"1500 Tier-10 Mana Stones!"

"1800."

"2500."

The bids came rapidly, one after another, as the thousand-kilogram block of Tier-10 Geofray Starviel Clay sat in its glass box on the platform.

This was the real prize.

"Three thousand," a voice called from one of the upper booths, smooth and unbothered.

"Three thousand five hundred." Another booth, on the opposite side of the dome.

The two numbers had barely landed before a third climbed over both of them.

"Four thousand."

The hall did not laugh this time. It leaned in. Geofray Starviel Clay was a forging material of the highest grade, the kind a Phase-10 Ascension Powerhouse would kill for, and it was a full thousand-kilogram block of it. Every family with a craftsman worth the title wanted it, and the families that did not want it for themselves wanted it simply so a rival could not have it, and they could commission it to craft themselves an item or two.

’They’ve stopped pretending it’s a casual evening,’ Isalyn murmured along the link, a thin thread of satisfaction in her voice. ’Watch the numbers now. This is ours.’

Rudrean said nothing. He simply watched, cup forgotten in his hand, as the figure on the auctioneer’s display climbed.

"Five thousand."

"Five thousand five hundred."

"Six thousand," said the crimson-haired man’s booth, the curtain still drawn, his voice flat and cold through the gauze. Whatever sting his pride had taken over the broken mirror, it had not stopped him from reaching for the things that actually mattered.

"Seven thousand," another booth fired back instantly, as if the crimson booth’s entry had been an insult that demanded an answer.

"Eight thousand."

Aelira’s eyes were wide and gleaming. ’They’re throwing fortunes at our rock,’ she sent, delighted. ’Our rock. The one we dug out of a pond.’

Isalyn chuckled. ’Keep your face still, dear. You look like you want to dance on the table.’

’I do want to dance on the table.’

"Nine thousand," a booth called.

"Ten thousand Tier-10 Mana Stones," the crimson booth said.

A short hush followed that one. Ten thousand was a number that made even the higher tiers go quiet for breath. The auctioneer let it sit, savoring it, her smile sharpening.

"Ten thousand, from the honored guest. Do I hear more?"

The pace slowed after that. The reckless heat of the early exchanges cooled into something more careful, more calculating. Bidders did sums behind their eyes. Ten thousand was the line where appetite started arguing with arithmetic.

"Ten thousand five hundred," a new voice offered, cautious.

"Eleven thousand."

"Twelve."

"Thirteen thousand," the crimson booth said, and there was the faintest edge of strain under the cold now.

A pause. The auctioneer’s gaze swept the dome.

"Fourteen thousand." This was from a booth that had stayed silent the entire night, a deep and steady voice, the kind that did not raise itself because it never needed to.

The crimson booth was quiet for a long moment.

"Fifteen thousand," it said at last.

"Fifteen thousand three hundred," the steady voice answered, without hesitation, without heat. Just a flat, final wall of a number.

The crimson booth did not respond.

Whether the old man behind the curtain had laid a hand on its occupant a second time, or whether the price had simply outrun the want, no one could say. The silence stretched.

"Fifteen thousand three hundred Tier-10 Mana Stones," the auctioneer announced, her voice ringing now. "Going once. Going twice."

The light-gavel came down.

"Sold!"

A murmur of approval rolled around the hall, the appreciative noise of a crowd that had watched a true contest end well. Somewhere in the upper tiers, the winning bidder remained perfectly anonymous, a presence behind silk, and the attendants began the careful work of sealing the glass box for transport.

Rudrean let out a slow breath he had not realized he was holding.

’Fifteen thousand three hundred,’ Aelira repeated, almost reverent. ’Tier-10. For our rock.’

Isalyn chuckled. ’It pays for our husband’s mysterious obsession with the broken artifact, so I am inclined to be very happy with it.’

’Speaking of that, darling, what was that broken relic about?’

’It’s a surprise. I’ll tell you once we return home.’ Rudrean smiled faintly and set his cup down for good.

The grand finale rolled on above them as there were two more lots after theirs, but the team’s interest in the stage was finished.

The next two items were equally, if not more, valuable than the Tier-10 Geofrey Starviel Clay, and they had no intention of splurging what they just earned.

"Let’s go. We are done here."

...

The team made their way to the auction house’s settlement office.

It was a quiet, windowless hall paneled in dark wood, staffed by an attendant whose courtesy thickened noticeably the moment the Geofray Starviel Clay was tied to their seat number. A thousand-kilogram Tier-10 forging block did not come from nobodies, and the staff treated them accordingly, with the careful, slightly nervous politeness reserved for people whose backers were unknown and therefore best not offended.

"Your proceeds from lot ninety-one," the attendant said, sliding a sealed storage card across the polished table. "Fifteen thousand three hundred Tier-10 Mana Stones." A second slip followed. "Your purchase. Lot sixty-three, the Dragon Vision Spirit Mirror, at one thousand and ten Tier-9 Mana Stones."

Rudrean settled the mirror’s price without ceremony, the Tier-9 stones were a rounding error against the river of Tier-10 stones now sitting in the storage ring in his palm. The attendant deducted, confirmed, and bowed.

"The artifact has been crated and warded for transport. It will be released to you at the side gate." A pause, and then, with the faint apologetic delicacy of someone who thought the buyer might not fully understand what they had bought, the attendant added, "I should note, honored guest, that the item is certified non-functional. Its core is dead. The house makes no representation that it can be restored."

