Chapter 1332: Jar of greed

"Wow..." Robin’s eyes flew wide open, his mouth slightly agape as astonishment rippled across his face.

The colossal plaza—built to host the most elite representatives from nearly all the major powers of the Middle Belt—had erupted into noise, urgency, and movement. What was moments ago a dignified gathering was now a simmering storm of tension and speculation.

Dozens of attendees were already leaving their seats in a hurry—not out of disinterest, but with urgent purpose. It was clear they weren’t retreating, but instead rushing off to call upon reinforcements, wealth managers, or hidden reserves of treasure.

Others stayed rooted in place, yet instantly activated their control panels, fingers dancing rapidly as they sent out encrypted messages across the middle belt.

Then there was a third group—silent, unmoving, and incredibly focused. They sat high above the rest, upon the floating clouds reserved only for the supremely powerful and ancient. Though they said nothing, their once calm faces had shifted dramatically. A shared realization now bound them together in palpable anticipation.

"We still don’t even know what the item is..." Robin said, blinking rapidly as he tried to absorb the shift in atmosphere.

"...and yet, the entire plaza has changed. The tension feels like it could split the sky."

He gave a soft, impressed whistle.

"They’re scrambling to assemble unimaginable sums of wealth—to bid on something completely unknown!"

<That’s irrelevant,>

the fairy responded immediately,

<When it comes to SS-class items, ignorance isn’t a factor. The only thing that matters is acquisition—no matter the cost.>

<Artifacts of that caliber aren’t just tools or weapons. They are generational anchors—relics capable of preserving civilizations, altering fates, and shielding entire empires from the erosion of time. You must obtain them... even if it means selling your last breath.>

Robin blinked slowly, running his hand through his hair as he mulled it over. After a short sigh, he waved his hand and summoned his control panel again. The screen flickered to life in front of him, glowing with quiet urgency as he navigated to the credit reserves page.

"...I wonder if I even have enough to buy

both

the fourth-tier Planetary Displacement Gear... and

whatever that other item

is," he murmured.

A long exhale escaped his lips.

Even

if

he had enough... even

if

the stars aligned and no one outbid him... would it even be worth it?

Winning the Planetary Displacement Gear alone would already make waves across the Middle Belt. It would bring attention, scrutiny, and envy from all corners of space. But if he were to also win the mysterious SS-tier item...?

He would invite not just attention—but

targeting.

The ire of ancient factions. The jealousy of emperors. The eyes of those who ruled from the shadows.

It would be suicide.

"Not now," he muttered. "Maybe... not ever."

<Excuse me?>

the fairy said suddenly, tilting her head in amusement.

<Buy? What do you mean buy? Didn’t you already reserve a copy for yourself?>

Robin froze.

"...What the hell are you talking about?"

His expression twisted with confusion for a heartbeat—then realization dawned, and his entire body stiffened as he slowly turned to her, eyes widening with every inch.

"Oh no. Oh

no

—tell me you didn’t. Please tell me you didn’t!"

At that exact moment, a deep, echoing voice filled the arena:

"Honored guests!"

Lord Morval’s presence once again rippled through the air like thunder wrapped in velvet.

"I believe we’ve allowed ample time for preparation. Let us begin tonight’s grand event. The auction shall now commence, starting with the first item on the list."

Immediately, the arena fell into absolute silence.

Those who had rushed off were long gone.

Those who stayed behind had fallen still, not daring to make a sound out of respect for Lord Morval’s authority.

And those who knew from the start that they had no hope of securing the SS-tier item—those with smaller clans, thinner wallets, and lesser bloodlines—they simply steeled themselves, focusing instead on the rest of the rare treasures that would be presented tonight.

"Our opening item is a Class-A artifact: a second-stage planetary-grade gear known as

The Jar of Greed

."

With a flick of Lord Morval’s hand, a glowing projection materialized in midair. It was a jar, about the size of a young child, floating elegantly above the platform. Its surface bore the painted face of a devilish grin—sly, playful, and almost... hungry.

"This artifact possesses the ability to duplicate any item placed inside it," Morval continued, lifting a single finger to emphasize his words.

"However... the time required to duplicate an item varies drastically. Some objects may be copied instantly, while others could take hundreds of thousands of years."

"It can copy

anything

!?" Robin exclaimed under his breath, his pupils dilating.

His mind was already sprinting through scenarios—applications that would make any alchemist, archmage, or weaponmaster weep with joy.

What if it could replicate ancient beast bloodlines that were nearly extinct?

What if it could duplicate stabilizers for world-catastrophe zones?

What if it could reproduce high-energy cores like Planet Embers or legendary gemstones?

Or, even more simply... what if it could copy energy pearls?

The possibilities were staggering. Limitless. Terrifyingly powerful.

...After a deliberate pause—one meant to grant the audience ample time to examine and digest the implications of the treasure presented—Lord Morval elegantly tucked one hand behind his back and calmly declared in a clear, steady voice that carried across the plaza:

"The starting price for the jar of greed is... three million energy pearls."

"..."

