Chapter 117: Extremely Rare Treasures (2) & Brita Kuusk Stats

The anticipation in the hall reached a fever pitch as Brita gestured towards the second-to-last item. Two attendants carefully carried a velvet-covered stand onto the stage, placing it gently in the center. With a dramatic flourish, Brita pulled away the cover, revealing an object that drew gasps of awe and disbelief from the crowd.

It was a crown. Not just any crown, but a masterpiece of craftsmanship, radiating an aura of power and majesty. It was crafted from pure gold, intricately adorned with precious gems that shimmered and sparkled under the chandeliers’ light. The crown’s design was both elegant and imposing, its very presence commanding attention.

“Behold,” Brita announced, her voice filled with reverence, “the Crown of Dominion.” She paused, allowing the name to resonate with the crowd. “This exquisite artifact,” she continued, “bestows upon its wearer unparalleled charisma and influence over others. It can sway the hearts and minds of individuals, bending their will to the wearer’s desires. It can even control the actions of weaker-willed beings, making them subservient to the crown’s power.”

A collective gasp swept through the hall. The Crown of Dominion was a legendary artifact, spoken of in whispers and hushed tones. Its power was said to be immense, capable of turning even the most powerful kingdoms into puppets. The fact that it was being offered at this auction was truly shocking.

Alaric’s eyes widened as he gazed at the crown. He felt a shiver run down his spine, a sense of both awe and apprehension. ’This is… dangerous,’ he thought, his mind racing. ’The power of this crown… it’s immense. If it falls into the wrong hands, the consequences could be catastrophic.’

He turned to Rowena, his expression serious. “Considering the commotion this is causing,” he murmured, his voice low, “the price of this crown is going to be even higher than the Orb of Temporal Distortion. And just like with the orb, it would be disastrous if this falls into the wrong hands. In fact, the potential damage could be even greater.”

Rowena, Helena, and Petra exchanged serious glances, understanding the gravity of the situation.

“We have to acquire it, Alaric,” Rowena said, her voice firm. “We can’t let this fall into the wrong hands.”

“Even if we have to… take it by force?” Helena asked, her hand instinctively moving towards the dagger concealed beneath her clothing.

“If necessary,” Petra added, her dark eyes fixed on the crown. “We can’t risk letting someone use this to control others.”

Alaric nodded, his expression grim. “I agree,” he said. “But fighting here wouldn’t be wise. We’re outnumbered, and we don’t know the full extent of the Phantom Assembly’s security measures. We’ll use the tracking spells Rowena has placed. We’ll follow the winning bidder discreetly, and then we’ll take action when we’re in a more advantageous position.”

As soon as he spoke those words, the bidding for the Crown of Dominion began. The starting bid was set at ten million gold coins, and the numbers immediately began to climb. Voices echoed from the open area and the VIP balconies, each bid pushing the price higher and higher.

Rowena, her hand trembling slightly, held a small, intricately crafted compass. This compass was enchanted to detect the tracking marks she had placed on the previous winning bidders. She focused her magical energy, activating the compass, preparing to mark the new target.

The bidding war raged on, the price escalating at an alarming rate. Twenty million, thirty million, fifty million… the numbers climbed, the tension in the hall reaching a breaking point.

“One hundred million!” a voice boomed from VIP room 7.

“One hundred and twenty million!” another voice countered from VIP room 23.

“One hundred and fifty million!” a third voice echoed from VIP room 66.

The bidding continued, the price reaching an unprecedented two hundred million gold coins. The crowd gasped, their eyes wide with disbelief. This was an astronomical sum, far beyond anything they had ever witnessed at an auction.

Finally, the bidding came to a close, with VIP room 1 claiming the Crown of Dominion for the staggering sum of two hundred million gold coins.

“Two hundred million, going once… going twice… sold! To VIP room 1!” Brita announced, her voice ringing out through the hall.

Rowena, her hand still trembling slightly, focused her magical energy, marking VIP room 1 and the individuals within with her tracking spell. The compass in her hand subtly shifted, pointing towards the direction of the marked room.

“Got them,” she murmured, her voice barely audible.

Alaric nodded, his eyes fixed on the darkened balcony of VIP room 1. He knew that their mission was about to enter a new, more dangerous phase.

A hush fell over the hall as Brita gestured towards the final item. The air crackled with anticipation, a palpable tension gripping the audience. Two more attendants, their faces grim, wheeled a large, ornate chest onto the stage. It was made of dark, polished wood, bound with iron bands and etched with ominous symbols.

Brita paused, her emerald eyes sweeping over the crowd, a hint of something darker lurking beneath her usual playful demeanor. “And now,” she announced, her voice low and resonant, “we present the culmination of our auction, the final treasure, the most coveted prize of all.”

With a slow, deliberate movement, she opened the chest, revealing its contents. Inside, nestled on a bed of black velvet, lay a collection of bound documents, their pages filled with intricate diagrams, arcane symbols, and handwritten text in a language that seemed to writhe and shift before the eyes.