"I’m aware," Rudrean said pleasantly. "Thank you."

The attendant clearly thought him a fool, and clearly had the good sense not to show it.

Outside, at the shadowed side gate, a crate sealed in pale formation-light was wheeled out and handed over. Lyra ran a quiet hand along its ward-lines, her cat ears twitching once as her crafting sense brushed the thing inside, and a small frown crossed her face.

"It really is dead," she said softly, to no one in particular. "There’s nothing moving in there at all. Whatever it used to be, it’s been gone a long time."

"Yep." Rudrean smiled.

She glanced at him, golden eyes narrowing in that thoughtful, evaluating way she had, but she did not push.

"So," Ryzen said brightly, breaking the quiet as they walked, "We are rich. And I know you said about splitting what we earned, but frankly, we did not contribute much in the Secret Realm event. You carried us. So we don’t want an equal split."

"Yes." Rivera nodded, calm and firm. "Frankly, we don’t deserve even a single Tier-10 stone from that, but it would be a lie to say that we don’t want some. However, we’ll accept just 10% at most, and you can lower it."

"Same with me." Lyra followed up.

"Dummies, what are you saying?" Aelira playfully pouted.

"No, we won’t budge from that." Ryzen was determined, his face somber.

"Tsk, fine. Darling, distribute the stones your way." Aelira looked at Rudrean.

"Alright, since you are adamant about 10%, then take 1600 of them. Here." Rudrean split the pile into a storage pouch and gave it to Ryzen.

"As for you, here, take 3000." Rudrean turned to Lyra.

"That’s too much." Lyra frowned. "I can’t even spend them all."

"But they will be very useful to your research and craft, right?" Rudrean smiled. "You can buy whatever you want for your ongoing projects with this."

"That...is true." Lyra nodded, blinking. Her eyes were saying she could really use those, but she was still hesitating.

"Alright, good. Here you go." Rudrean directly shoved the pouch into her hand and let go.

"So, what’s the plan now?" Rivera asked.

"Now we go back home." Aelira stretched her arms. "You two should start training and spend the stones wisely to power up."

"Yes." Ryzen grinned. "These 1500 Tier-10 will last for a very long time. We’ll buy resources and get strong to perform better in the next mission."

"Mhmm." Riveran nodded, fist clenched with resolve. "We must get better."

...

With nothing left to do in the city and the night spent, the group made for the Rainstar Guild branch.

The branch hall was a clean, severe space of gray stone and pale formation-light, the Guild’s authority quietly stamped into every line of it. A clerk verified their student tokens, logged the completion of their auction business, and directed them to the transfer array at the rear of the hall, a wide ring of inlaid silver already humming with the steady, patient power of a long-distance teleportation formation.

They stepped onto it together.

The clerk keyed the destination. Light rose around them in a soundless column, the branch hall stretched and thinned into ribbons, and the world folded.

When it unfolded, they stood on the receiving platform of Rainstar Institute.

Right before they had vanished, Isalyn quietly and swiftly disappeared into the artifact’s dimension space, as her presence inside the Rain Star Institute without the student or staff card could trigger an alarm.

The team split at the platform’s edge. Lyra and the two homeworlders flew off toward the student residency, with Lyra going to her personal abode in the tower, while Rudrean and Aelira turned toward the quiet wealth of the upper city where their mansion waited.

...

The next five days, the city saw very little of them.

The doors of the mansion shut. The wards stayed drawn. Inside, the three of them simply let the rest of the world fall away.

There were long, lazy mornings that bled into afternoons, meals half-eaten and forgotten, laughter in too many rooms, and a closeness between the three of them that asked for nothing and gave everything. The doors stayed shut for good reason. What passed between them in those days was theirs alone, and the house kept its secrets.

And quietly, steadily, beneath all of it, the counter climbed.

Love Points poured in like a river that had found a new, deeper channel. The bonds between the three of them were no longer fledgling things now. Day by day, the clover-marked total LP swelled, climbing into big figures steadily.

’At this rate,’ Isalyn observed lazily, sometime on the fourth evening, her head pillowed and her eyes half-closed, ’you’ll have enough for a long string of Gacha pulls before the week is out. Including a certain dead mirror.’

Rudrean had told them about the Love-Bound Gacha’s power.

He didn’t rush to start pulling just yet.

For now, the trio was fully drowned in bliss and pleasure. 24/7.

...

On the eighth day, a message arrived.

It came through the Rainstar Network in the clean, unadorned script the senior faculty used, and the sender’s seal pulled both Rudrean and Aelira upright in an instant.

[Elder Tyoga Zelkris requests the presence of Rudrean and Aelira at his tower chamber. Come now.]

No greeting. No explanation. Just the summons.

Aelira read it over his shoulder, and the easy warmth of the past five days drained out of her face. "Elder Tyoga," she said quietly.

Isalyn rubbed her chin. "It’s safe to say that he might have connected the dots between the team and Romen’s death."

"He said, ’ Come now," Rudrean read aloud, and the words sat heavy in the room. The Elder was not a man who wasted syllables, and he was not a man who summoned without reason.

"Well, he is our protective umbrella, and. A good one at that, so you two better behave." Isalyn wryly smiled and got off the bed. "I’ll go attend the plants that grew from those seeds."

Aelira and Rudrean dressed quickly and went.