Chapter 402: Obsidian Sanhedrin [VIII / Bonus - ]

Chapter 402: Obsidian Sanhedrin [VIII / Bonus Chapter]

"Cease this vulgar undignified display of public affection at once!" Seraphina snapped sharply, her melodic voice trembling with flustered indignation as she smoothed down her phoenix-silk gown. "You have secured what you wanted, Harper! There is no justification for slobbering over my future Husband like a wild beast!"

"He’s my date tonight, Princess! I can kiss him whenever I want!" Harper laughed unrepentantly, sticking her tongue out before turning to Silas with a radiant breathless smile. "Come on, handsome. Let’s get out of this box and head down to the private retrieval chambers before the crowd starts a riot..."

Seraphina gave a haughty delicate sniff, though she gracefully rose from Silas’s lap and extended her hand to allow him to stand.

"For once, the woman speaks sense. We should collect our acquisitions and vacate this establishment."

Down on the central stage, the colossal crystal sarcophagus containing the glowing Khopesh smoothly sank into the subterranean mechanism with a deep hydraulic hiss.

The Chief Auctioneer bowed so low his porcelain demon mask nearly touched the red obsidian floor with his amplified voice echoing across the roaring arena.

"The midnight session of the Obsidian Sanhedrin is officially concluded! We extend our deepest gratitude to all honored patrons! The master perimeter blast doors are now unlocking... Guests with standard claim tokens may proceed to the Great Lower Retrieval Hall! Patrons occupying private VIP suites are cordially directed to the private high-tier retrieval chambers corresponding to your suite numbers! May the shadows favor your path!"

Outside VIP Suite Twelve, the heavy iron door slammed open with a violent concussive crash.

SLAM!

Cedric stormed out into the plush, emerald-carpeted corridor like a rabid dog.

His tailored gale-silk suit was rumpled, his slicked-back blond hair was sticking out in sweaty tufts, and his handsome face was twisted into a beet-red mask of pure malice.

"Young Master, please! Stop!" his maid pleaded frantically, rushing out behind him with her hands clasped to her chest. "You cannot cause a disturbance here! The Sanhedrin’s sovereign enforcers will—"

"Shut up! Shut your worthless mouth!" Cedric roared, deaf to reason.

The humiliation of losing every single lot, combined with the agonizing memory of that slap in Weaver’s Spire and the crushing realization that he had achieved nothing all evening, had driven him completely insane.

He marched straight down the private hallway, stopping directly before the towering, dark-iron double doors of VIP Suite Seven.

"OPEN THIS DAMN DOOR!" Cedric screamed, raising his fists and hammering violently against the reinforced iron panels.

THUD! THUD! THUD!

"I know who you are! You think you can hide behind a numbered suite and mock House Blackwood?! Come out here and face me, you cowardly vermin! I will have my father execute your entire bloodline! OPEN UP!"

CREAK... CLICK!

The heavy dark-iron latch disengaged with a smooth oiled click as the massive door slowly swung inward.

Cedric’s bloodshot eyes flared with murderous rage. Without even looking to see who stood in the threshold, he coiled his right arm, channeling a violent gust of green wind mana around his knuckles, and threw a full-force bone-shattering punch straight toward the doorway.

"DIE, YOU BAS—"

SWISH!

The strike never landed.

Standing in the doorway was not a frightened bidder, but the senior Floor Butler of the Obsidian Sanhedrin... the tall silver-masked elder in the immaculate black tailcoat who had escorted Silas’s group hours earlier.

With the effortless fluid grace of a retired shadow assassin, the butler simply tilted his head two inches to the left, allowing Cedric’s mana-infused fist to whistle harmlessly through empty air.

Before Cedric could even register the miss, the butler pivoted on his heel, with his posture completely straight, and brought his polished leather dress shoe forward in a compact accurate upward snap directly between the young master’s spread thighs.

CRUNCH-THWACK!

The impact was sickeningly solid.

Cedric’s pale gray eyes instantly bulged out of his skull until they looked ready to pop from their sockets.

His mouth formed a silent gaping ’O’ of incomprehensible agony.

Every single drop of color drained from his face in a microsecond, replaced by a sickly greenish-white hue as his vocal cords completely seized up.

THUD!

Cedric collapsed straight onto his knees, curling into a tight pathetic fetal ball on the emerald carpet while clutching his groin with both hands, letting out a series of high-pitched breathless wheezes.

"Heeek... huuuugk... m-my..." Cedric choked, tears and snot streaming down his contorted face as he writhed in the dust.

