Super.Dawg
patreon
Chapter 215
🕑 Added 2026-01-12 10:12:01 +0000 UTC“The first of the three skill books,” the announcer proclaimed.
His voice volume skill related voice struck the domed ceiling and came back stronger, layered with echoes that rolled through the hall like distant thunder trapped beneath stone. Conversations died mid-breath. Even the restless nobles—those who had been feigning boredom only moments ago—leaned forward as one.
“Wielded by only a handful of [Mage] with lightning variants in recorded history.”
A pause.
The lights dimmed—not into darkness, but into focus. Mana-lamps embedded in the walls shifted hue, casting pale blue and silver highlights across the circular hall. Shadows stretched. The air grew tight, prickling against the skin, as though the building itself anticipated what was coming.
“The [Lightning Bolt] Skill Book.”
The red velvet cloth was pulled away.
A sharp intake of breath rippled through the audience.
The book hovered within a transparent mana barrier, rotating slowly, reverently. Its cover was dark, almost storm-black, veins of silver-blue runes etched deep into the leather. Those runes pulsed faintly, like a heartbeat—slow, patient, powerful. Kana felt it before—the mana density around the book was higher compared to the surrounding like the skill book she got before.
“It’s the same skill book I consumed,” Suri whispered, disbelief threading her voice.
Kana nodded once. “Yes. Exactly the same.”
Her [High Awareness] flared fully now.
Heartbeats thundered in her ears. Greed rolled off the nobles like heat from a forge—sharp, metallic, hungry. Calculations flickered behind my eyes. Alliances formed and shattered in silence. This was not an auction.
This was war, conducted with smiles and raised hands.
“We’ll begin the bidding at one hundred gold,” the announcer said.
The hall exploded.
“One fifty!”
“One sixty!”
“One eighty!”
“Two hundred!”
The numbers climbed like a landslide, voices overlapping, each bid higher than the last. Hands shot up—some confident, some trembling. A noblewoman clenched her fan so tightly the lacquer cracked. A merchant’s jaw twitched as he recalculated his limits.
Kana stood from her seat.
Her movement drew attention—small at first, then spreading, most of them probably annoyed. She ignored it, stepping into the aisle toward one of the servers threading through the chaos with a silver tray. Her face was calm, composed, the expression of someone mildly inconvenienced rather than surrounded by ravenous predators.
“I’m looking for my friend,” Kana said lightly. “His name is Valdis Brack. I can’t seem to find him.”
The server hesitated. Kana simply wanted to find where Valdis was supposedly seated before because based on the way he kept repeating the same line, it must have had to do something with his seat.
“I’m sorry,” he said carefully, voice low. “We’re not allowed to disclose seating arrangements for security purposes. I hope you understand.”
Kana exhaled softly and smiled, genuine enough to be harmless. “Of course. That makes sense. Thank you anyway.”
She was planning to bribe him but he might be a little too uptight or at least he looked like one. Better to check the other servers later. She was about to return to her seat just as a voice rang out—
“Three hundred gold!”
A hush fell.
Even seasoned nobles stiffened at that number.
Moments later—
“Three-fifty.”
The tension snapped tight enough to break.
Kana went back to her seat. Unable to track the current progress of the bid, she leaned toward Suri. “How much?”
Suri didn’t look away from the stage. Her lips parted slowly. “We… we really messed up.”
Kana frowned.
Suri gulped,“It sold for four hundred gold.”
Boris froze. Then swallowed. Hard. “We could’ve bought a house.”
“Or three,” Suri muttered. “Kana… I ate four hundred gold.”
“I regret nothing,” Kana said calmly—then paused. “…maybe a little.”
Boris nodded fervently. “Why did you let Suri consume it….”
Kana’s gaze had already shifted. “Who won?”
“That old man,” Leo said quietly, nodding toward the side rows. “Looks like a merchant.”
The man rose slowly, leaning on his cane as though gravity itself resented him. His beard was thick and gray, his back bent, his movements careful—almost fragile. He lifted one hand and waved modestly to the crowd.
Applause followed. Polite. Restrained. Resigned.
Many here had lost—but not without hope.
This was only the first of three.
Kana watched the old man closely as he was given a small piece of specialized parchment, a proof that he won the bid.
A brief intermission was announced before the second skill book.
The auction hall exhaled.