Robin’s brow furrowed instantly, a flicker of disbelief flashing in his eyes. His mind reflexively compared this to the earlier auction he had witnessed—the

Moonlit Steps

, a first-grade item that had opened at a humble sixty thousand energy pearls. That, too, had been held in a grand venue, but this... this was the Grand Plaza, and the

Jar of Greed

was a second-grade planetary item. yet the price was much, much higher!

Only now did he begin to understand what people meant when they spoke about the mysterious logic that governed pricing in auctions. Items weren’t judged solely by their rank, or their raw power in combat. Sometimes, an artifact with an unorthodox function—a unique application—could surpass more traditional treasures by leagues.

A second-grade weapon, for example, might start at two hundred thousand. But this wasn’t just a weapon.

This was the Jar of Greed—an artifact that could replicate any item placed inside it.

Anything.

Even other planetary artifacts.

Even rare energy sources.

Even priceless medicines, extinct resources, or bloodlines on the brink of vanishing from the cosmos.

It was a literal cheat of reality.

A flicker of blue light suddenly appeared in the air above Lord Morval, forming a translucent screen for all to see. It shimmered once, then displayed the first bid:

<3.2 million>

A soft pulse of energy followed—one of the seats in the audience momentarily glowed with a cold, pale blue hue. Eyes turned toward it in unison, but there was nothing discernible there. Whoever placed that bid had shielded their identity behind absolute anonymity. Their presence was like a whisper behind a veil.

But the quiet didn’t last long.

Up in the skies, seated on one of the floating cloud platforms where only the most elite were permitted, a lone figure raised his hand with casual grace. His voice, when it came, was dispassionate—unbothered, as though three million energy pearls were as disposable as pocket change.

"I want it. Four million essence orbs."

And with that, the game had truly begun.

Lord Morval lowered his hands behind his back and made no further announcements. From that point onward, the auction proceeded in silence—punctuated only by the occasional shimmering of numbers on the blue display as new bids rolled in.

Each bid updated automatically, whether entered through private control panels or declared aloud by voice.

Morval did not interfere. He merely watched.

What followed was a bidding war that could only be described as elegant carnage. Quiet. Tense. Strategic.

For forty minutes, the numbers continued to climb, slowly at first, then in sharper increments. At some point, multiple cloud-seated dignitaries began exchanging glances—some in amusement, others in frustration. There were whispers, curt nods, even a few faint scowls as the stakes grew higher. Entire fortunes were at play here. The

Jar of Greed

had become more than a relic—it was now a battleground of prestige.

At last, one of them made a final offer. A sum high enough to silence all further contenders.

The blue screen blinked softly... and held.

No one raised the bid again.

Silence reclaimed the arena.

Then, and only then, did Lord Morval finally take a step forward, his eyes half-lidded with a hint of amusement. He looked at the screen, then at the glowing cloud platform where the winner sat.

His voice rang with ceremonial clarity:

"Congratulations to the esteemed Royal Soulmaster Amalek on his new acquisition."

He clapped once, the sound echoing like a sharp drumbeat.

"The Jar of Greed—planetary-grade artifact, second tier—has been sold for twenty-three million, eight hundred thousand energy pearls!"

A thunderous laugh echoed from above.

"Hahaha! Wonderful! This was an excellent opportunity, Lord Morval—my gratitude!"

The Royal Soulmaster’s voice thundered down, heavy with satisfaction. He clapped, radiating delight. Already, Robin could imagine the man’s thoughts spinning—visions of profit, power, and projects made possible by a relic that could cheat the limitations of scarcity.

"Hehh~"

Robin let out a long exhale through his nose, shaking his head slightly, lips curled into a wry smile. What a monster of a tool...

He wouldn’t lie to himself—he wanted it. Badly. But he also knew his own priorities.

He’d made himself a promise before stepping into this place:

Do. Not. Draw. Attention.

Not yet. Not until the Planetary Displacement Gear was brought out. That was the real prize.

No matter how shiny the bait dangled before him—he had to wait.

"Now then..."

Lord Morval’s voice once again claimed the center of attention.

"Let us proceed to the second item of the evening."

He snapped his fingers twice, and a new image shimmered into view behind him—a holographic projection of a fearsome weapon.

It was shaped like a halberd at first glance—but upon closer inspection, it bore a closer resemblance to a war scythe. The blade curved like a wicked crescent, and its surface exuded a haunting darkness, like the light around it had been swallowed whole. Even though the projection was only an illusion, the oppressive aura it gave off felt real. Like something was watching everyone back.

The plaza stirred with unease.

Lord Morval extended a finger, pointing toward the spectral weapon behind him.

"Some of you may remember this one..."

His tone was more subdued now, almost reverent.

"The

Scythe of Dimming

—a third-grade planetary artifact."

"It bears innate elemental affinity, and is imbued with both offensive and defensive techniques derived from the Minor Law of Dimming of the Path of Death."

A few gasps rippled across the arena.

"Yes," he acknowledged with a soft chuckle, "it does appear intimidating. But let me assure you—it’s not cursed. At least... not fatally. As long as you follow the safety instructions we provide, you’ll be fine."

He gave a warm, knowing smile, then raised his voice just slightly.

"And so, we open the bidding at... two million, five hundred thousand energy pearls."