Galactic Exchange: The Merchant Sovereign-Chapter 98: Web of Wagers

The subterranean auction chambers beneath the Starborn Consortium were unlike anything Raidan had ever seen. The walls pulsed faintly with synthetic light, tuned to the heartbeat of the chamber’s AI host. Every breath of air tasted faintly metallic, and above them, projections of starlit galaxies rotated in slow, hypnotic arcs.

Despite his calm exterior, Raidan could feel the pressure building. This was not an auction of common trade or idle wealth. This was a war of resources, reputation, and shadow power. The items on display were not simply goods—they were the kind of assets that could change the fate of civilizations or start an interstellar cold war.

The attendees were no less dangerous. Warlords, corporate sovereigns, pirate lords, technomancer clans, and system monarchs—each bore a name that could silence a room. Cloaked identities, AI decoys, and astral projectors veiled them, but Raidan’s Trader’s Intuition flickered every time an invisible gaze lingered too long on him.

He was no longer just a bold outsider from a remote sector. After the cascade of trades, the meteor deal, the Starheart crystals, and his mysterious backing from the Trader’s System, his name had started echoing even in the deeper strata of galactic power.

He was a variable they hadn’t accounted for—and variables were dangerous.

The bidding began.

The first item: The Core Matrix of a Fallen Quantum Archgod. Starting bid: 100,000 Ascendant Credits.

Raidan watched, unfazed, as the numbers soared. He had no need for such an artifact yet—its power was enormous, but unstable. More importantly, it would attract far too much attention.

Instead, he waited.

The second item: A Live Chrono-Wyrm Egg, capable of producing a time-altering beast feared by entire empires.

Again, Raidan let it pass. The attention of the room remained on the exotic, the mythical, the dramatic.

But his eyes shifted as the third item emerged.

A sealed cube, about the size of a fist. Its surface shimmered with thousands of sigils, rotating endlessly in fractal patterns. The AI host’s voice announced it:

"Lot 3: A Merchant’s Lexicon, Origin Unknown. It contains access protocols, trade languages, system-level bartering rites, and ancient negotiation rights across defunct empires. Some believe it’s tied to the Precursor Trading Dynasties, lost to time. Opening it requires both a Trader’s Bond and a consent of equivalent-value pledge."

The chamber went still. That wasn’t just a trading tool—it was a relic. A living archive of barter logic from civilizations long gone. For someone like Raidan, this was akin to gaining a divine upgrade to his system.

Bids came slowly—few dared compete over something with an unknown cost of activation. But Raidan leaned forward, letting the golden interface of his system overlay the cube.

[Merchant’s Lexicon Detected]

[Compatibility: 97.3%]

[Effect if Acquired: Expansion of Trade Interfaces / Unlock: Legacy Rites of Exchange / New Dimensions: Precursor Sectors]

[Warning: This item will trigger unseen interest upon activation.]

He knew what that meant. Acquiring it would be like lighting a flare in deep space.

But the risk?

Worth it.

"200,000 Ascendant Credits," Raidan bid.

Heads turned, silent. The bidder was marked as ’Trader-Null.17’, his anonymized identity within this auction.

"210,000," echoed a voice cloaked in deep resonance.

A technocrat from the Singularity Banks.

"250,000," Raidan countered immediately.

"300,000," the technocrat snapped.

"500,000," Raidan answered, voice level.

Silence returned. A few attendees tilted slightly toward his presence, now genuinely intrigued.

[System Alert: Spending half of reserve Ascendant Credits. Proceed?]

He confirmed. With one click, his future was reshaped.

The cube glowed faintly as the AI confirmed his winning bid.

"Lot 3 sold. Delivery and transfer protocols initializing post-session."

But that wasn’t all. As the cube vanished into stasis, the technocrat who had bid against him sent a direct encrypted message.

"Trader-Null.17, let’s meet after the auction. You and I have unfinished business now."

By the time the fifteenth lot was announced—a black market star-forging license—Raidan had secured another minor artifact: a Nexus Mirror, which allowed him to project into other trade hubs across galaxies without needing to physically travel. It wasn’t flashy, but it would allow him to be in multiple places at once—a logistical boon.

However, the auction wasn’t the only danger.

Outside the chambers, someone else was watching. In the observation spire above the vault levels, Kalar Vex—Director of Shadow Markets for the Hollow Syndicate—watched the feed on a holoscreen.

"He’s real," Kalar whispered.

The woman beside him raised a brow. "You doubted it?"

"There are dozens of Trader fakes. Claiming connections, feigning systems. But this one... he makes real trades. Real gains. Moves too fast for the others to react."

He turned toward his aide.

"Dispatch a Listening Seed to his AI. Just a passive trace. I want to know what star he warps to next."

"What if the Trader System blocks it?"

Kalar smiled. "Then we’ll know we’re dealing with the real thing. And if it doesn’t—then we own his next ten trades."

As the auction closed, Raidan exited the secure room through a dim corridor lined with silent guards in black-on-black armor. The golden cube had already been transferred into his inventory, awaiting activation. But he would wait.

He needed to be somewhere private.

However, he didn’t get far.

A figure leaned against the cold wall at the next junction. Tall, sleek armor with neon runes flowing across its chest. The technocrat.

"So, Trader," he said, stepping forward. "You’ve got the Lexicon. Do you know what it’s really worth?"

"I have an idea," Raidan replied calmly.

"Then you know that some parties would give you a planetary trade monopoly for a copy."

"I don’t sell what I haven’t opened."

The technocrat chuckled. "You’re cautious. Good. But be warned—there’s a reason no one else dared open it. The last Trader who tried vanished. No trace. Some say he was dragged into a Contract Abyss by a failed oath-binding."

"I don’t deal in rumors," Raidan said, stepping past him.

"But you deal in risk," the technocrat said with a knowing smirk. "And the higher you climb, Trader, the more the universe bets against you."

Raidan returned to his quarters aboard the Starborn station, his mind a web of unfolding calculations. He activated the cube inside a sealed chamber lined with system-insulated walls. Glyphs swirled over the object like a sleeping dragon stirring.

[Do you wish to bind the Merchant’s Lexicon? This is a permanent choice.]

He hesitated for only a breath.

"Yes."

[Initiating Bond...]

[Analyzing Value of Trader: Galactic Exchange Value Calculated — Mid-High Tier. Acceptable.]

[Unlocking Lexicon...]

A flood of data poured into his interface—spirals of glowing languages, forgotten hand signals of bartering clans, resonance codes of precursor races, encryption rites, black-market handshakes, universal escrow rituals, astral trading oaths, and more.

But with it came something else:

[Warning: Legacy Trader Signature Detected.]

[Initiating Convergence Protocol.]

"What?" Raidan frowned.

A golden hologram began forming before him—ghostlike, regal, with a merchant’s crest etched across its chest.

"You who bear the Lexicon," it said, "inherit the weight of our debts and the promise of our contracts. The last Trader of the Precursor Court fell because he opened what he could not close."

"Who are you?" Raidan asked.

"I am what remains," it said. "And your time has begun to run out."

The vision ended.

And his system pulsed with a final message:

[Precursor Debt Legacy Initiated]

[Your trades will now echo across forgotten ledgers.]

[Entities from Precursor Sectors may seek you out.]

Raiden sat back, stunned.

He had unlocked the Lexicon—but in doing so, he had awakened more than just power.

He had entered into a contract written long before the stars themselves were born.