Rise of the Peerless God of War

Chapter 24

The information came in a scribbled note, passed to Draven by a nervous first-year student.

"Someone paid me to give you this," the kid said before scurrying away like he'd delivered a bomb instead of a folded piece of parchment.

Great. Now I'm getting secret messages. Because life wasn't complicated enough already.

Draven unfolded the note carefully, half-expecting it to burst into flames or release some deadly poison. Instead, he found a simple message written in elegant script:

"Echo Heart fragment. City auction house. Tonight."

Just eight words, but they hit him like a physical blow.

Echo Heart fragment? There are more pieces?

The pendant against his chest warmed slightly, as if responding to the mere suggestion of its kin. Ever since returning from Sakura Valley, the Echo Heart had been more active, more responsive to his thoughts and emotions.

Like it knows something I don't.

"What's that?" Jin asked, appearing beside him in the academy courtyard.

Draven quickly folded the note and slipped it into his pocket. "Nothing important."

Jin raised an eyebrow. "You're a terrible liar, you know that?"

Yes, I know that. It's one of my many charming qualities.

"I've got to check something out in the city tonight," Draven said, keeping his voice casual.

"Great, I'll come with—"

"Alone, Jin." Draven cut him off more sharply than he intended. "I need to do this alone."

Jin's face fell slightly, but he nodded. Since their return from the valley, they'd all been different—stronger, more confident, but also more driven by individual purposes. The War God's power had changed them in ways they were still discovering.

"Be careful," Jin said finally. "Whatever it is."

Careful. Right. Because that's how my life has been going so far.

The city auction house was exactly the kind of place Draven had spent his life avoiding—opulent, exclusive, dripping with the kind of wealth that made you painfully aware of every copper coin in your own pocket. Security guards in crisp uniforms stood at every entrance, checking invitations with practiced efficiency.

Definitely not walking through the front door.

Draven pulled his hood lower, obscuring his face as he circled the building. Captain Marcus Hale's memories provided useful intel on the typical security layout of wealthy establishments. Most focused their resources on public entrances while leaving service areas relatively unguarded.

There. Loading entrance. Two guards, probably bored and underpaid.

The infiltration was easier than expected. A careful application of the stealth techniques he'd absorbed from the academy heroes, and he was inside, moving through corridors where servants bustled carrying trays of expensive refreshments.

Following the sound of a gavel and polite applause, he found his way to a small balcony overlooking the main auction floor. Below, elegantly dressed patrons sat in plush chairs while a smartly dressed auctioneer presented items on a raised platform.

"Next item, ladies and gentlemen, a collection of enchanted quills from the library of Archmage Veridian."

Draven scanned the crowd, looking for anything suspicious. Wealthy merchants, minor nobility, a few people whose magical auras marked them as practitioners of various arcane arts. Nobody who screamed "Shadow Moon Sect agent."

So who sent me that note?

For nearly an hour, he watched as magical artifacts, rare books, and exotic curios changed hands for sums of money that could have fed an entire village for a year. Nothing that seemed connected to the Echo Heart.

This was a waste of time. I should—

"Our next item comes with quite the fascinating history," the auctioneer announced, his voice dropping to an enticing murmur. "A fragment of the legendary Echo Heart pendant."

Draven froze.

The auctioneer gestured, and an assistant brought forward a small velvet cushion. On it lay a jagged piece of silver metal, small enough to fit in a closed fist. Even from the balcony, Draven could see ancient runes carved into its surface—runes that matched those on his own pendant.

The Echo Heart against his chest suddenly burned hot, almost painfully so. Not the gentle warmth of recognition—this was urgent, demanding.

It's real. It's actually a fragment of the Echo Heart.

"The Echo Heart, for those unfamiliar with the legend," the auctioneer continued, "was said to allow its bearer to communicate with the dead. This fragment was discovered in the ruins of an ancient battlefield and has been authenticated by three independent magical authorities."

Communicate with the dead. That's putting it mildly.

Draven's hand moved unconsciously to his chest, feeling the outline of his own pendant. Was it possible that the Echo Heart had once been larger? A complete artifact that had somehow been broken?

"Bidding will start at five thousand gold imperials."

A murmur ran through the crowd. Even for this wealthy audience, that was an extraordinary sum.

"Five thousand," called a voice from the front row.

"Six thousand," countered another.

The bidding escalated quickly, the fragment's price climbing to astronomical heights. Draven watched, his mind racing. He needed that fragment, but he had about twenty gold coins to his name.

I could try to steal it.

The thought came unbidden, accompanied by memories of infiltration techniques and security countermeasures absorbed from academy heroes who hadn't always operated on the right side of the law.

No. That's not who I am. That's not what this power is for.

But as the bidding reached fifteen thousand gold imperials, Draven noticed something odd. A man in the third row hadn't bid once, but his eyes never left the fragment. His hand was inside his jacket, gripping something tightly.

That's not a bidding posture. That's someone preparing to act.

The auction reached twenty thousand gold imperials, and the auctioneer was about to close the sale when it happened. The man in the third row surged to his feet, pulling a compact crossbow from inside his jacket.

"Nobody move!" he shouted. "The fragment is mine by right!"

Chaos erupted. Wealthy patrons dove under their chairs as security guards rushed forward, only to be dropped by the man's surprisingly accurate shots.

Draven acted without thinking. He vaulted over the balcony railing, using Sir Thomas Brightblade's techniques to control his landing. The moment his feet touched the auction floor, he was moving toward the armed man.

This is a really bad idea.

The assailant spun toward him, crossbow raised. "Stay back!"

Draven didn't stay back. He charged forward, feeling the Flower Blade technique awakening in his blood. Burning sakura petals erupted around his hands, wreathed in flames that cast the entire auction house in flickering crimson light.

The man's eyes widened in shock, and his next shot went wide. Before he could reload, Draven was on him, a flurry of burning petals disarming him with surgical precision.

It was over in seconds. The would-be thief lay unconscious on the auction floor, and Draven stood over him, the Flower Blade technique still dancing around his hands.

Too late, he realized what he'd done.

I just used the technique in public. In front of dozens of witnesses.

He looked up to see every eye in the auction house fixed on him. Patrons, security guards, the auctioneer—all staring at him with expressions ranging from fear to awe to calculation.

Worse, he spotted something glinting in the rafters. A scrying crystal, its magical eye fixed directly on him, recording everything.

Time to go.

He bolted for the nearest exit, the Flower Blade technique propelling him faster than any normal human could move. Behind him, he heard shouts for security to stop him, but he was already gone, disappearing into the night like a ghost.

What he didn't see were the figures watching from the shadows, their faces painted with the stylized plum blossom mark of their clan. Nor did he see one of them retrieve the scrying crystal, carefully preserving the evidence of what they'd witnessed.

"The Patriarch must see this," the leader said quietly. "Someone has stolen our sacred art."

As Draven raced back toward the academy, the Echo Heart pendant burned against his chest like a live coal. He'd failed to secure the fragment, exposed his powers, and likely made himself a target for whoever had been trying to steal the fragment in the first place.