly sized chest. Slim, toned, and effortlessly feminine. Her outfit clung in all the right places, suggesting strength beneath the elegance, and the way she leaned against the railing gave her the poised, effortless confidence of a supermodel… One who just happened to carry daggers.

She turned slightly as they approached, eyes twinkling slightly in pleasure.

"Hey." Sheila Shadowbane said.

Damien tilted his head. "Hey. Fatty said you were looking for me?"

"You disappeared during the Blackthorn Camp attack. I was wondering how you fared." Sheila Shadowbane said with a smile.

"I'm ok. Your daggers are very well made." Damien offered a few words of compliment.

"Thank you." Her fingers tapped a black velvet case. "Interested in a set of daggers forged from a fallen Shade Elemental?"

Damien looked down at the case.

The sigil glowed faintly.

[A-Rank – Phantom Crescent Twins]

He smiled faintly.

"Yes."