The Ultimate Forger

6

The heavy silence of the auction hall was broken by the sound of groaning metal. The two gold-armored guards, men who weighed twice as much as Lucian, were suddenly flying backward. Lucian hadn't even drawn a weapon; he had simply rolled his shoulders and flexed his arms, sending a pulse of the Heaven-Forging Flame through his muscles.

The guards hit the marble floor with a sickening thud, their spears clattering away. The crowd erupted into a chaotic murmur.

"Did you see that?" a merchant whispered, his voice trembling. "He didn't even use a technique. He just... threw them off like they were made of straw."

"Impossible," another replied, squinting at Lucian. "The boy is core-less. We all saw him lose his essence core years ago. He’s a cripple! It must have been a fluke. The guards probably slipped on the floor."

Caspian, who had been halfway out the door, spun around. His face was a mask of disbelief that quickly shifted back into a jagged, defensive arrogance. He marched back toward the center of the hall, pointing a shaking finger at Lucian.

"You see!" Caspian screamed, his voice cracking. "He’s using forbidden arts! He’s a danger to everyone here! Guards, they most have slipped, you fools! Get up and kill him!"

Liora stood beside Caspian, her eyes wide as she watched the two elite guards struggle to find their footing. 

"Caspian is right," she added, her voice high and desperate, trying to convince herself more than the crowd. "He has no core. He’s probably using some toxic smoke from the Bone-Yard to dizzy the guards. It’s a trick, nothing more than a pathetic trick from a desperate man."

Lucian stood in the center of the aisle, the box containing the Phoenix-Heart Root tucked securely under one arm. He looked at Liora, then at Caspian, his expression one of pure, weary boredom.

"A trick?" Lucian asked. "Is that what you call it when someone is actually stronger than you? You’ve spent so much time hiding behind your family name that you’ve forgotten what real strength feels like."

"Shut up!" Caspian roared. He turned to the back of the hall where a squad of Royal Guards—men in silver and blue, the Emperor’s own enforcers—stood watch. 

"Royal Guards! I am Caspian of the Iron-Fang! This man is a thief and a practitioner of the dark arts! I demand you seize him and throw him into the Black Cells immediately!"

The Royal Guards hesitated for a second, then began to move. Their captain, a man with a scarred face and a heavy broadsword, stepped toward Lucian.

"Step aside, boy," the captain warned. "We don't care about your drama with the Iron-Fang, but we won't have a commoner causing a riot in a Royal-sanctioned auction. Move, or we’ll move you."

"He isn't moving anywhere," a voice like cracking ice rang out from the entrance of the hall.

The sound was so sharp, so authoritative, that everyone—including the Royal Guards—froze in place.

A woman walked into the room. She wasn't wearing the heavy armor of a soldier, but a flowing, midnight-blue gown that shimmered like the night sky. However, pinned to her shoulder was a small, unassuming badge that made the Auctioneer’s face turn as white as a ghost. It was the Crest of the Imperial Vanguard.

Everyone gasped. Not just because of the badge, but because of her beauty. She was like a statue carved from moonlight, her features so perfect they seemed unreal. 

Liora, who usually prided herself on being the most beautiful woman in any room, suddenly looked like a common peasant in comparison.

Young nobles and wealthy merchants immediately straightened their tunics, their faces lighting up with greedy interest.

"My lady," one young lord stammered, stepping forward to intercept her. "I am the son of the—"

Seraphina didn't even look at him. She walked past him as if he were a piece of furniture.

"Excuse me, beautiful lady," another tried, flashed a charming smile. "If you are looking for the VIP section, I would be honored to lead the way. A woman of your stature shouldn't be walking amongst—"

Again, she ignored him completely. Her eyes were locked on only one person in the entire hall.

The crowd watched in stunned silence as the most beautiful, clearly high-ranking woman they had ever seen walked straight past the front row, past the VIP boxes, and stopped right in front of the soot-stained scavenger in the back row.

Then, the world seemed to stop. Seraphina, the Ice General, the woman who knelt for no one but the Emperor, lowered her head and bowed deeply before Lucian.

"I have been looking for you," she said, her voice soft but carrying to every corner of the room.

The Auctioneer dropped his gavel. Liora let out a small, strangled sound in the back of her throat. Caspian’s jaw hit his chest so hard it was a wonder it didn't break.

"Wait... what is this?" Caspian stammered, his face turning a sickly shade of grey. "Who is she? Why is she bowing to him?"

"You don't recognize the VVIP badge?" someone whispered from the crowd, their voice full of terror. "She doesn't just have a seat here... her family owns the Golden Lotus and the ground it stands on."