Villain Hiring: Help! Author Wants Me Dead

"Of course," I continued, casually as if not just announcing the presence of a weapon that could eat souls, "you are all free to participate in the bidding…or not. This is still a private auction. But be aware, opportunities like this won't come again."

I paused.

"Ever."

Then came the final strike.

"To give everyone time to prepare, and, I assume, teleport their vaults over...the auction will resume in thirty minutes."

"...Starting, now!"

***

Another wave of chaos followed.

Some sprinted from their seats. Others yelled at servants. A few laughed, almost madly, and waved their hands into the air.

Several corks of liquor along with flashy glasses appeared into thin air.

"Hmph!" I snorted, if it wasn't for the fact that not everyone could wield it, I wouldn't have even thought of putting this thing out for sale-"

No one really understood how much value a hollow weapon holds after all.

In this day and age, humans had learned to integrate with a dead hollow's essence...but a hollow weapon?

Nah, that was in a fucking league of its own—

I could feel it; in fact, I was sure they could too.

The crowd stood still before me, some of them going as far as standing up with their mouths hung open.

Everyone's eyes locked onto the floating blade like it was staring back at them.

As if it was watching, listening and trying to decipher us.

Yeah…that's how hollow weapons were.

They don't just sit there like tools.

They exist—with will.

With hunger.

I slowly walked towards the platform edge. My boots clicking gently on the polished blackstone.

Closer now, I could hear it.

A faint hum.

But it wasn't a sound. It was a feeling. Almost like my soul was being tapped on from the inside. Like something ancient...forgotten, was knocking.

And I wasn't sure if I wanted to open that door.

"The Nekros Fang," I said again, but quieter now. "Crafted during the final phase of the Hollow Wars. A blade not forged by metal...but by a creature's death scream."

Gasps again. More of them this time.

"Back then, this weapon wasn't just made. It was forged from what was left after killing the Last Hollow King."

A merchant from the third row turned pale. He gripped his chair so hard his knuckles went white.

Another noblewoman covered her mouth, her ring glowing from a sudden rise in mana.

I gave them a moment.

Then kept going.

"This blade has no recorded owner. Its history is…missing. Some say the one who held it last was erased. Soul and all."

That wasn't a joke.

See, unlike spirit-forged weapons or mana-enhanced ones, this hollow weapon wasn't alive—but it wasn't dead, either.

...It existed in between.

A hollow weapon was more like a curse that was meant to only kill others.

I walked around the floating crystal slowly. Chains still humming with seals. They were old. Rusted in some parts. But active.

"This…thing," I said, pointing at the blade, "should not exist."

I heard one of the younger nobles whisper, "Then why do you have it?"

I smiled coldly, not turning to him.

"That's the thing about power," I said. "It shows up where people least expect it."

Truth was, even I didn't know how this blade ended up in Vault 0.

I had found it lying on the vault door:

'Use it only when the world forgets what fear feels like.'

Guess what?

We're back there now.

A strong gust of mana wind blew through the hall. Just from the blade floating. A few scrolls on the third floor caught fire. Someone's communication crystal cracked in half from pressure.

Still, no one moved.

I raised both hands again.

"This is the last of its kind. No blacksmith alive today could recreate what you're looking at. No sorcerer would even dare enchant it. This weapon…isn't for show.

It's war, in its purest form."

Another note of silence fell. But this one was darker. It wasn't to awe anymore.

It was fear. And greed. Mixed into a very dangerous cocktail.

That's when I spotted him—The old King of Jade, standing along with the members of the Romero clan as he stared desiringly at the sword itself.

Standing at the very edge of the glass balcony, arms behind his back.

His presence was like a statue carved out of old stone. Hard-lined jaw, sharp nose, and eyes that never blinked without purpose.

His emerald robes looked simple yet strong. Royal, but quiet.

The man didn't speak. Not yet. But his gaze turned to mine.

That was enough, I thought.

I turned back to the crowd.

"And what's next? You'll see. Because House Lapui doesn't just sell power. We reveal it."

Then, for the final blow…

"We expect the opening bid for Nekros Fang to start at no less than 50 million credits or an equivalent in artifact value. And that...is only one of the many requirements to bid for it."

Now that got them.

People started shouting again. Some cheered. Others cursed. One man fainted. He straight-up hit the floor like a sack of potatoes.

I didn't care.

I just stood there, smiling at the madness I'd created.

And deep down?

I loved every second of it.

They didn't understand the value of a Hollow weapon. Not fully.

But they understood that others did.

And that was enough.

I turned my back to the crystal coffin, which slowly sank back into the stage under heavy protective seals.

Above me, every screen now buzzed with House Lapui's crest and a countdown timer glowing: 00:29:59.

When I looked around again, the auction wasn't filled with fear anymore.

It was filled with fire.

Panic turned to purpose.

Terror became ambition.

And I…I had just set the entire world's stage ablaze with a single item.

As it should be.

Let them scramble.

Let them beg.

Let them sell half their kingdoms for a chance to hold the void in their hands.

Because in the end, whether the so-called Kalkis return or not…Lapui always wins.

***