Chapter 401: Obsidian Sanhedrin [VII / Bonus - ]

Chapter 401: Obsidian Sanhedrin [VII / Bonus Chapter]

Rising from the bedrock was a colossal octagonal containment sarcophagus forged from solid transparent mana-crystal and reinforced with twenty-four layers of golden suppression runes.

FSSSSH!

Resting horizontally upon a floating anti-gravity dais inside the crystal sarcophagus was a massive breathtaking weapon.

It looked beautiful...

It was a Khopesh... the iconic ancient curved sickle-sword of the desert kings, but scaled up to magnificent terrifying proportions.

It was not a one-handed ceremonial sidearm, instead it was a massive two-handed sovereign greatsword measuring nearly six feet in total length.

The blade was forged from an ancient luminous golden alloy that had never been successfully replicated by modern metallurgy.

The edge was curved in the deadly shape of a diving hawk’s beak, gleaming with a brilliant polished luster that seemed untouched by the passage of centuries.

Intricate carved bind-runes were etched along the flat of the golden steel, pulsing with a slow dormant amber glow.

The long two-handed hilt was wrapped in the pristine calcified white scales of a divine desert serpent meaning it was cool and seamless to the touch.

Set into the heavy solid-gold pommel was a massive, flawless gemstone of Sun-Amber roughly the size of a fist.

Inside the translucent amber, a miniature swirling vortex of compressed golden sand spun in perpetual motion, radiating a soft hypnotic warmth.

Even sealed within twenty-four layers of suppression glass, a harmonic frequency hummed from the blade, causing tiny specks of dust and loose sand on the stage floor to vibrate in synchronized patterns.

The Chief Auctioneer stepped forward, lightly tapping the crystal surface of the sarcophagus with his knuckles.

"Unlike the previous lot," the auctioneer explained with solemnity. "Our staff shall not be channeling mana into this weapon tonight. The ancestral sellers within the surviving Kemetian bloodlines have strictly stipulated that the awakening protocol of this blade may only be initiated by its rightful buyer upon final collection!"

He turned to face the elevated VIP suites, his amplified voice booming through the silent colosseum.

"Behold the ancestral masterpiece of the First Per-aa! Historical lore dictates that during the founding wars of the Dominion, the First Per-aa channeled a fragment of his own transcendent soul directly into the golden alloy during its forging, rendering the blade a living breathing extension of his sovereign will... When the last Per-aa fell centuries later during the fracturing of the empire, this relic was secretly hidden away in vaults, preserved by the royal bloodline until this very night!"

The auctioneer raised his hands, detailing the terrifying capabilities of the ancient sword.

"This sovereign Khopesh grants its wielder command over the elements of sand, earth, and tectonic pressure... capable of manipulating geological faults and summoning blinding sandstorms capable of suffocating entire invading armies! The sun-amber pommel acts as an inexhaustible reservoir, capable of storing and discharging devastating shockwaves! And legends whisper... that to those worthy of its resonance, the blade itself whispers ancient prophecies, warnings, and the forgotten memories of the First Per-aa directly into their soul!"

The entire amphitheater stood in paralyzed breathless awe.

The Chief Auctioneer raised his gold-headed gavel high into the air, his eyes blazing with electric fervor as he prepared to ignite the greatest bidding war in the history of the Obsidian Sanhedrin.

"We commence the final bidding for the First Khopesh of the Khemet Dominion!" the auctioneer roared with his voice shaking the bedrock.

BANG!

"The starting price is Ten Billion Spirit Credits!"

The heavy gilded gavel struck the obsidian sounding block with a bone-rattling report that echoed straight through the amphitheater of the Obsidian Sanhedrin.

BANG!

The sound rolled through the colosseum like distant thunder, but for several long suffocating seconds, not a single sound answered from the thousands of masked spectators packed into the lower stone tiers.

The number that hung suspended in radiant golden glyphs above the circular stage was simply too colossal and too terrifying for the ordinary mind to fully process.

Ten Billion Spirit Credits?!

It was a figure capable of funding the defense grids of three mid-tier metropolitan districts for an entire decade.

For the rogue Lords, independent syndicate captains, and mid-tier merchant guilds seated across the lower stone benches, ten billion credits was not merely an entry bid...

It was an impenetrable adamantine wall that permanently severed them from the proceedings.