Conversation returned in cautious waves, never quite reaching the careless noise of earlier. Servants flowed between rows like well-trained currents, offering drinks, polished trays glinting beneath the mana-lamps. Somewhere above, enchantments hummed softly, maintaining barriers and silence fields, their presence felt more than heard.
Suri reappeared with snacks—no one knew where she got it. She dropped back into her seat beside Leo and immediately began munching, utterly unfazed by the lingering tension. The crisp sound of her chewing stood out far more than it should have.
Kana frowned.
Leo hadn’t looked away from her once.
It wasn't a curiosity. It was attention—sharp and far too focused for comfort.
“Looks like whatever you’re doing,” Leo said quietly, “isn’t progressing the way you thought it would.”
Kana didn’t answer at first. She kept her eyes on the stage, posture relaxed, expression neutral. Only then did she speak, her voice flat. “Don’t pry. I still won’t tell you anything.”
She leaned slightly toward Suri, lowering her voice. “What happened to Valdis?”
Suri paused mid-bite, then shrugged. “Opel carried him on his back. They’re heading to the church.”
Kana stiffened just a little.
“They’re trying to get him healed,” Suri continued. “The idiot still keeps muttering the same phrase. Won’t respond to anything else.”
“I’ll update you when he recovers,” Suri added dryly. “Well. If he recovers. Honestly? I hope he doesn’t.”
Kana sighed. If Valdis wouldn’t recover, Suri’s curse might have something to do with it.
Boris returned then, sliding into the seat beside Leo with a heavy sigh, as though he’d just finished a particularly annoying chore.
“I talked to one of the servers,” Boris said. “Didn’t even flinch.”
Kana and Boris had planned for intimidation first—fear loosened tongues faster than gold. Only if that failed would bribery come into play.
Boris, as usual, had skipped straight to the expensive option. “I gave him a hundred silver coins,” Boris continued. “That did the trick.”
Kana rubbed the bridge of her nose. “Of course you did.” After hearing the bidding earlier, she felt the hundred silver coin was too small now.
“But here’s the strange part,” Boris said, lowering his voice. “That old man. The one who won the bid earlier?”
Kana looked up instantly.
“That was supposedly Valdis’ seat.”
Kana leaned back slowly, eyes narrowing as her thoughts aligned. The image replayed in her mind—the old man’s hunched posture, the careful use of his cane, the way he waved to the crowd with trembling restraint.
Weak.
Yet wealthy enough to bid four hundred gold without hesitation.
And present in a seat meant for someone else.
Kana scratched the back of her head, unease creeping in. He didn’t feel like the Phantom Thief. He is too weak… doesn’t make sense..
“He might not be the Phantom thief,” Kana said quietly to herself.
But he might become the target. Stealing from a weak old man? The phantom thief wouldn’t pass such an opportunity.
After a few moments, the announcer returned to the center of the stage, his footsteps echoing across the domed hall. He raised one hand, and the low murmur of the crowd slowly died down, as if the room itself had been commanded to listen.
“Thank you for your patience,” he said, voice carrying effortlessly without enchantment. “We now present the second main item of tonight’s auction.”
Behind him, attendants pulled away a velvet curtain.
A skill book hovered within a transparent barrier of condensed mana, rotating slowly so that every angle could be admired. Its cover was Red—deep, matte, and oddly lightless, as if it swallowed the glow of the surrounding lamps.
“[Falling Slash],” the announcer continued. “According to multiple certified appraisers, this skill may only be learned by Sword-user classes. A pure sword technique.”
A ripple moved through the audience.
Kana’s attention faltered for just a breath.
Her eyes traced the book’s surface, the way the red cover seemed heavier than it should be. She frowned slightly. The previous skill book had been a combination of black and blue. This one was red. Was it a coincidence? Or classification? She would research them later.
She forced herself back to the present.
“Opening bid,” the announcer declared, “at one hundred gold!”
“One fifty!”
“Two hundred!”
“Two fifty!”
The numbers rose like blows in a duel—quick, confident, merciless.
Kana closed her eyes halfway and let her [High Awareness] bloom again.
She wasn’t watching the stage.
She was watching the people.
Most eyes were locked onto the skill book, hunger plain and undisguised. Others flicked between rivals, measuring wealth, gauging resolve. But Kana searched for something else—someone whose gaze followed bidders. Someone already thinking beyond the auction hall.
