INFINITY MONEY SYSTEM: Buying My Way to the Watchers' Legion

CHAPTER 4

 

Inside the Crystal Suite, the atmosphere crackled with tension as auction staff carefully transported crate after crate of purchased items. Rare artifacts, cultivation pills, enchanted weapons—a treasure trove worth kingdoms sat stacked against the walls.

Marco stood beside the main collection, his hand resting casually on an ornate chest containing Spirit Enhancement Elixirs. "I'll take personal possession of all items," he stated calmly.

The head attendant bowed deeply. "Of course, honored guest. Everything will be transferred to your designated storage immediately."

As Marco's fingers touched each crate, a familiar chime echoed in his mind.

[Luxury Purchase Detected: Rare Cultivation Resources]

[Reward: 5,000 Luxury Points]

[Total Luxury Points: 6,000]

[New Exchange Options Unlocked]

His lips curved into a slight smile. Every gold coin spent was an investment in future power.

Isabella watched him with narrowed eyes, her ice-blue gaze analytical and cold. "You handle wealth like it's meaningless," she said, her voice devoid of warmth. "Either you're the greatest fool I've ever met, or something far more dangerous."

Marco met her stare evenly. "Money is just a tool, Lady Isabella. Tools are meant to be used."

Before she could respond, Envoy Marcus burst into the suite, his face pale and urgent. "Lady Isabella! We have a problem. Santoro Family scouts have been spotted surrounding the auction house perimeter. At least fifteen Novice Rank awakeners, plus Dominic himself."

Isabella's expression didn't change, remaining perfectly indifferent. "Expected. The Santoro Family has always been garbage that picks through others' leavings."

The rear exit of the Manhattan Grand Auction House opened onto a cobblestone alley illuminated by enchanted street lamps. Cool night air carried the scent of rain. Marco, Isabella, and Envoy Marcus emerged, followed by attendants pushing carts laden with secured crates.

They'd barely taken ten steps when shadows detached from the surrounding buildings.

Fifteen figures in dark combat gear materialized, forming a semicircle that blocked their path. Each radiated the unmistakable aura of Novice Rank awakeners—powerful enough to slaughter normal humans like cattle. Their weapons gleamed with enchantments, and hostile intent rolled off them in waves.

"Handle the periphery," Isabella commanded without looking at Envoy Marcus.

"Understood!" Marcus vanished in a blur of movement, engaging the hidden scouts attempting to flank them from rooftops and side streets. The sound of combat erupted immediately—metal clashing, magical explosions, screams of pain.

The main group remained, and their circle parted like a curtain.

Dominic Santoro strode through, his blood-red cape billowing dramatically. His handsome features were twisted into an expression of sadistic anticipation. Behind him, three more Novice Rank warriors stood ready, their combined power making the air itself feel heavy and oppressive.

"Well, well," Dominic drawled, his voice dripping with venom. "The Moretti princess and her pet beggar. How delightful." His eyes locked onto the treasure carts. "I'll make this simple, Isabella. Hand over everything you purchased tonight, and I might let you crawl away with your pathetic lives intact."

Isabella's expression remained perfectly cold, utterly unmoved. "You dare threaten me, Santoro trash? Your entire family combined couldn't produce even half the wealth my companion just spent. Know your place beneath superior beings."

Dominic's face flushed crimson. "You arrogant bitch! You think your family name protects you here? In this alley, with no witnesses?" He gestured, and his warriors began advancing. "I have eighteen Novice Rank awakeners. You're alone except for that worthless mentor and this unawakened cockroach." He jabbed a finger toward Marco. "I'll kill the garbage first, make you watch him bleed, then—"

"Enough," Isabella interrupted, her voice ice. She didn't even bother drawing a weapon. "If you want to die tonight, Dominic, I'll happily oblige. Though killing you would be like stepping on an insect—messy and beneath my dignity."

Despite her dismissive words, Dominic's warriors continued their advance, magical energy building around their weapons. They spread out in a practiced formation, cutting off all escape routes. The alley walls themselves seemed to close in, trapping their prey.

"Last chance," Dominic snarled. "Surrender the—"

Marco stepped forward.

The movement was so unexpected that everyone froze. Isabella's head snapped toward him, her eyes flashing with irritation. "Stay back, you fool. This isn't—"

"Actually," Marco said calmly, his voice cutting through the tension, "I believe this concerns my property. Allow me to handle it."

Dominic's warriors burst into mocking laughter.

"Handle it? You can't even awaken mana, you worthless piece of dirt!"

"He's going to 'handle' eighteen Novice Rank awakeners? This trash actually thinks—"

"Shut up," Dominic commanded, though his own expression showed cruel amusement. "Let the cockroach speak. I want to hear what delusion passes for bravery in his feeble mind."

Marco reached into his coat slowly, his movements deliberate. "I may not have combat ability," he admitted, "but I do have resources."

He withdrew a single scroll. It was compact, covered in intricate red runes that pulsed with barely contained energy. The moment it appeared, several of Dominic's warriors tensed, recognizing the design.

"A High-Explosion Scroll," one warrior muttered nervously.

Dominic sneered. "So what? Those scrolls are C-rank at best. They might hurt a normal person, but against Novice Rank awakeners with defensive enchantments?" He laughed mockingly. "You'd need dozens to even slow us down, you stupid—"

Marco reached into his coat again.

And pulled out another scroll.

Then another.

And another.

His hands moved in a blur, and suddenly scrolls cascaded from his coat like an avalanche. Ten. Twenty. Fifty. A hundred. They piled at his feet in an ever-growing mountain of explosive potential, each one covered in those same deadly red runes.

The laughter died instantly.

Eyes widened in horror as the pile continued growing. One hundred fifty. Two hundred. Marco kept pulling them out with the same calm indifference someone might show sorting papers.

"What the hell..." one warrior whispered, his voice cracking.

"That's... that's impossible..." another breathed.

Isabella stared, her perfect composure finally breaking into genuine shock. "How many did you—"

"Three hundred High-Explosion Scrolls," Marco stated calmly, placing the final one atop the massive pile. "Each one capable of C-rank destructive output individually." He looked up at Dominic's ashen face. "But when detonated simultaneously in an enclosed space like this alley, the combined force would rival an Elite Rank attack."

The temperature seemed to drop twenty degrees. Every single warrior took an involuntary step backward, their bravado evaporating like morning mist.

Dominic's face had gone from red to white to an almost greenish hue. His hands trembled. "You... you're bluffing. You wouldn't dare. The explosion would kill you too, you insane—"

"Would it?" Marco's voice remained perfectly calm, almost conversational. "I'm standing right next to Lady Isabella, who possesses A-rank defensive capabilities. She could easily shield herself and me from the blast." He smiled slightly. "Can you and your men say the same?"

The advancing warriors froze completely, terror replacing confidence in their expressions. Several were already backing away slowly, their survival instincts overriding loyalty.

"At this distance," Marco continued clinically, "with this quantity, even Novice Rank defensive enchantments would fail. The shockwave alone would pulverize organs. The heat would melt flesh from bone. And the magical backlash would shred your mana cores into—"

"STOP!" Dominic shouted, his voice cracking with barely suppressed panic. Sweat poured down his face despite the cool night air. His eyes darted between Marco, the mountain of scrolls, and his own terrified warriors. "You wouldn't... no one's that crazy..."

Marco's hand moved toward the activation trigger on the nearest scroll.

Every single warrior stumbled backward in terror, their weapons forgotten. Two actually dropped to their knees, hands raised in surrender.

The confident hunters had become cornered prey, frozen in absolute terror before a mountain of potential destruction that could erase them all from existence.