"Are you going to bid on that?" Asterion asks quietly, his gaze fixed on the floating red Skill Crystal.

Iskara shakes her head.

"No. That man said it very well—it's a Skill with little usage outside of its intended wielder. And I don't use a sword or any bladed weapon. I'd need not one, but two cutting Skills of Royal Grade or near it to make the consolidation work." She exhales softly, folding her arms. "Plus, the price is going to be obscene."

It's almost weird to hear that Iskara, the Infernal Princess and next in line to the throne of one of the three Great Races, doesn't have the funds to make this purchase.

However, when you consider how Karma works, it makes sense. The other Champions have already explained to me that relying too much on external influence will eventually bottleneck your growth and future potential.

And so, even though one would expect nobles to be swimming in their parents money, that's not the case for Champions who care much more about their long-term prospects than short-term gains.

I don't blame them, honestly. It feels like there's much more to be gained at later Ranks than maybe a little shortcut at their current Gold Rank.

The announcer proves her right almost immediately. "Initial bid—one Diamond coin!"

The entire amphitheater reacts at once. Gasps, scattered laughter, disbelief.

"One Diamond?" someone mutters near the lower balcony. "That's equivalent to a thousand Platinum coins!"

"Who starts there?!"

"That's robbery even for a Royal Skill!"

"One Diamond," I say, raising my hand.

Even Iskara, normally unflappable, narrows her eyes. "That's… insane," she says quietly. "Even for something of Royal Grade. Infernal Skills are valuable, yes, but they're volatile."

I glance at her.

"Still tempting, isn't it?"

She meets my eyes briefly, then looks away.

"For someone else, maybe. Not me."

I know who that someone is.

"One Diamond Coin," I say, raising my hand.

The announcer clears his throat, voice booming again across the amphitheater. "We have a bid for one Diamond coin—by Jacob Cloud, the Fake Champion!"

"Where did he find that kind of money?"

"He's just a Champion, isn't he? A student!"

"Impossible. Maybe the Market is favoring him."

Even from the VIP balcony, I can feel every eye in the hall shifting toward me. Lancelot sinks lower in his seat.

Then, from below, a familiar voice cuts through the noise.

"One Diamond and five hundred Platinum coins!"

Marcel.

My jaw tightens. I lean forward, resting an elbow on my knee. The crowd gasps again, louder this time. The announcer almost stumbles over his own words. "Ah—one Diamond and five hundred Platinum, from Lord Marcel Valemont!"

Lancelot mutters, "He's doing it again, Boss. You think he even knows what he's bidding on?"

"Doubt it," I say. "But he knows it's something I want."

I lift my hand again. "Two Diamond coins."

A sharp intake of breath echoes through the room. The announcer swallows hard. "Two Diamond coins for Jacob Cloud, the Fake Champion!"

Marcel doesn't miss a beat. "Two Diamond and five hundred Platinum!" he snaps, his voice carrying over the stunned silence.

I blink, leaning back. "What the hell is happening? Where is he getting that kind of money?"

Sabrina hums softly beside me. "If he's not buying for himself, his Karma won't be affected. That means his family gave it to him for this purpose."

It clicks. Of course.

Duke Dorian.

They do fear my potential.

The announcer clears his throat nervously. "Two Diamond and five hundred Platinum coins—going once!"

Marcel smirks up at me, already savoring what he thinks is victory.

I narrow my eyes. "You really want to play this game, cousin? Fine."

"Ten Diamond Coins," I say and the entire hall gasps.

"Boss," Lancelot whispers, shocked.

"Shut up. You ate that in two weeks."

Lancelot thinks about it, is about to formulate a response, and then wisely chooses silence.

"H-he doesn't have that money!" Marcel shouts from down below. "I demand him to get checked!"

A wave of voices ripples through the amphitheater at Marcel's outburst.

"He's right—ten Diamond? That's impossible!"

"No student carries that kind of wealth."

"Check him! The Hidden Market can't afford fraud."

"Who even is this boy?"

The announcer clears his throat, uncertain, when a servant appears beside him, holding a sealed scroll. The man whispers something, and the announcer's eyes widen before he reads the note.

"Ah," he says, straightening abruptly. "The Hidden Market's arbiters have confirmed the funds. Jacob Cloud's assets have been verified in full."

The silence that follows is deafening.

"What?"

"Verified?"

"That can't be right…"

"Who is this kid?"

Marcel's face below twists, the smugness draining from it completely. "You're lying!" he shouts, but his voice cracks halfway through.

