Chapter 135- Preparation for Auction.

Chapter 135: Chapter 135- Preparation for Auction.

The forge rang steadily with the sound of hammers striking metal, over and over. Three blacksmiths working in tandem was genuinely something to see. On top of that, everyone present could draw directly from the Eternal Flame burning in the forge’s hearth within the Eternal Forge’s dimension, sharing its power freely.

They had been forging nonstop for three days straight now.

The row of finished Rare-rank items had already grown noticeably longer than it had been on the very first day Leo joined the others at the forge.

Leo had originally given himself a full seven days to finish everything.

Three days had already passed. Leo walked through the workshop, counting the completed Rare-rank pieces, and decided the current stock was more than sufficient for now.

Time to move on to Epic-rank work.

He gave the same instruction to the other two blacksmiths as well. Between them, they were each capable of forging at least one genuine Epic-rank item within the time remaining. Hugh himself was an Epic-rank blacksmith, while Sigil was closing in fast on Legendary rank. Leo, for his part, already stood at Mythic rank, at least technically.

A guild this newly formed already boasted three genuinely exceptional blacksmiths under one roof.

Leo shook his head at the thought and lifted his hammer once more.

Clang.

...

While the three of them forged, an entirely different kind of struggle was unfolding elsewhere.

Within the lightning chamber, Cindy was still locked in her own battle against the raging purple lightning. The knowledge of the circulation method sat clearly enough in her mind, but she hadn’t yet internalized it well enough to actually put it to use — and the system had yet to confirm the method had been genuinely learned.

The purple lightning surged down toward her again, and she tried desperately to circulate it the way she’d been shown, only for the strike to send her flying backward.

She gritted her teeth and pulled herself back to her feet.

The lightning guardian’s voice carried from the far end of the darkened chamber. "Circulate it. Don’t try to grab hold of it directly. Just circulate."

Cindy nodded and steeled herself to try again.

Another strand of purple lightning detached from the massive column looming overhead and shot toward her. She threw everything she had into circulating it properly this time. The current raced up her arms, split across her ribs, and discharged out through her shoulders. It struck the stone floor with a violent crack — but this time, she came away unhurt. The lightning had actually managed to circulate, at least partway, through her arms and shoulders.

The guardian walked over, examined the faint marks left on Cindy’s skin, glanced at her face, and said simply, "Again."

After several more attempts, Cindy started getting used to the repeated electrocution, strange as that was to admit. Then, on one particular attempt, as the lightning strand rushed toward her, it suddenly froze in midair.

Both Cindy and the guardian froze right along with it, equally startled. In that exact instant, Cindy had simply thought don’t come any closer while holding her hands out defensively — and somehow, the lightning had actually obeyed.

"It— it really stopped?" Cindy blurted out in disbelief.

But the moment the surprise registered, her focus slipped, and the will holding the lightning in check dissolved along with it. The strand surged forward violently, crashing into her without mercy.

"Ah—!"

She cried out and dropped to one knee, shaking the hand she’d used to meet the strike. Faint burn marks already darkened her skin.

The lightning guardian crouched beside her, took hold of her wrist gently, and turned Cindy’s gaze up toward the massive column of purple lightning looming above them.

"This is one of the three most powerful lightning strands in the entire cosmos," the guardian said slowly. "I’ve personally watched hundreds of people try to hold it. Every single one of them failed." She paused. "But you — you actually have a real chance. You’re already channeling it, commanding it, even if only in brief flashes."

Cindy shook her head. "I can’t do this."

"You can. We’ll try again tomorrow — properly, working straight through the circulation manual step by step."

...

Similarly, deep within the death vein’s chamber, the death guardian was attempting to teach the little girl, who had been carried there by the undead wolf under Leo’s instruction. That same wolf now lounged lazily near the mana well, soaking contentedly in the rich undead mana filling the space.

The guardian tried her best to interact with the girl, but the child never spoke a single word, leaving the guardian genuinely unsure whether any of it was actually getting through.

Even simple requests — stand up, do this, try that — went completely unanswered. The girl simply didn’t respond.

The guardian had, in her time, taught warriors and generals who once served under the Death Sovereign herself. But she was quickly realizing this was an entirely different problem. She had no real idea how to teach a six-year-old anything.

This was, genuinely, new territory for her.

"You’re going to be a handful, aren’t you?" the guardian sighed. The girl just blinked back at her from where she sat on the mat.

The guardian did notice one thing, though — the fear that used to linger in the girl’s eyes was gone now. At least she’s not afraid of me anymore.

"Alright. Let’s start with something simpler."

She glanced around, carved a flat section out of the cave wall, and shaped it into a makeshift blackboard, propping it up at the front of the hall. She picked up a stray bone and reshaped it into something resembling a writing pen.

She wrote a word on the board. "This means ’me’." She pointed at herself, then back at the word.

The girl watched in complete silence.

The guardian wrote a second word — you — and pointed. "This means ’you’."