“These,” Brita declared, her voice now devoid of any pretense of humor, “are the Necromancer’s Research Documents.” She paused, allowing the weight of those words to sink in. “These documents contain the forbidden knowledge and experiments of an ancient necromancer, a master of the dark arts. They hold the secrets to manipulating life and death itself, to raising the dead, and commanding legions of undead minions.”

The effect was instantaneous. If the Crown of Dominion had caused a stir of excitement, this revelation plunged the hall into stunned silence. The air grew heavy, the atmosphere thick with a palpable sense of dread. Many in the audience seemed to have forgotten how to breathe, their eyes wide with a mixture of fear and fascination.

Alaric felt a chill run down his spine. This was it. This was the true purpose of the auction, the reason for all the secrecy and the high stakes. The Phantom Assembly wasn’t just selling valuable artifacts; they were distributing the seeds of chaos, the tools for widespread destruction.

’This is insane,’ he thought, his mind racing. ’They’re selling the secrets of necromancy? The power to raise the dead? This could destabilize entire kingdoms.’

He began to connect the pieces of the puzzle. The elixir, the spirit bone, the crown, the orb… each item, in its own way, had the potential to cause significant disruption and conflict. But this… this was on a different level entirely.

’They’re not just selling these items for profit,’ he realized. ’They’re trying to create chaos, to sow discord and unrest. They want to weaken the kingdoms, to create opportunities for their own agenda.’

He thought back to the previous items. The elixir could create powerful mages, the spirit bone could create powerful warriors, the crown could create powerful leaders, and the orb could give someone the ability to manipulate events to their advantage. Now, this final item could create an entire army of undead.

’They’re arming potential enemies of the kingdom,’ he thought grimly. ’They’re ensuring that these items fall into the hands of those who will use them to cause maximum damage. And this last one… it’s the key. With this, a single mage could raise an army to rival entire nations.’

He also realized something even more disturbing. The Phantom Assembly likely already possessed copies of these documents, and probably similar or even more powerful versions of the other items. They were giving away these lesser versions to create chaos, while keeping the true power for themselves.

’They’re playing a very dangerous game,’ he thought, a sense of unease settling in his stomach. ’They’re manipulating events on a grand scale, and they’re willing to sacrifice countless lives to achieve their goals.’

Despite these chilling revelations, Alaric kept his thoughts to himself. He didn’t want to alarm Rowena, Helena, and Petra unnecessarily. He also knew that for someone like him, the Phantom Assembly wasn’t necessarily an enemy. He was, after all, an Honorary Member. They wouldn’t harm him, he believed.

Still, he couldn’t completely ignore the potential danger. “Rowena,” he murmured, his voice low, “make sure you mark the buyer of these documents as well. This is… important.”

Rowena nodded, her expression serious. She understood the gravity of the situation.

The bidding for the Necromancer’s Research Documents began, and as Alaric had expected, it was a fierce and intense affair. Voices echoed from both the open area and the VIP rooms, the price skyrocketing at an alarming rate.

“Ten million!”

“Twenty million!”

“Fifty million!”

The numbers climbed, the tension in the hall reaching a fever pitch. The stakes were higher than ever before, the potential rewards and the potential consequences equally immense.

“One hundred million!”

“Two hundred million!”

“Four hundred million!”

The bidding continued, the price reaching an astronomical six hundred million gold coins. The crowd gasped, their eyes wide with disbelief. This was an unprecedented sum, a testament to the sheer power and danger contained within the Necromancer’s Research Documents.

However, amidst the intense bidding war, something unexpected occurred. As the price hovered around six hundred and sixty million gold coins, a subtle, almost imperceptible gas began to seep into the air. It started in the VIP rooms, then slowly spread throughout the entire auction hall.

At first, the gas had little effect. The attendees were too engrossed in the bidding to notice the subtle change in the atmosphere. But then, suddenly, its effects became apparent. People began to feel a strange weakness in their limbs, a tingling sensation spreading through their bodies. Their voices faltered, their movements slowed, and then, one by one, they began to collapse, their bodies paralyzed by the potent gas.

The bidding abruptly ceased, the hall falling into an eerie silence. The only sound was the soft hiss of the gas continuing to spread.

Then, figures emerged from the shadows, their faces hidden by dark hoods. They moved with a practiced efficiency, their movements swift and silent. Among them was Brita, her seductive smile replaced by a cold, disdainful expression. She was no longer wearing her revealing dress, but rather a dark robe that concealed her figure.

She gazed down at the paralyzed attendees, her eyes filled with contempt. “Fools,” she whispered, her voice laced with venom. “You thought you could acquire such power? You were nothing more than pawns in our master’s game.”

She knew that many of them had been ogling at her body, but this was a task given to her by her master, Lord Vortan. She knew that these people were important pieces in Lord Vortan’s plan, and that them leaving the auction hall with these treasures would be very important.