The announcer's tone sharpens. "All bids verified by the Hidden Market are final. Ten Diamond coins for Jacob Cloud, the Fake Champion—going once!"

I lean forward, resting my chin on my hand, meeting Marcel's glare head-on.

"Going twice!"

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Lancelot mutters beside me, "Boss, I think he's about to spontaneously combust."

"Sold!" the announcer declares, the gavel slamming down like a thunderclap. "To Jacob Cloud, the Fake Champion!"

The hall erupts in disbelief, a dozen voices shouting questions, others laughing nervously. Even the guards posted near the walls glance at me for a moment.

"Even if they wanted to buy to resell it, no one could afford ten Diamond Coins for such a Skill," Iskara says, eyeing me carefully. "Where are you getting all this money? Is this from Rafnov's legacy?"

I shake my head.

"I have my ways," I say with a smile.

The attendants bring out the second crystal.

It's smaller than the last—dim, too.

Even the announcer looks uncertain as he takes it from its case.

"Our next item," he says carefully, "is a Skill Crystal of uncertain integrity. Recorded under the name Hell's Broken Wings. The artifact has suffered structural damage and does not appear to function in its current state. However, the seller claims it once belonged to an Infernal Archduke's legacy, and thus retains significant historic and theoretical value. Starting bid: five hundred Platinum coins."

The audience reacts with a mix of amusement and mild disinterest. A few laughs break out. Someone coughs.

Down below, Marcel's voice rings out, far too loud. "Ha! Looks like the Fake Champion's run out of money! Eight hundred Platinum!"

A ripple of laughter follows, and several heads turn up toward the VIP box.

A calm merchant's voice cuts through the noise. "Eight hundred and fifty."

Marcel grins, spreading his arms wide like a man presenting his victory. "Going once—"

"Ten Diamond coins," I say, leaning back in my chair.

The entire hall freezes.

Every sound vanishes.

The announcer's mouth opens, then closes again. He doesn't even look for other bids. He raises his hand and slams the gavel down with almost desperate relief.

"Sold!" he declares. "To Jacob Cloud, the Fake Champion for ten Diamond Coins!"

A thousand murmurs explode all at once.

"Ten Diamond again?"

"He's insane!"

"Is that number even real?"

"Who is this boy!?"

Lancelot just sighs beside me. "Boss," he mutters, "I think you broke the guy."

Down below, Marcel stands frozen mid-laugh, his face twitching between disbelief and horror.

The announcer gestures, and the attendants carry out the final crystal.

It's larger than the others—half the size of the announcer's torso—encased in glass so thick it looks like it's holding back a storm.

"Our final Skill Crystal of this set," the announcer says, his voice almost reverent. "Unlike the previous two, this one can be absorbed as is. No elaborate prequalifications. No bloodline, no catalyst, no core adjustment required. The Skill within is pure and stable—ready for immediate integration. Of course, having previous Skills in the same evolution line would make the final result much stronger."

A low murmur rolls through the hall. Even the Champions lean forward.

"This," the announcer continues, "is the Embrace of Darkness. A Royal-grade Infernal Skill designed for control and corruption. It manipulates shadow matter at the level of will, expanding through terrain, atmosphere, and living organisms. Few Skills have this kind of adaptive structure."

Perfect, King Baalrek says inside my mind, his tone low and certain. That one will fuse with your Web of Withering.

Alright.

Yet, I see Iskara clenching her teeth.

"The seller warns that the Embrace of Darkness is volatile—unstable when mishandled—but also that its potential is incredible. Starting bid: five Diamond coins!"

"Five Diamond Coins!" Iskara shouts.

The crowd stirs. The murmurs are instant—sharp, curious, awed. An Infernal bidding on a Royal-grade Infernal Skill makes sense.

I lean back in my seat, watching her.

I feel something twist in my chest. Guilt, maybe.

"Ten Diamonds!" someone shouts from another balcony.

Iskara's jaw tightens. "Twelve!"

Another beat.

"Thirteen!"

Her eyes flicker.

She exhales through her nose, low and quiet, and for the first time since I've met her, she looks… tired.

"I'm out," she says finally.

The words ripple through the hall.

"She's backing out?"

"An Infernal Princess?"

"Even she can't keep up with that bidding war."

"Thirteen Diamond Coins—that's lunacy!"

I watch her sit back, chin high, pride intact even as her hands curl into fists on her knees. Nimirea's eyes flick toward me, sharp and curious. Asterion's too—steady, assessing. Even Vyrrak glances my way, something unreadable in his expression.

