Ethan and Congressman Thompson entered the Silver Tier gallery. This room was smaller, more hushed, and the air was thicker with anticipation.

The second part of the auction began. Unlike the general theater, a small, heavily armed security team stood around the perimeter, and a dazzling woman, scantily clad in a revealing short dress, entered the center podium, her attire leaving little to the imagination.

"Gentlemen, welcome to the collection of true rarity," the auctioneer announced, his voice smooth and theatrical.

The first item was presented: a young, robust Black man of about eighteen. He was introduced as a "fallen prince" from an African province, a narrative designed to heighten his perceived worth. He looked strong, his jaw clenched, his gaze fixed on the floor, the picture of humiliation.

"Behold, Lot 201: A living sculpture of power and resilience! His physique is unmatched, his lineage noble, and he is fully unbroken and ready for service. We open the bidding at $2 million!"

The auctioneer then paused. "Before the bidding commences, for those new faces joining us tonight, please take a moment to inspect the merchandise."

Several bidders, including a monstrously obese man sitting near the front, stood up. They approached the young man, touching his muscles, examining his teeth, and treating him with the detached curiosity usually reserved for livestock. Ethan felt a cold fire ignite in his chest, but he maintained his blank facade.

Before any bids were placed, the auctioneer cleared his throat. "To ease the minds of our newer collectors: rest assured, all our transactions are fully regulated by the World Slavery Authority. He then held up a sheaf of papers, a metallic symbol, and a specialized collar. "With this Authority Mark, no matter where your property goes, or if they attempt escape, all world governing bodies are obligated to hunt them down and return them. Furthermore, each acquisition comes implanted with a global-spanning tracker. You may bid with absolute peace of mind."

A financier in the back row opened the bidding at $2 million. "Two point five!" "Three million!" The fat man near the front grunted. "Four million!" "Four point two!" The bidding intensified, fueled by lust for power and status. The young man's perceived lineage made him a symbol of conquest. "Four point three million!" "Four point five million!" The auctioneer watched the tension rise. "Four point five million going once... twice... Sold! To the gentleman in the second row for $4.5 million!"

Next came a delicate-looking princess from the Middle East. Her introduction emphasized her exotic background and previous seclusion.

"Lot 202: A flower from the desert, raised in unparalleled luxury and now yours for the taking! Starting bid, $5 million!" "Seven million!" a European industrialist shouted. "Nine million!" a voice from the back called out. "Ten million!" The bidding rapidly escalated into the double digits. "Twelve million!" a bidder near Ethan announced. "Twelve and a half!" The industrialist was sweating. "Thirteen million! Final offer!" "Sold!" the auctioneer declared, slamming the gavel. "For $13 million!"

Then, the lights dimmed slightly, focusing a harsh spotlight on the next "item."

Ethan's world stopped.

"And now, gentlemen, we present Lot 203: A true pearl of unrivaled innocence and beauty! A young, pristine child, only six years of age. This young lady is a certified virgin, never touched, never spoiled. Her past is spotless, and there are absolutely no outstanding claims to her ownership."

Emily was led onto the podium. She was dressed in only a small, two-piece swimsuit, looking utterly terrified. She began to cry, but her tears, far from invoking sympathy, merely drew predatory smiles and hungry looks from the men watching. They licked their lips in sickening anticipation.

Ethan's hands balled into fists under the table, and tiny, powerful arcs of electricity began to flash beneath his skin. He was ready to unleash hell.

[Calm down, Master. This is not the place for an uproar. We are being watched.]

Ethan froze at the System's internal communication. The System loved chaos and destruction and would usually encourage him to dive headfirst into trouble. If it was warning him off, the threat was real—something or someone here could actually kill him.

"You almost sound worried about me," Ethan thought, suppressing the lightning. "Tell me the truth, did seeing the Amethyst Master truly affect you that much?"

The System didn't respond, but Ethan felt a ripple of genuine silence. He wasn't stupid; it seemed the System wasn't as inhuman as it pretended. It was afraid of being left alone.

Ethan sighed. "Very well," Ethan murmured. "If brute force is not an option, then we will have to use money. I just robbed Axhel of $200 million. I doubt that will be insufficient."

The auctioneer began the bidding. Emily was undeniably beautiful, like a porcelain doll, and her age and proclaimed innocence made her an object of intense desire.

Ethan took a deep breath, his facial expression hardening into the cold, depraved mask of the bidders around him. He had to play the part to save her from these monsters.

The current bid stood at $5 million. Ethan raised his paddle and instantly doubled it. "$10 million," he called out.

The obese man who had bid previously, clearly annoyed by the intervention, doubled the bid again "$20 million!".

Ethan didn't even look at him. He shouted, "50 million!"

His posture made it clear he didn't care about the money; he was determined.

Another man, older and imposing, raised his paddle. "Young man, what if you let this old man take her? I'll owe you a favor... $100 million."

Ethan didn't understand. What the hell is going on? Why are they so obsessed with her? The other slave went for less than $5 million, and she's already at $100 million! These are millions of dollars!

"I don't need any favor," Ethan declared. "She is mine. $150 million!"

The old man narrowed his eyes, furious. "Tch! 300 million!" he yelled. "She is very important to me, young man, so you had better think carefully about the consequences!"

"$500 million," Ethan said, not bothering to look at the old man.

The old man let out an angry "Tch!" but finally lowered his paddle, defeated.

Thompson, sitting next to Ethan, was utterly shocked by the speed and the exorbitant price. That price would bankrupt any ordinary company.

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