As the next item was prepared, Yun Jin noticed something different—a magical barrier shimmered to life across the stage, thick and luminous, cast by a powerful mage whose robes bore the seal of the Artisan Guild.

  He narrowed his eyes.

  "Why is the security so different this time?" he asked Henrik. "Is the item that valuable?"

  Henrik gave a quiet nod. "Half of the reason, yes. It’s one of the most valuable items we’ve ever handled..." He paused. "...but also the most dangerous."

  The atmosphere shifted. The audience sat straighter. Idle chatter died.

  And then—Anesa, the auction house manager herself, wheeled the item onto the stage. The first time she'd stepped forward all evening.

  It was a sword.

  Its design was unassuming—a plain iron blade, a golden hilt, and a single gem embedded at the guard. It lacked embellishment, lacked grandeur. But the moment it was revealed, even behind reinforced barriers, Yun Jin felt it.

  A presence.

  It pressed into the room like gravity, like a heartbeat felt through the soul.

  This feeling...

  All the muscles in his body tensed—not in fear, but in excitement. His very cells responded.

  He had felt this kind of presence only twice in his life:

  The Blood Sword of Cheonma. The Heaven-Ruling Blade of his master.

  Though fainter than those two, this sword carried the same divine resonance.

  A Divine Blade... even a shadow of one is enough to stir me like this.

  Anesa stepped forward, her voice steady, hands resting on the pedestal.

  "This is a ten-percent replica of the Legendary Hero’s Sword—verified by Master Henrik himself and the Imperial Artisan Guild."

  A collective intake of breath swept the hall.

  "Starting bid: one million gold."

  The first paddle rose within seconds.

  Then another.

  The number leapt violently: 1.2 million. 1.5. 1.8. 2 million.

  The previously restrained hall erupted into a frenzy.

  Warriors, nobles, elite adventurers—those who had stayed quiet all evening—now joined the fray.

  Luthier Veldorne's paddle rose again and again, his eyes locked on the blade with a near-obsessive gleam. He wasn't backing down.

  Yun Jin leaned toward Henrik. "What does 'ten-percent replica' even mean? And why is everyone losing their minds over it?"

  Henrik looked at him as though he'd grown a second head. "...You don't know about the Hero?"

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  Yun Jin tilted his head. "Should I?"

  Henrik sighed. "Three thousand years ago, this world faced its greatest crisis. It wasn’t just war—it was near extinction."

  "He was the Lord of All Evils—the Demon King. And the world would've ended if not for them."

  His voice dropped, reverent.

  "Six heroes. Chosen by the world itself. The swordbearer, wielder of the legendary blade. A loyal high-elf ranger. The deadliest assassin from the Shadow Order. The youngest archmage in recorded history. And our nation’s own princess—the Grand Priestess herself."

  "All born in the same era. A miracle. But one we needed."

  Yun Jin's eyes widened, and for a moment, the awe broke through his calm facade. "They sound... strong," he murmured, voice tinged with admiration and a hint of disbelief.

  "Each one could've been the strongest of any age," Henrik said. "But together, they saved everything."

  Yun Jin nodded slowly. "So what's the deal with replicas? If this one's only ten percent, why's it worth so much?"

  Henrik's tone shifted, more technical. "Some were forged using fragments of the original blade. Others by smiths who once repaired the sword and passed down the designs. Sometimes, the system itself grants the blueprint."

  "But here's the catch: unless the weapon matches the original closely, the system labels it as a zero-percent replica. That label becomes permanent."

  "So... it's a gamble?"

  Henrik nodded. "A big one. If you fail, it's worthless. But if you're right? You have something legendary. The highest confirmed replica is forty-five percent. It belongs to the commander of the Royal Knight Corps. Closest after that? Twenty-seven percent."

  Yun Jin was quiet. "The system can compare something you've never seen?"

  "With the right skill, yes. It's terrifying, isn't it?"

  Back on stage, the numbers continued to climb: 2.2 million. 2.5. 2.8. 3 million.

  The bidding began to slow.

  Only two contenders remained.

  Luthier Veldorne. And a mysterious figure cloaked in black robes. Their identity was hidden, even their voice distorted by magic.

  "Four million," said the cloaked figure.

  Luthier snapped up his sign. "Four-point-two million!"

  Gasps rippled across the hall. The remaining guests had fallen silent, either stunned or watching in awe. None dared to interrupt the duel.

  The sword was no longer just an artifact. It had become a symbol.

  "Five million!" Luthier barked, his voice cracking. He glared at the cloaked bidder. "I don’t care who you are. Bid higher, and I’ll kill you and take the sword from your corpse."

  A wave of unease spread.

  Then, with chilling calm, the black-robed figure raised their sign. "Five-point-one million."

  Luthier froze.

  He glanced to the staff. Panic etched into his face.

  "Five-point-two million!"

  Anesa raised her hand. "I'm sorry, Young Master Veldorne. That exceeds your credit limit."

  "I’m the heir of Veldorne! I don’t have a limit!"

  "You do. Even the Lord of Veldorne has a credit limit here. Please don’t embarrass yourself."

  The room turned colder.

  "You've already been granted leniency. Threatening another guest alone warrants removal. Do not overstep, dear guest."

  Even Serra, his knight, stepped forward.

  "Young Master... please. Even I cannot fight the full might of the Black Moon Auction House."

  Luthier's jaw clenched. He knew.

  They knew.

  That his position as heir was faltering. That his father planned to name his younger sister in his place. This sword was supposed to save him. Restore him. Prove him.

  But he hadn't counted on the price.

  I was supposed to win.

  Then a calm voice echoed from across the VIP section.

  "Hey."

  Luthier turned.

  Yun Jin.

  Seated with relaxed ease, wearing a smile that wasn’t quite kind.

  "If you're in a pinch," Yun Jin said smoothly, "I'll buy the elixir back. Market price—500,000 gold."

  Gasps followed.

  The very elixir Luthier had overpaid to spite him.

  Yun Jin smiled wider.

  "You overpaid out of revenge, and now you can’t afford what you truly wanted. Isn't that... ironic?"