I wait for the noise to fade, for the announcer to start calling the bid down. Then I raise my hand.

"Thirty Diamond Coins."

The silence that follows is absolute.

The announcer stares at me like I've spoken in another language. "Th… thirty Diamond Coins? Confirmed?"

"Confirmed."

The hall erupts.

"Thirty!?"

"Does he even have that?!"

"This boy's insane!"

"That's more than the annual yield of an entire duchy!"

Vyrrak leans forward, exasperated. "Where in the world did you get that kind of money, Cloud?"

The announcer clears his throat loudly, visibly trying to compose himself. "Thirty Diamond Coins—final offer! Going once!"

No one speaks.

"Going twice!"

He slams the gavel. "Sold—to Jacob Cloud, the Fake Champion!"

A wave of applause, disbelief, and outrage floods the room. The attendants bow deeply as they move to secure the crystal, sealing it away with a flare of runes.

The announcer exhales, sweat visible even from the balcony. "We will take a short break before proceeding to the second and final part of tonight's auction."

All the Champions get up and they all look at me weirdly.

Boomgar breaks the silence first, wiping sauce from his mouth.

"Boss man," he says, grinning, "if this Champion thing doesn't work out, you could start your own bank."

Asterion shakes his head, his massive arms crossed.

"You outbid everyone here. I didn't know you were a man of such means, Jacob."

"He's loaded," Nimirea smirks. "Good to know."

"You guys are all Earth-shattering talents who could single-handedly wring my neck in one blow. Why are you acting awkward now? Is this how I'm expected to act around you all the rest of the time?"

"Yes," Sabrina Margrave says, getting closer. "Where did you get the money? Tell us."

"You should share how such a boon found its way to you," Iskara says, her eyes still narrowed at me. "We can't borrow from our families or our Karma would be ruined. But there's no way you got this from Missions. Where did you get the money?"

They all get dangerous stares.

"Again, you guys always have the upper hand in power, status—everything. Can't a guy just get a bit of money and spend it in peace?"

But giving their stares, I guess the answer is no.

"Alright, alright. I'm doing Runic Notation on the side," I say, putting my hands up. "It's probably my main expertise."

"You're getting Diamond Coins for your Runic Notation? Who are you, the guy who's selling the perfect Skill training templates?" Vyrrak snorts.

Then, when I forget to deny it, his eyes go wide.

"Damn it, Cloud! It's you, isnt' it?!"

"Well, it's honest work," I cough.

"You're the bastard selling Platinum Skill Perfec Runic Notations at ten to fifty times the price of the damn Skill Crystals, then. I was looking to buy one because I wanted to max a Skill, but it would financially ruin me," Sabrina Margrave says with narrowed eyes. "You will provide it to me for free on the account that we're both Champions."

I'm about to complain but when I see everyone nodding along, I just cough and nod, "sure. It's Elder Karl who manages this for me. Just… I'll tell him about you guys and you can get whatever from our selection."

"So, do you have any special Runic Notation that you haven't put out on the market?" Asterion asks curiously. "Anything that could overlap with, perhaps, Highblood Skills? I could show you some vein loops and you tell me if—"

"Are you about to sell out Highblood secrets in order to get more levels, Asterion?" Vyrrak asks, raising an eyebrow.

"Well…" Asterion coughs.

"Cloud!" Vyrrak jumps in front of everyone and grabs my shoulders. "You already bought a damn Draconic Skill! I suppose you must have some expertise in them! Now, let's go, I must show you some of the Skills I've had trouble with!"

"I—"

"You shameless overgrown lizard!" Iskara says, taking my other arm. "He's been allowed by Infernal Royalty to use our Skills, if he has to share Runic Notation with someone first, it shall be me!"

They will want your help, Cloud. Soon, they will guess which Rainbow Skill you own.

It's fine, I don't mind helping them out. We've all got the same enemy. In fact, I thought about it before—maybe we should be more united, King Baalrek. The Champions and I, I mean. We need to fight monsters, so sharing some secrets isn't the end of the world.

Will you keep denying you have such a Rainbow Skill, though?

Perhaps. Just to mess with them, honestly.

Well, Jacob Cloud, if you must—

I hear the Infernal King suddenly cut himself off.

Anything wrong?

The stage.

I turn toward the stage to see a very old metal casing being shuffled around alongside other things.

You must get that at all costs… That is…

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