The girl studied the words for a moment, then looked back up at the guardian. The guardian shook her head slightly, still unsure whether any of it was registering.

She handed the bone-pen over to the girl. "Copy it."

To her genuine surprise, the girl actually took it from her hand — the guardian had half-expected to be ignored again, just as before.

The girl finally rose, walked up to the board, and carefully copied both words — me and you — with her own hand.

The guardian stared, genuinely surprised she’d managed both.

Encouraged, she pointed at the wolf next, said the word wolf aloud, and wrote it out. The girl copied it dutifully, then pointed at the wolf herself, connecting word to object.

They kept going like that, guardian and girl steadily working through word after word.

The girl’s crooked, uncertain handwriting improved noticeably with each repetition. Before long, every time the guardian pointed at the wolf, the girl would point straight to the matching word without hesitation — and the reverse held true as well, object to word, word to object.

The girl had learned to write.

"Alright, that’s enough for today. Come back tomorrow," the guardian said, a faint, genuine satisfaction settling over her at having actually managed to teach the girl something real.

Then she froze mid-thought. I am the guardian of the Death Sovereign. I trained entire armies in my time. And here I am, teaching a six-year-old her letters.

The guardian let out a long sigh. Just as the girl was about to leave, riding Blacky’s back, she suddenly tapped the wolf’s shoulder and pointed him back toward the blackboard. The wolf obediently padded back over. The girl didn’t dismount — she simply stood balanced on the wolf’s back, which brought her just high enough to reach the top section of the board. There, she carefully carved out a new set of letters: L-E-O.

The guardian startled at the sight. "You know Leo’s name?" she asked.

For the first time, the girl actually nodded.

The guardian just stared at her for a long moment, muttering to herself, half in disbelief. "Of course you do."

The girl offered nothing further beyond that single nod. The wolf finally carried her out of the chamber, disappearing back down the tunnel with her steady on his back.

The guardian could only sigh, watching their silhouettes fade from view.

...

The days blurred together after that. Four full days had now passed since Leo and the others had first started forging in earnest.

The undead dwarf kept picking apart Hugh’s finished work, insisting piece after piece still wasn’t truly complete — pointing out that the system marking something "complete" didn’t necessarily mean it actually was.

Hugh cursed loudly, arguing back at the undead dwarf with genuine frustration.

After venting to his heart’s content, Hugh finally wandered over to Leo’s side, clicking his tongue in irritation. "Tch. That bony little runt is better than me at literally everything, and he never gets tired. It’s infuriating."

"Yeah, well, he’s undead. That tends to help," Leo pointed out.

"Damn it. Brat, teach me how to stop getting tired," Hugh demanded, practically steaming.

"Haha, I don’t think that’s something anyone can actually teach you," Leo replied.

He shook his head and picked his hammer back up, returning to his own work at the forge.

...

Meanwhile, back in the real world, Elona had logged out and was putting the finishing touches on the invitation list for the upcoming auction, including the formal invitations extended to the ancient families.

It was ten past one in the afternoon. Her office on the seventh floor still had the lights on. In front of her sat a thick stack of documents — the full plan her team had assembled, printed out and delivered for her review. It included the guest list, security arrangements, the item catalog, and the public announcement itself.

The auction wasn’t going to be a private affair. It would run as a fully open auction — accessible to the public, with anyone able to watch.

It would serve as Leo’s, her own company’s, and the Eternal Forge guild’s official introduction to the wider world.

But "anyone could participate" didn’t mean everyone could actually bid. Only verified bidders — those who had completed full registration and financial verification — would be permitted to place bids, with the sole exception of parties holding an official invitation directly from Space Z. Registration itself required demonstrable proof of genuine financial capacity, confirming a would-be bidder could actually back up whatever they offered. Beyond that requirement, though, anyone who qualified was free to register.

Elona and her team had spent considerable effort meticulously building out this entire bidding system — the eligibility criteria, the verification process, the registration framework — given that this would be the very first auction of in-game items ever held in the real world since Myth Online’s launch. There was no existing template to follow; they were building the whole structure from scratch.

Even though the auction itself would take place in the real world, the actual showcase would be broadcast live from within the game, since the in-game items obviously couldn’t be physically brought out into reality.

This particular piece was the part Elona had spent the most time planning down to the smallest detail. She needed everything to come across as fully trustworthy, and she needed word of it to reach every major group and organization that mattered.

Another staff member stepped into her office, carrying a fresh sheet of paper.

"Everything’s confirmed. The broadcast companies have signed off on the schedule."

Elona nodded, then asked, "And the major buyers?"

The staffer adjusted their glasses before answering. "Every major group has registered — the larger and smaller guilds alike, the old noble families, the Voss Dynasty, the Ashford Trust, the Chen Collective, and a good number of other wealthy independent buyers. All of them have been registered and briefed."

Elona nodded, satisfied. "Good. Now we just wait for Leo to finish the items, and announce the final date."

...