Dozens of transponder wands across Floor Tiers One, Two, and Three were slowly, quietly lowered onto velvet armrests as bidders bowed their heads in silent awe-struck submission.

Yet, high above the common floor, within the shadowed balconies of the sovereign suites, the air did not cool.

It ignited.

BZZZZT-CHUNK!

A piercing crystalline chime echoed from the eastern balcony as VIP Suite Four flared with brilliant azure light.

=========================================

[BID: VIP SUITE FOUR]

CURRENT BID: 15,000,000,000 SPIRIT CREDITS

=========================================

Before the crowd could even process the five-billion-credit leap, another chime detonated from the southern mezzanine.

BZZZZT-CHUNK!

=========================================

[BID: VIP SUITE NINE]

CURRENT BID: 22,000,000,000 SPIRIT CREDITS

=========================================

BZZZZT-CHUNK!

=========================================

[BID: VIP SUITE THREE]

CURRENT BID: 30,000,000,000 SPIRIT CREDITS

=========================================

The numbers climbed with vicious dizzying momentum.

It was no longer a standard auction... it was a brutal war of financial attrition fought between continental oligarchs, corporate directorates, and ancient bloodlines.

Every single pulse of the scoreboard erased billions of credits in the blink of an eye, the digital display flashing violently as the stakes reached astronomical heights.

Across the arena in VIP Suite Twelve, Cedric Blackwood stood gripping the mahogany railing with trembling bloodless knuckles.

His eyes were bloodshot, and burning with desperation.

Moments earlier, when his terminal had flashed a system error during the bidding war for the Tier-5 Calamity Core, he had believed his family’s credit lines were permanently frozen.

But as he frantically tapped the interface now, the display cleared... the earlier lockout had merely been a momentary data synchronization lag caused by the systems recalibrating against the massive flux of high-tier bids.

"I can still take it..." Cedric muttered, his voice cracking into a whisper as he wiped a bead of cold sweat from his lip. "The weapon... If I secure the First Per-aa’s blade, my father will forgive everything. The Council will grant me a seat on the directorate..."

He reached out, his hand shaking violently as he hovered his thumb over the terminal.

Yet, as his eyes locked onto the central scoreboard, his breath hitched in his throat.

BZZZZT-CHUNK!

=========================================

[BID : VIP SUITE NINE]

CURRENT BID: 45,000,000,000 SPIRIT CREDITS

=========================================

BZZZZT-CHUNK!

=========================================

[BID : VIP SUITE FOUR]

CURRENT BID: 55,000,000,000 SPIRIT CREDITS

=========================================

Fifty-five billion credits...

Cedric’s finger hovered over the glass terminal, completely paralyzed.

A cold creeping dread wrapped around his chest like an iron vice.

His earlier arrogant bravado began to curdle into suffocating doubt.

To push past fifty-five billion meant putting the ancestral deed to House Blackwood’s eastern mining territories on the line.

If he bid and won, he would be a hero but if he bid and another monster pushed the price higher, he would be trapped in an irreversible legal forfeiture that would ruin his lineage forever.

The more the bids ticked upward, the more his resolve crumbled into dust.

"Damn it... damn it all..." Cedric whimpered, his teeth chattering against each other as his hand slowly sank back down to his side.

The young master who had bragged about bottomless wealth was completely broken by the sheer, merciless scale of the numbers flashing before his eyes.

Down on the carpet behind him, the brown-haired maid watched his trembling back, a quiet solemn breath escaping her lips as she realized the storm of his pride had finally crashed against an immovable mountain.

BZZZZT-CHUNK!

Then came the chime that froze the blood in every vein in the room.

High above the northern mezzanine, the display of VIP Suite One... the mysterious box that had effortlessly obliterated Cedric with a forty-billion-credit hammer minutes earlier lit up with a blinding icy-silver luminescence.

=====================================================

[BID : VIP SUITE ONE]

CURRENT BID: 80,000,000,000 SPIRIT CREDITS

=====================================================

Eighty Billion Spirit Credits.

A dead tomb-like hush descended upon the entire colosseum.

VIP Suites Three, Four, and Nine instantly went pitch-black, their consoles falling silent as their delegates conceded defeat.

An eighty-billion-credit strike was not simply a bid... it was an execution order designed to clear the entire room in a single breath.