The butler smoothly adjusted the cuffs of his white silk gloves, looking down at the groveling noble scion through the eyeholes of his silver crow mask with chilling disdain.

"House Thorne or otherwise," the butler spoke in a calm voice that carried the cold weight of an executioner’s axe, "the laws of the Obsidian Sanhedrin are absolute. Any assault upon our staff or violation of private suite thresholds is met with immediate physical correction... Be grateful I utilized regular force rather than a void-severing strike, Young Master Blackwood. This suite is vacant and the patrons departed through the private lift three minutes ago."

The butler turned on his heel, stepping back into the corridor and vanishing into the shadows without another word.

"Young Master!" the maid gasped, rushing over and dropping to her knees beside him. "Are you alright?!"

"I’ll... kill him..." Cedric wheezed through clenched teeth, trembling uncontrollably as he clutched his crotch. "I’ll kill... every single one of them..."

BRRRRRRR-CHIME!

Suddenly, a loud clear ringtone echoed through the corridor.

Cedric flinched, groaning in agony as he reached into his inner suit pocket with trembling sweaty fingers.

The dampening wards had disengaged as the master blast doors opened, restoring full cellular and network coverage across the whole place once more..

Flashing brightly on the glowing glass screen of his smartphone was the terrifying caller ID.

[LORD BLACKWOOD]

Cedric’s heart skipped three consecutive beats.

A sudden desperate hope flared in his mind.

If he explained that the auction house workers had assaulted him, his father would deploy House Blackwood’s private military to level this entire facility.

Cedric frantically swiped the screen, pressing the phone to his ear with a trembling hand.

"F-Father!" Cedric cried out, his voice cracking into a pathetic tearful whimper. "Father, you have to send the execution legion right now! The staff here in the underground market assaulted me! A butler kicked me, and the delegates in Suite Seven—"

"Silence," a deep frigid voice interrupted from the other end of the line.

The voice was cold and completely lacking any sort of paternal warmth.

That was the voice of a ruthless clan patriarch who cared only for power and territory.

"I did not contact you to listen to the pathetic whimpering of a spoiled child," Lord Blackwood stated flatly. "The High Council has just received the encrypted broadcast of the grand finale lot... Did you secure the First Khopesh of the Khemet Dominion?"

Cedric froze.

The air in his throat turned to solid ice. His hands began to shake so violently that the phone nearly slipped from his fingers.

"I... Father, listen to me, there was a monster in Suite Seven who bid one hundred and fifty billion, and Suite One—"

"Answer the question, Cedric," his father’s voice dropped. "Did you secure the weapon? Yes or no?"

Cedric swallowed the bitter bile rising in his throat, his voice dropping into a tiny humiliated squeak.

"...No."

BEEP.

The line went dead.

Cedric stared blankly at the dark screen of his phone, his mouth hanging open in utter disbelief.

His father hadn’t even waited for an explanation... He had simply discarded him like a piece of worthless trash.

Down on the floor beside him, the maid slowly lowered her head, looking away to hide the quiet satisfied smile spreading across her lips.

’Thank you whoever was here in Room 7...’

Deep within the secluded fortified VIP part of the facility, Silas, Harper, Seraphina, and Reginald stepped out of the private glass lift and entered Private Retrieval Room Seven.

The room was vast, elegant, and secured behind twelve inches of enchanted adamantine plating.

The walls were lined with glowing runic arrays that hummed with soft azure light, maintaining a completely stable environment.

Standing behind a polished black-quartz counter in the center of the room was a stunning senior receptionist wearing a flawless silver-embroidered velvet dress and white silk gloves.

The moment the group crossed the threshold, she bowed with deep, impeccable grace.

"Welcome, esteemed patrons of VIP Suite Seven," the receptionist greeted them with a melodic voice. "I have the immense privilege of managing the final settlement and item transfer for your acquisitions tonight... Before we disengage the containment arrays, we must formally process the consolidated transaction ledgers."

She tapped her glass console, projecting two glowing holographic balance sheets into the air before them.

The first ledger displayed the items on one side.

[The Twin Phantoms of the Mist: 35,000,000 SC]

[The Tear of the Slumbering World: 45,000,000 SC]

[Astral Void-Titanium Alloy (8-Ton Shipment): 70,000,000 SC]

[The Scepter of the Dune-Sovereign: 65,000,000 SC]

[70-Piece Frost-Drake Battalion Armor & Spear Set: 120,000,000 SC]

[The Tide-Bringer of the Leviathan’s Wake: 1,500,000,000 SC]

[The First Khopesh of the Khemet Dominion: 150,000,000,000 SC]

[TOTAL LEDGER: 151,835,000,000 Spirit Credits]

The second ledger displayed the items claimed on the other side too. It had been reported that they wanted it separated and the Receptionist did just that.

