The auction was silent not the silence of reverence, like hushed whispers that gossiped about an unknown man.
Not the silence of awe, as if witnessing a star being born.
No.
It was the silence of disgust and fear, thick and suffocating, pressing down on everyone present.
A human had walked in, covered in blood that seemed to gleam unnaturally under the chandeliers. His boots left wet, crimson footprints across the pristine marble floor, each step a blatant violation of the auction house's opulence. Yet, his breath was steady and measured, a stark contrast to the carnage he had left behind.
The guests—wealthy, powerful beings from across the earth, accustomed to getting their way through credits or coercion—sat frozen in their plush velvet seats. No one moved a muscle. No one dared to breathe too deeply. Even the most seasoned gamblers and backroom dealers felt a primal dread crawl up their spines.
The air itself seemed different around him, warped and distorted, as if it bent and cracked under an unseen force. The very molecules vibrated with barely restrained energy.
Power. Raw, untamed power that radiated outward like heat from a forge.
Rage. Cold, calculated rage, honed to a razor's edge.
Adam stood there.
The auctioneer, an amphibian-like creature with skin that shimmered with an oily sheen, . But tonight, all that finery couldn't mask his lack of spine as he scrambled backward, his bulbous eyes wide with panic. His voice wavered, cracking like cheap glass as he lifted trembling hands in a futile attempt to ward off the inevitable.
"G-Guards! Where are the gu—"
A voice cut through the grand hall like a monomolecular blade through flesh, silencing the amphibian's pathetic plea.
Low. Gaunt. Sharp. Each syllable was carefully enunciated, laced with an undercurrent of steel.
"I believe the auction is done for the day."
The room went still. The silence was absolute, heavier than before.
Up on a VIP balcony, overlooking the unfolding drama like a spectator at a grotesque play, a man watched with an amused smirk playing on his lips. His leg was lazily crossed over the other, revealing a polished boot that likely cost more than some planets were worth.
One hand twirled a delicate glass of crimson wine, the other resting against his chin in a pose of studied nonchalance.
His hair was streaked with gray, a subtle testament to his age, yet his dark blue skin remained impossibly smooth, defying the ravages of time and the harsh realities of the galaxy.
He wore a suit—no, something far beyond a mere suit. A custom creation, spun from materials unknown, elegant yet predatory, hugging his lean frame like a second skin. It shifted and shimmered with an inner light, suggesting hidden layers of protection and technology.
His fingers tapped idly against the glass, a rhythmic beat that echoed in the oppressive silence.
Like a king in his throne, surveying his domain with detached amusement.
Like a god among lesser beings, toying with their fates for his own entertainment.
Savan.
The auctioneer gasped, his gills fluttering in distress as he recognized the voice. "M-Mister Savan! I—I am terribly sorry for this inconceivable inc—"
"Silence."
The word wasn't shouted. It wasn't even a growl. There was no outward display of force, no theatrical flourish.
But it crushed the air out of the room, a telekinetic wave that slammed into every living thing, stealing their breath and silencing their thoughts.
The guests obeyed, their faces pale and strained. Even the most hardened mercenaries felt their resolve crumble under Savan's effortless authority.
Adam cracked his neck, the sound echoing in the stillness like a thunderclap. His muscles were tight, coiled and ready to spring, but beneath the surface, they twitched in anticipation.
He knew this wouldn't be easy.
His grin was all teeth, a predatory display that promised pain and retribution.
"Savan…" His voice was low, simmering with barely controlled rage.
"Get the fuck down here."
A slow, mocking smile curled Savan's lips, revealing teeth that were perhaps a little too sharp, a little too perfect.
He had been expecting this confrontation, perhaps even looking forward to it.
Then, without hesitation, he stepped onto the balcony railing—
—And let himself fall.
Gasps rippled through the hall, a collective intake of breath as the assembled elites watched in disbelief. Was this arrogance? Suicide? Or something far more sinister?
But he landed like a feather, defying gravity and all expectations.
No impact. No noise. The only evidence of his descent was the faint displacement of air.
Just grace, an effortless display of control that bordered on the supernatural.
Adam moved first, shattering the fragile peace with an explosion of violence.
A blur of motion—he lunged, telekinesis flaring, a visible wave of energy rippling outward from his body.
A dozen knives lifted from the display cases around the auction house, their sharp edges glinting menacingly under the golden chandeliers. They were crafted from rare alloys and infused with ancient technologies, each one a deadly work of art.
Then—
He fired.
A storm of steel, shooting forward with blinding speed—a perfect kill shot, aimed to incapacitate or kill. Each blade was guided by his will, seeking out vital points with deadly accuracy.
