Chapter 140: The Auction

"Hmm, mind telling me why someone so beautiful..." The Desire thickened the air between them, her cheeks flushing as her robes shifted to a more alluring cut. "...and powerful is just a mere guide of this auction?"

Elara laughed softly, adaptive eyes swirling violet with flecks of rose-pink mirroring his influence.

"Guide? Hardly. Like I said before.... I’m the granddaughter of the owners of this place... and this is grandfather’s way of keeping me ’busy." She sipped her wine, leaning closer, hair lengthening flirtatiously as it brushed her shoulders like liquid silver.

"But you... Ash Originat. A Ninth Calamity warrior... yet a forger of wonders, artifacts powerful enough to cause worlds to wage war... Where does a man like you come from?"

Ash chuckled, refilling her goblet with a thought—wine manifesting perfectly, the crimson liquid swirling richer than before.

"Hmm, let’s just say a small place," he said, sipping his own, the taste growing on him—warm, heady, with notes that stirred desire. "However, creating is just something I do in my free time."

His gaze held hers, Desire threading deeper—subtle, warm, intoxicating.

Elara’s blush deepened, affection surging past the spark into steady flame. She set her goblet down, leaning even closer, adaptive robes shifting to accentuate her curves without effort.

"Your... your free time?" she asked in shock, voice breathy.

’If he made such items in his "free" time, then what did he mainly focus on?’ She thought briefly before just straight up asking him.

"So, what’s your primary focus?"

Ash’s thoughts wandered for a heartbeat.

’What is my primary focus?’ he asked himself. He could say power, but that would be a lie. He knew he didn’t cultivate nearly as much as he could....

"Well, I don’t have one," he said finally, voice low and honest, eyes flickering briefly to the Nocturne section below—Liam’s form visible in the holograms.

"I’m a man of many things. One day I may slay a civilization... or a faction." His tone darkened subtly, smile sharpening as his gaze lingered on Liam. "Or one day I may be a benevolent giver? Who knows."

Elara followed his glance, curiosity deepening, but she didn’t press—instead, her hand brushed his on the table, adaptive skin warm.

"That’s... thrilling," she murmured. "You’re a bit unpredictable.... Most men here chase one path—power, wealth, legacy. And it seems like you... you chase whatever you want."

Ash turned back to her, smile softening.

"And right now?" he asked, voice teasing again. "I’m chasing good conversation. And maybe... a closer look at how those eyes change when you’re interested."

Elara’s hair curled fully now, framing her face as her robes shifted to a deeper violet hue.

"Well, they seem to change a lot around you," she admitted, voice soft.

The auction below continued—lots rising, fortunes shifting.

But in the VIP room, time slowed.

Just the two of them.

Wine, words, warmth.

Until the announcer’s voice boomed across the interconnected galaxies, amplified through the Consortium’s arrays.

"Next lot: Ultimate-rank artifact—the Starweaver Blade!"

The holographic display zoomed in on the sword—sleek, versatile star-metal that shifted shape mid-air, its edge thrumming with the intertwined Laws of Space, Stellar, and Paradox. The golem host spoke with barely contained excitement.

"This blade exceeds the limits of the Ultimate rank. It molds itself to the wielder’s will—becoming a sword, spear, whip, or scythe. Its edge consumes enemy Laws on contact, turning them into short-lived power surges. Paradox runes grant it passive, unblockable strikes!"

The hall erupted—murmurs turning to gasps, bidders leaning forward.

Bidding began fast.

"Fifty billion!"

"Seventy!"

"One hundred billion!"

Numbers soared—dragons, elves, void-beings, Eternal Clan reps throwing fortunes like pebbles.

Liam Nocturne rose in the Nocturne section, scarred face twisted in determination, aura flaring crimson.

"Two hundred billion," he declared coldly.

Counters slowed—two-ten, two-twenty.

Liam smirked. "Two hundred fifty billion."

The hall quieted—most conceding.

Then Ash’s bidder hologram activated.

He appeared—mask off, face revealed in full ethereal beauty: white hair flowing, dual-hued eyes, lighter alabaster skin glowing faintly. And with his face on display, it was only natural that all eyes were on him.

Murmurs exploded.

"Who is that?"

"Beauty like a god..."

"Those eyes..."