Because a Phantom Thief wouldn’t steal under the dome. They would probably steal after.
Leo raised his hand once, then again, jaw tight as the bids climbed.
“Four hundred!”
“Four fifty!”
Leo exhaled sharply and leaned back, surrendering clear in his posture. “That’s it. I’m out.”
Kana chuckled. It was the first time she saw the upright Leo that was so frustrated. The bidding dragged on for a few more heartbeats, each pause stretching longer than the last.
“Sold!”
The announcer brought his hand down decisively.
Boris leaned forward, squinting. “Looks like the old man won the second item. Again.”
A low whistle escaped Leo. “Five hundred fifty… on top of four hundred from earlier. I thought I knew every rich figure in the kingdom.”
He frowned, eyes narrowing as he studied the man rising carefully from his seat, cane steady, movements measured. “I swear I’ve seen him before. But I don’t know where.”
“Very strange,” Leo muttered.
“I wish he was my grandfather,” Suri said dreamily.
Kana didn’t smile. Her gaze followed the old man—he had no visible body guards, the way he didn’t look back at the stage even once. No triumph. No relief. Just calm acceptance, as if this outcome had always been certain.
Kana let out a slow breath. We don’t have a clear lead but we will follow the winner for now.
…
Janus rose slowly from his seat and lifted a trembling hand in acknowledgment of the crowd.
This time, there was no applause.
The atmosphere itself felt so intense, heavy with resentment. Dozens of gazes followed him—some burning with envy, others calculating, a few openly hostile. He could feel the killing intent behind certain eyes, naked and unashamed. Wealth had limits, after all, and he had crossed them twice tonight.
Still, Janus smiled.
After a brief intermission—just long enough for servants to refresh drinks and tempers to simmer—the announcer returned once more to the center of the stage. His voice carried the weight of ceremony now, every word measured.
“And now,” he declared, “the final item of tonight’s main event.”
The hall quieted in an instant.
Behind him, a new skill book rose within its containment field. Unlike the others, this one pulsed faintly, as if resisting stillness.
“The [Gravity Zone],” the announcer continued. “An exclusive skill for [Mage]-related classes, particularly those of the support types. When activated, it creates a heavy invisible field capable of slowing enemies across a wide area.”
A low murmur rippled through the auction house.
Area-of-effect. Crowd control.
Janus’s eyes narrowed slightly.
A must have skill, it will be sold at a high price even at the black market, he thought.
Yes. This was the final piece.
“The opening bid starts at one hundred fifty gold!”
“Two fifty!”
“Three hundred!”
“Three fifty!”
The numbers rose swiftly, confidence sharpening with each call.
Janus raised his hand.
The announcer’s eyes widened just a fraction. “Five hundred gold—from the same gentleman who secured the first two skill books!”
The crowd stirred uneasily. Whispers crept like insects along the rows of seats.
Janus felt it then.
A pressure.
His gaze drifted upward toward the upper tier of the dome.
That section was sealed behind layered barriers—transparent, faintly shimmering, and dense with authority. No sounds escaped it. No faces could be seen. Yet everyone in the hall knew who sat there.
The king.
Janus clicked his tongue softly.
Of course.
“We have five hundred ten!” the announcer called.
That was enough.
Janus lowered his hand.
He could push further—he had the means—but some lines were not crossed with gold. Challenge the king openly, and he would be investigated. Watched. Hunted. And worse—his real identity would be revealed.
Royal knights were monsters in human form. He had no intention of testing himself against them tonight.
Two skill books were already an extraordinary gain.
Three would be greed. Better to be safe.
“Going once!”
“Going twice!”
No one attempted to bid after the king. The hammer struck.
“Sold! The [Gravity Zone] for five hundred ten gold!”
Around him, several attendees stood and began to leave, conversations buzzing, disappointment thick in the air.
Janus did not follow them.
Instead, he turned toward the side passage leading backstage.
He had no intention of delaying the claim of the skill books.
The king—and his royal knights—would eventually move to claim their item. Janus needed to be gone long before then. He tightened his grip on his cane and began walking, slow and unassuming or at least it looked that way.
Post note:
Poor Valdis 😂
Hope you enjoy the chap! 🙂
Comments
Saturday
Ka-Ching. Thank you for the chapter :)