She then addressed the hooded figures surrounding her. “Inject them,” she commanded, her voice sharp and commanding. “Inject them all with the dark power. Make them subservient to Lord Vortan’s will.”

The hooded figures nodded, their movements precise and efficient. They moved through the hall, injecting each paralyzed attendee with a dark, viscous liquid. The liquid was a potent magical concoction, designed to bind the will of the recipient to Lord Vortan, making them his unquestioning servants.

However, there was one thing that the Phantom Assembly had overlooked. The poisonous gas had no effect on Alaric. Ever since he had fused with the Spirit and Blood Essence of the Azure Spirit Lion, his body had become incredibly resistant, almost immune to most poisons. Only the most potent toxins could affect him now, and this gas was not one of them.

~~

Alaric’s mind raced, assessing the situation. The sudden paralysis of the audience, the emergence of the hooded figures, Brita’s chilling transformation – it all pointed to a carefully orchestrated plan. ’They’re not just selling these items,’ he thought, his eyes scanning the scene. ’They’re… collecting something else. Or perhaps… recruiting.’

His gaze fell on Rowena, Helena, and Petra, their bodies slumped in their seats, their faces pale. The hooded figures were moving closer, their hands reaching for the vials containing the dark power. ’I have to act,’ Alaric thought, a surge of protectiveness coursing through him. ’I can’t let them be subjected to that.’

He knew that a direct confrontation was out of the question. He was powerful, yes, but he was outnumbered. He needed a different approach, a way to extract his companions without engaging in a full-scale battle.

His gaze settled on Brita. She was the one giving the orders, the one in charge. If he could neutralize her, he might be able to create an opportunity to escape.

He quickly accessed his Harem God System, checking Brita’s stats. The information appeared before his eyes, displayed in a clear, concise format.

[Brita Kuusk – Overall Score: 66

Appearance: 82

Personality: 59

Status: 60

Pride: 80

Strength: 49]

’Her strength is 49,’ Alaric thought, comparing it to his own level of 48. ’We’re more or less evenly matched in terms of raw power. But she has the advantage of numbers. I need to be smart about this.’

He made his decision. He would use stealth and misdirection to get close to Brita, then use her as leverage to secure their escape. He cast two quick spells, layering them seamlessly. The first was Swiftwind Step, a speed enhancement spell that would grant him incredible agility and speed. He muttered the incantation, his voice low and rhythmic:

“Whispers of Zephyr, on swift wings you fly,

Carry my footsteps, beneath the moonlit sky.

Grant me the swiftness, of the wind’s embrace,

Swiftwind Step, guide my pace.”

The second spell was Veil of Shadows, a cloaking spell that would render him nearly invisible. He chanted the words, his voice barely a whisper:

“Shadows embrace me, veil me from sight,

Hide me from eyes, in the depths of the night.

Veil of Shadows, conceal my form,

Grant me the stealth, of the silent storm.”

His body shimmered, then seemed to fade into the surrounding darkness. He moved quickly, using Swiftwind Step to propel himself through the shadows, his movements fluid and silent. He made his way towards the stage, where Brita stood, directing the hooded figures.

He knew that an open attack was impossible. The other members of the Phantom Assembly would immediately intervene. He needed a distraction, something to draw Brita away from the others.

He cast a simple wind spell, Gentle Breeze, focusing it on a small area within the stage itself. The spell was weak, barely creating a whisper of wind, but it was enough to rustle some of the decorations and create a faint, almost inaudible sound. He chanted the spell, his voice barely a whisper:

“Gentle Breeze, a whisper so light,

Stir the still air, in the quiet of night.

A gentle touch, a soft caress,

Gentle Breeze, bring forth finesse.”

Brita and the hooded figures immediately turned their attention to the source of the sound. They were startled, their expressions a mixture of confusion and suspicion.

“What was that?” one of the hooded figures murmured, his hand instinctively reaching for the weapon concealed beneath his robe.

“Continue with the task,” Brita commanded, her voice sharp. “I’ll check it out.”

She began to walk towards the source of the sound, her hips swaying rhythmically, her eyes scanning the stage.

Alaric, still cloaked in shadows, followed her silently, his movements precise and controlled. As soon as she was a short distance away from the other members of the Phantom Assembly, he cast another spell, Silent Barrier. This spell created a localized sound barrier, preventing any sound from escaping the enclosed area. He chanted the spell, his voice barely audible:

“Walls of silence, rise and conceal,

Keep within, what is meant to reveal.

No sound shall pass, no echo shall stray,

Silent Barrier, hold the noise and aura at bay.”

A faint shimmer appeared in the air around them, a subtle indication of the spell’s effect. Now, even if a full-blown fight were to erupt, no one outside the barrier would hear a thing. Alaric had isolated Brita, creating the opportunity he needed to take control of the situation.