Liam froze, shock coursing through him and his guards. Ash may have changed, but his blood signature hadn’t—and the instant his face appeared, the Nocturnes knew exactly who he was.

Ash... he was alive again. Reborn, more otherworldly. Boldly revealing his face.

His smile was slow, playful, and laced with danger.

"Two hundred sixty billion," he bid casually.

Liam snarled. "Two hundred eighty!"

Ash leaned back in the VIP room, voice calm. "Three hundred ninety."

Liam’s aura flared—psychotic rage boiling.

"Four hundred billion!"

Silence.

The host waited.

Ash let it go—smile sharpening.

"Sold! To the Nocturne representative—Fourhundred billion mana stones!"

Cheers and whispers.

Liam’s victory—bitter.

Ash willed it silently—the moment they left with the blade, it would become a dud: Laws unraveling, power fading to nothing.

A waste of four hundred billion.

Elara watched him, eyes wide with a mix of awe and playful accusation.

"You... just toyed with him."

Ash’s smile turned playful again, fangs glinting as he raised his goblet in a mock toast.

"Hmm, did I?" he asked, voice low and teasing, leaning closer until their knees brushed beneath the obsidian table. The holographic walls flickered with the auction’s ongoing frenzy below, but the room felt smaller, the air thickening with unspoken heat.

[Master, are you going to flirt so much and forget to copy her race?] Elysia grumbled internally, her voice laced with mock exasperation.

’Eh? I figured you’d do it for me, my lovely Nexus,’ Ash replied silently. ’Once we’re done here, we’ll go fetch the last race—then step into the higher ranks of power.’

Elysia rolled eyes she didn’t have.

[As you wish.]

She activated Inspect and Conceptual Sight together—far beyond Ash’s usual copy method. Inspect captured the Eternal Adaptor bloodline in its Paragon-rank purity: supreme adaptability, form-shifting mastery, environmental resonance. Conceptual Sight delved deeper—understanding the essence, the potential, the infinite paths of change.

Then she elevated it.

Using Ash’s thousands of Laws at 100 %, the Unnamed Essence’s inevitability, and his Forger title, Elysia refined and fused: adaptability amplified to universal scales, form-shifting now rewriting existence itself, resonance extending to cosmic phenomena.

The bloodline transcended Paragon—becoming unranked, a Universal-level race capable of adapting to entire universes, morphing into any form without limit.

A seed formed in Ash’s inner cosmos—glowing silver-gold, pulsing with infinite possibility.

[Complete, Master. Eternal Adaptor bloodline elevated to Universal rank. Ready for fusion when you acquire the Seraph.]

Ash’s mental grin was feral.

’Perfect.’

The heat between him and Elara had been building—wine loosening tongues, flirtation turning to touch, Desire threading the air like invisible silk.

Elara set her goblet down, leaning across the small table, adaptive robes shifting to reveal more skin—collarbone, the curve of her breast.

Her eyes swirled violet with rose-pink flecks, mirroring the Desire he let thread the air subtly, her breath quickening. "You’re impossible to read," she murmured, leaning in until her lips nearly brushed his ear. "One moment you’re bidding wars, the next... you’re looking at me like that."

Ash’s hand moved—casual, deliberate—fingers grazing her thigh beneath the table, sending a shiver through her. Weeks of pent-up lust uncoiled, warm and insistent, his touch igniting sparks that made her adaptive skin flush deeper. "Like what?" he whispered, voice husky, thumb circling slowly.

Elara’s hand caught his wrist—not to stop, but to pull closer—her lips finding his in a kiss that started slow, exploratory, then ignited like dry tinder.

Ash responded, hand sliding up her thigh, Desire Law amplifying every sensation—her breath hitching, body arching into him. The kiss deepened, tongues tangling, her fingers threading through his white hair as she straddled his lap, robes parting like mist.

Heat built fast—his hands exploring her curves, hers tugging at his shirt, nails grazing bronze skin. Ash broke the kiss briefly, lips trailing to her neck—fangs grazing, not biting—drawing a gasp.

"Elara..." he murmured against her skin, voice rough with need.

She moaned softly, grinding against him. "Ash..."

His pants tightened, lust surging as her hand slipped lower, freeing him—cock springing hard, veined with rose-pink essence, throbbing with restrained power.