Inside VIP Suite Seven, Harper Whitmore stood rigidly before the one-way panoramic glass.

Her violet eyes were wide, the pupils dilated with an intense burning fire that seemed to crackle with raw lightning.

Her breath came in shallow rapid draws, her slender fingers digging into the brass edge of the mahogany table until the metal groaned beneath her grip.

’Eighty billion...’ Harper thought, her heart hammering against her ribs like a trapped bird.

Behind her confident exterior, a sudden cold tremor of fear rippled through her stomach.

House Whitmore’s executive committee which consisted of only herself and the High Council had authorized a colossal war chest to secure the Khopesh for themselves, but even the wealthiest sovereign conglomerates had limits.

The entity in Suite One was bidding with the casual indifference of someone who viewed tens of billions of credits as loose pocket change.

Beside her, Seraphina sat up straight on Silas’s lap, her crimson eyes narrowing into sharp slits.

"That is the power of Suite One, huh?" Seraphina murmured, her haughty voice carrying a serious edge. "Whoever sits within that chamber commands the liquidity of an entire dynasty. Harper... does your money extend far enough to challenge such a presence or do you want help? I can lend you money you know..."

Harper swallowed the dry knot in her throat. She looked down at Silas, who was watching her with calm blue eyes.

’Help?’

Silas reached out, his large warm hand covering her trembling fingers on the table, giving them a firm squeeze.

"If this is what you came here for, Harper," Silas said. "don’t hold back and take it... Don’t be afraid to ask for help either, but don’t ask from me though, I’m broke."

Harper looked at his face, looked at the confidence in his eyes, and the lingering fear in her chest instantly vanished, replaced by an explosive and reckless surge of pure determination.

A fierce radiant grin broke across her face.

"Hold onto your seats," Harper whispered.

She didn’t just tap an increment as she slammed her palm flat against the custom numerical array, keying in a figure so high that it would be spoken of in the underground markets for decades to come.

’This should keep you from keeping up...’

BZZZZT-CHUNK!

A crimson shockwave of holographic light detonated across the central ring, tearing through the darkness of the amphitheater with an authoritative roar.

’...And there goes Dad’s savings.’

=====================================================

[BID: VIP SUITE SEVEN]

CURRENT BID: 150,000,000,000 SPIRIT CREDITS

=====================================================

One Hundred and Fifty Billion Spirit Credits.

The entire colosseum did not just fall silent... it felt as though the very oxygen in the room had been violently sucked into a dimensional void.

Down on the lower tiers, several masked syndicate bosses stumbled backward out of their seats, clutching their chests in disbelieving horror.

In VIP Suite Twelve, Cedric Blackwood fell completely flat onto his back on the carpet, his eyes rolled back in his head as his mind completely shut down from shock.

And high in the northern mezzanine, inside VIP Suite One... the icy silver light flickered once, twice, and slowly dimmed into darkness.

The mysterious entity had finally conceded.

On the circular stage, the Chief Auctioneer stood trembling from head to toe, his gold-headed gavel shaking violently in his gloved hand.

He looked up at the dark, reflective glass of Suite Seven with reverent terror.

"One... One hundred and fifty billion Spirit Credits from VIP Suite Seven!" the auctioneer screamed, his voice breaking through the crowd in a hysterical crescendo. "Going once!"

"Going twice!"

BANG!

"SOLD! TO THE TITANS OF VIP SUITE SEVEN!"

The entire amphitheater erupted into a deafening chaotic roar of cheers, gasps, and hysterical shouts that shook the very bedrock of the place.

Inside VIP Suite Seven, the moment the gavel struck the podium, Harper let out a high-pitched squeal of victory.

"WE GOT IT!" Harper cheered wildly, throwing her arms into the air.

Without a single second of hesitation, the energized Lightning Lord spun around, threw herself onto Silas’s chest, wrapped both of her arms tightly around his neck, and planted a loud kiss right on his cheek.

SMACK!

Silas’s eyes widened slightly in surprise, his cheek burning with the warm, electric sensation of her lips as a helpless amused smile spread across his face.

’I can’t even say anything... She gave me money.’

Sitting directly beneath them, Seraphina’s delicate eyebrows twitched violently.

A deep, incandescent crimson blush erupted across the noblewoman’s porcelain cheeks, her red eyes narrowing into lethal daggers as she aggressively shoved Harper’s shoulder away.