A Short While Earlier...
"Oh no...
Ohhh no!!
" Robin clasped his head between his hands, his voice a strained whisper as his eyes widened in disbelief. The verbal inferno between Lord Hedrick and Lord Zaryon was reaching critical massâeach word between them felt like a tremor shaking the very foundation of the hall.
Not long ago, his only worry had been whether his credits would be enough. But that concern had been swept away like a leaf in a storm. The
real
danger was no longer about the priceâit was about survival.
How
, in all the spiraling heavens, was he supposed to bid
against two monsters like these?
Mere minutes ago, the auction had felt manageable. Intense, yesâbut still a financial affair. Robin had been confident, even if cautiously so. He remained cloaked and concealed, perfectly hidden among the hundreds of clouded observers, his mask and anonymity shielding him from prying eyes. As long as he remained just a number on a screen, he could participate carefully.
But everything changed the moment the fairy at his side whispered their names.
Heâd felt as if something cold and ancient had reached into his chest and gripped his heart with frostbitten fingers. And then came the
real horror
âthe fairy didnât just tell him who they were... she explained why they were here. What each of them wanted. What was at stake. And how close this auction is to
igniting an actual cosmic war
.
"I shouldnât be here... I really shouldnât be here..." Robin muttered, beads of sweat forming beneath his mask despite the fact that there was
no air
in this soul-bound realm.
Desperately, he glanced around at the other cloud-seated figures. Maybeâjust
maybe
âone of the other lords or power-holders would step in. A third bidder, a wild card, could fracture the duel into something more manageable. A money fight, a gamble of resources. Something Robin could win.
But no such miracle arrived.
Every other participant sat motionless. Some leaned forward, brows furrowed with intensity, trying to calculate the fallout of the Hedrick-Zaryon conflict. Others leaned back, lips curled in amusement, watching like gleeful arsonists hoping to see the fire spread to the rafters.
"Damn it,
no oneâs moving
! No one wants to toss themselves into the furnace..." Robin pressed his fingers to his forehead until they ached.
This feeling... this raw helplessnessâit had been centuries since heâd felt like this.
That was when
Lord Morval
stepped forward, trying to mediate, trying to bring reason back to the floor. He made a generous offerâwhoever backed down would receive a lesser displacement device within two millennia.
But neither titan would yield.
The fairy fluttered excitedly, her wings buzzing like a tiny thunderclap.
<If Lord Morval can secure another artifact in just two thousand years, you could be on the list to buy it too! You wouldnât even need to fight now. This is perfect!>
"I donât have two thousand years,"
Robin hissed, his voice low. He shook his head and gritted his teeth. "And besidesâI still donât know what Lord Morval will demand in return for lifting the Curse of Eternal Stillness. What if... what if he asks for something I
canât
give? What if I end up
owing
him more than I can pay?"
The weight of that thought settled on him like a mountain.
He stepped back inside his mind, away from panic, toward resolve. His eyes sharpened behind the mask. His breathing slowed.
"No. I canât afford hesitation. Not now... If I wait, the second mission will end before it begins."
<Wait! Pleaseâjust wait a little longer!>
the fairy pleaded, her glow flickering with urgency.
<Let them finish yelling, wait until one shows weakness. If you jump in now, you could be crushed between them!>
Robin appeared that he an no longer hear anything. And with that, he made his choice.
He raised one hand, fingers trembling for a brief moment, and placed his bid without second-guessing.
Then the silence fell.
Wooooshâ
Woooooshâ
WOOOOOSHâ
A cascade of reactions erupted across the auction hall.
"Huh? Who the hell was that?!"
"Wait... thatâsâ
thatâs the one who bought the Scythe of Dimming!!
"
"Impossibleâwho would dare insert themselves
between them?
"
"That person... must be a Behemoth. Or a lunatic."
Robinâs heart pounded like a drum in his chest. He couldnât feel the airâbecause there was none. He couldnât hear his breathing, his mind was screaming.
But worst of all...
He
felt
it.
Two titanic gazes. Cold, ancient, wrathful.
The piercing stare of
Lord Hedrick
. The seething glare of
Lord Zaryon
.
Like twin divine storms, their attention turned toward his cloudânumber 100âand bore into it as if trying to
rip the very identity from his soul
.
"Hoo... Hoo...!"
If Robin hadnât been deathly afraid that fleeing might void his bidâand potentially mark him as preyâhe wouldâve already leapt from his cloud and got out of the Soul Society already.
Then came that voiceâcalm, low, impossibly steady.
"You... who are you?"
Robinâs breath caught in his throat. He turned his head slowly, unwillingly, as if resisting the pull of gravity itself.
And thereâon the adjacent glowing cloudâsat Lord Hedrick.
His body, tall and muscular. His long, unbound hair drifted weightlessly around him like strands of snow. But it was those
eyes
that locked Robin in place, wide open now, their pupils like black holes threatening to consume anything that dared meet their gaze.
"Kiiieeeeh!!"
Robinâs soul nearly leapt from his body.
And yet... Lord Hedrick didnât shout. He didnât growl.
The question was soft. Too soft.
And then, as if the situation werenât already unbearable, a burst of mocking laughter echoed from Robinâs left.
"HAHAHAHAHA!"
Lord Zaryon.
Reclining arrogantly on his cloud like a noble on a throne of thunder, Zaryon clapped his hands together, "Ahh, brilliant. Absolutely brilliant,"
Robin didnât respond to Lord Hedrick.
He couldnât.
His tongue felt glued to the roof of his mouth. His limbs were frozen. And his heart had become a war drum in his chest.
"Good.. Good.." Suddenly, Hedrick broke eye contact and turned his gaze forward, toward the raised central platform. His words rang out, slow and deliberate: "Lord Morval."
"The Soul Society has always been respected, not for its wealth nor its reachâbut for its
neutrality
. For millions of years, your name stood above suspicion, above alliances. Thatâs the only reason
any of us
tolerate you. Thatâs the only reason we play your games."
He paused, his voice dropping an octave.
"Are you now so eager to burn all that credibility today?"
Lord Morval remained still for a moment. His expressionâusually unreadableânow flickered with something like frustration. Perhaps even anger.
"Lord Hedrick, please. We understand your nerves may be strained, but thisâ"
"Donât patronize me."
Hedrickâs voice cut like a blade of ice.
"Explain. This cloudânumber 100âwho sits upon it? Every single one sitting on a cloud is showing themselves. I know them.
All of them.
But this one?"
He extended a single, accusatory finger toward Robinâs location.
"This one wields a balance of three billion pearls... and no name. No voice. No
face
."
His voice dropped lower, into a tone that felt like stone grinding against stone.
"So tell me, Lord Morvalâ Have you
invented
this bidder to manipulate the outcome?"
A hush fell across the entire realm. Even the swirling mists that formed the clouds seemed to still.
Some of the seated nobles glanced at each other nervously. A few turned paleâwell,
paler.
But Lord Morval remained still. Then, with slow, dignified precision, he raised a hand, his long silver sleeve trailing behind him like the edge of a comet.
"I will say this only once."
"The bidder in Cloud 100 is as real as you or I. That he remains masked is his right. That he chooses silence is his strategy."
His voice turned sharp and cold.
"Lord Hedrick, this approach will not work. We will not reveal the identity of a bidder who has chosen to remain hidden. Think what you will!" Lord Morfall waved his hand vigorously.
The dignity and reputation of Soul Society must never be shaken.