Savan sighed, as if mildly inconvenienced by a bothersome fly.
One word.
"SHATTER."
The knives turned to dust, disintegrating in mid-air as if struck by some invisible force. The fine particles swirled and dissipated, leaving no trace of their former existence.
Adam's eyes narrowed, his expression hardening.
He had anticipated resistance, but this was beyond anything he had expected.
"That is a bullshit ability." He couldn't help but admit, a hint of grudging respect in his voice.
Savan gave a slight nod, acknowledging the compliment with a hint of amusement.
"Many have said that before."
'Tsk.' Adam's mind raced, calculating his options. 'I can't get close. Not yet.' Savan's ability made a direct assault suicidal. He needed a new approach, a way to disrupt his opponent's control.
Fine.
Plan B.
He bolted toward the auction stage, vanishing behind the heavy red curtains. The velvet fabric billowed in his wake, momentarily concealing his movements.
From the shadows, his telekinesis reached out—
Chairs. Bottles. The remains of a grand piano, a shattered testament to the auction house's opulence. Anything he could weaponize, anything to create a distraction.
One by one, he hurled them, each object a projectile of focused rage.
A sword. "Shatter." The blade crumbled into powder before it could reach its target.
A spear. "Shatter." The shaft splintered and dissolved, leaving only empty air.
A wine bottle. "Shatter." The glass shattered into harmless fragments.
A piano—
Savan's lips parted, anticipating another effortless dismissal—
…Nothing.
The piano kept falling, its massive bulk defying Savan's power.
BOOM.
Wood and metal exploded outward, sending splinters flying in all directions. The sound reverberated through the hall, shaking the very foundations of the building. A thick dust cloud billowed outward, swallowing Savan's silhouette in a swirling vortex of debris.
"…Finally." Adam exhaled, a mixture of relief and anticipation in his voice. He had hoped to catch Savan off guard, to exploit a weakness in his seemingly impenetrable defense.
But then—
A hand.
A shift in the dust cloud, a subtle disturbance in the swirling debris.
The piano was pushed aside, its shattered remains scattered across the stage.
Savan emerged, coughing slightly, but otherwise unharmed.
His smile? Unbroken.
Adam's smirk vanished, replaced by a look of genuine surprise.
"The hell?" He muttered, struggling to comprehend what he was seeing.
Savan dusted his sleeve with a dismissive gesture.
"Most assume I am physically weak." He stated, his voice tinged with amusement. "They assume my power lies solely in my ability."
Adam spat on the ground, a gesture of defiance and disgust.
"Slimy bastard."
Then—he attacked, abandoning all pretense of strategy.
A blur of motion—Adam flashed forward, speed inhuman, blade in hand. He moved faster than the eye could follow, a whirlwind of lethal intent.
The knife sliced through air—aimed at Savan's throat.
"Shatter."
The steel crumbled before it could touch Savan's throat, the blade dissolving into harmless dust.
But Adam was already behind him, his movements too fast to be tracked.
His fist shot forward—
A direct hit, connecting with Savan's back with bone-jarring force.
Until—
Savan whispered, his voice barely audible above the ringing in Adam's ears.
"Shatter."
The world collapsed, reality itself twisting and contorting around Adam.
Adam's vision twisted, the auction house tilting at impossible angles.
His chest caved in, lungs compressed, ribs on the verge of snapping under an invisible weight.
His ears ruptured—a sharp, agonizing pain bursting through his skull, sending him reeling.
Blood dripped from his nose, a crimson testament to the devastating force he was facing.
His bones creaked under an invisible force, threatening to shatter into a million pieces.
His knees buckled, and he struggled to maintain his balance.
He staggered back, gasping, struggling to breathe in the suddenly thin air.
Savan stood there.
Hands in his pockets. Watching. His expression was unreadable, a mask of detached curiosity.
"How does it feel…"
Adam coughed blood, the metallic taste filling his mouth.
"…To be fooled?"
Silence.
Then—
Laughter.
Low. Rough. Pain-filled. The sound echoed through the hall, a defiant challenge in the face of overwhelming power.
Adam wiped the blood from his mouth, smearing it across his cheek.
His grin?
Feral. Unhinged. He was beaten, battered, and on the verge of collapse, but his spirit remained unbroken.
"You think that's enough?"
He spat crimson onto the marble floor, a final act of defiance.
Savan raised an eyebrow, a hint of something that might have been surprise flickering in his eyes.
Adam cracked his knuckles, the sound a prelude to the storm that was about to break.
His body trembled—but his aura surged, a visible manifestation of his indomitable will.
Round Two.
Begin.
End of Chapter