“I completely agree with you,” Ian said happily. “Nobody will complain except the Alliance themselves if their losses continue…”
The interview ended there. Mitchell had time to shake my hand and extract a promise to video the next battle. In exchange, he promised to get at least ten million from the editorial board, if they could get exclusive rights to the footage.
I climbed out of my capsule to get some fresh air before the auction. It was easy to talk to Ian, but the realization that billions of viewers were watching me, even just a recording made my hands sweat and my voice shake. I kept wanting to curl up into a ball and hide. There he is, your Threat! Colonel would shout as he watched the interview. A sweating boy who thinks himself a god… I really regretted not putting on a template avatar—strange as it sounds, hiding like that gives confidence.
“Are you done?” Hairo asked, appearing in the doorway. “Is there still time before the auction?”
“Yeah, half an hour.”
“Follow me, kid. And put something on, we’re going outside.”
As soon as we walked outside, he asked me to extend my arm. He attached an instrument that looked like a comm to my forearm. The device’s straps tightened, fitting to the form of my arm. Initiation lines zipped across the screen, then an analysis, then numbers: blood pressure, pulse, muscle and fat index and much more. Hairo examined them, snorted.
“Healthy. Fit.”
Then he looked at the grinning Roj. That one glanced at his comm, nodded.
“Clean.”
Then Hairo turned his eyes to me and muttered: “Follow me,”—and started running! I stood struck dumb for a moment, but he shouted again and I rushed to catch up. I heard steps and the rustle of clothes behind me. I glanced back and saw Roj running behind.
We silently ran together until we reached the lake. Sweat ran off me in rivulets. My throat burned, my jaw ached. I bent double, gasped for breath. Hairo and Roj stood nearby calmly as if they hadn’t just ran half a mile.
“You’ve let yourself go, Alex,” the security officer said. “I can help you get in shape, if you want.”
“That’s… That’s alright, Mr. Morales. No need,” I coughed and spat out sticky phlegm. “I need to get back… I might be late.”
“Then let’s go,” he grinned and sprinted off toward the house.
Afraid to get lost in the forest, I ran after him. Roj ran behind me. Fire burned in my chest and pain lanced through my legs, but I didn’t give in. I nearly kept up with the veteran. I reached the house through sheer force of will, gritting my teeth and just trying not to fall over on my wobbly, disobedient legs.
“It says in our contract that were responsible for your health as well as your life,” Hairo explained when I fell onto the couch in the lounge. “And health includes physical fitness. We’re going to be training.”
Ignoring my friends’ jokes, I walked into the capsule room. It wouldn’t accept me with my racing pulse, so I tried to breathe slowly for a while as I nervously watched the clock.
Once calm, I logged into Dis.
* * *
The temple grounds were clear, but before I teleported to the Goblin League’s Auction for Special Sales, I noticed a few fresh player corpses that hadn’t yet had time to disappear, and the silhouettes of the guardians patrolling the area with Sharkon and Crash.
Grokuszuid was waiting for me and led me straight to the auction hall, where the bidders were already hidden under a Mist Veil. On the way, the goblin gave me a strict talking to for nearly being late—that would have canceled the auction, which was held under strict regulations. Apparently, such was Maglubiyet’s will. Then the ASS would have had to compensate the attendees, some of whom flew in from other continents, for their time and travel expenses. The reputation losses were something else.
Counting around thirty attendees in the hall, I remembered that I hadn’t asked Grokus whether the top clans had been invited. If not, then I might get far less than I hoped.
The bidding began quickly, without introduction. Nobody had ever been on Holdest, and apart from the item itself, there was nothing to show or tell. At my request, Ian Mitchell held off on publishing the recording of the snowy continent.
The auctioneer was brief. He greeted the bidders, quickly recited the rules of the ASS and barked:
“Let the bidding began on a single lot item: The Portal Key to Holdest continent. Use unlimited. Starting price: ten million gold!
A bright white flash lit up one of the bidders.
“I have ten million! Ten million—going once…! Bidder thirteen—eleven million…! Eleven million once…!”
I couldn’t watch. Every three to four seconds, my clan got a million phoenixes richer. I was on edge until someone decided to play for keeps.
“A hundred million!”
“A hundred million—once!” the auctioneer shouted in glee. “A hundred million—twice! A hundred million…” The goblin’s hammer froze in the air. Nobody could beat the bid. The hammer struck. “Sold! For a hundred million phoenixes to bidder number thirteen! By the will of Maglubiyet, the deal is done! The auction is now officially over, and I thank…”
The auctioneer stopped mid-sentence. His mouth stayed half open. The murmur in the hall also fell silent. Everything froze. So did I, only I didn’t realize what was happening right away. The moment sti’etched, then the world flashed, and I was already enchained in magical shackles and surrounded with an energy field.
My head brushed the ceiling of a tiny cell immersed in gloom. All my stats were down at a single point—just like at that kangaroo court Big Po and Atiyakari put on for me. The chat was disabled and my abilities were inactive. I couldn’t move, couldn’t