[The Primordial Will of the Blazing Chimera (Tier-3 Beast Will): 100,000,000 SC]

[Ancient Void-Chrysolite Jewelry Set (Spousal Tribute): 50,000,000 SC]

[Phoenix-Ash Alchemical Crucible (Ancient Relic): 75,000,000 SC]

[TOTAL LEDGER: 225,000,000 Spirit Credits]

"Please note," the receptionist added with a polite professional smile, "as per the sovereign charter of the Obsidian Sanhedrin, all bids are legally binding upon the fall of the gavel... Failure to settle the authorized balance results in immediate asset liquidation and permanent bounty placement."

"We are well aware of that," Harper said with a radiant confident smirk.

She stepped straight up to the terminal, pulled her sleek black House Whitmore executive corporate card from her pocket, and pressed it firmly against the glowing transaction scanner.

BEEP-BEEP-CHIME!

A brilliant cascade of golden light erupted from the terminal as the credit balance cleared instantly, verified through the direct reserve vaults of the Lord Association Building’s primary treasury.

Beside her, Reginald stepped forward with silent dignified grace. Seraphina had returned the card because she wanted him to do it.

The veteran butler retrieved the black military executive card of House Bloom from his coat, tapping it against the second scanner.

BEEP-BEEP-CHIME!

The two hundred and twenty-five million credit balance flashed green and cleared in a fraction of a second.

"Both accounts have been settled in full," the receptionist beamed, bowing deeply. "Allow me to present your acquisitions."

She turned, waving her gloved hand toward the back of the room.

HUMMMMM!

With a smooth hum, the reinforced wall behind the counter parted, revealing seven individual velvet-lined anti-gravity pedestals, each bathed in a focused column of soft white light.

Silas, Harper, and Seraphina walked forward, their eyes taking in the breathtaking array of sovereign treasures.

Harper walked straight past the smaller pedestals, her violet eyes locking onto the central octagonal crystal display case resting at the very back.

Inside the case lay the colossal, six-foot golden Khopesh.

The hawk-beaked blade gleamed with an ethereal warm luster and its hieroglyphic bind-runes pulsing with slow amber light.

The sun-amber gem in the solid-gold pommel swirled with miniature golden sandstorms, radiating a gentle hypnotic warmth that brushed against Harper’s skin even through the glass.

Harper reached out, her slender fingers gently touching the smooth, cool surface of the crystal case with a soft smile touching her lips.

"It’s truly magnificent," Harper whispered softly.

The receptionist walked over, stopping respectfully beside the case.

"Indeed," the receptionist smiled. "The internal appraisal cabal has finalized the archival translation... The weapon’s true, ancient sovereign title, etched into the First Era records of the Khemetian royal family, is The Per-aa’s Judgment."

She reached into her coat, producing a delicate gold-inlaid runic key.

"The full soul-bonding and activation sequence is embedded directly within the blade’s core array," the receptionist explained. "The moment you withdraw the weapon from the containment glass and introduce your spiritual mana, the binding trial shall initiate."

Harper tilted her head, her violet eyes gleaming with sharp curiosity.

"Can we verify its authenticity before we leave?" Harper asked, looking at the receptionist. "I don’t doubt your establishment’s appraisal, but like that pirate saber earlier... I want to feel the true weight of its strength."

"Of course," the receptionist nodded with confidence. "The containment glass is equipped with an external conduit... If you place your palm flat against the central amber rune on the glass and channel a single, concentrated drop of your own mana, the sword will respond with a pulse."

Harper took a breath.

She placed her right palm flat against the glowing amber rune etched into the center of the crystal case.

’Haah... It can’t be that bad.’

She focused her internal core, sending a tiny delicate thread of purple lightning mana through her fingertips.

FZZZZT.

The moment the lightning mana made contact with the rune—

BOOOOOOOOOOM!

The golden blade of The Per-aa’s Judgment flared with an incandescent burst of pure solar-gold light.

SHUUUUUUU!

A colossal surge of ancient mana detonated outward through the glass.

In a fraction of a microsecond, an overwhelming spiritual vision of an endless, burning desert beneath three blazing suns flooded straight into Harper’s consciousness.

The deafening primeval roar of a million slaughtered rift beasts echoed directly inside her skull, accompanied by the crushing suffocating weight of a thousand-mile sandstorm pressing against her lungs.

"O-OH...!" Harper gasped with her entire body violently flinching backward.