Jjhutto_Son of Flame
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B3. Ch. 31 Seeing Red.
🕑 Added 2024-08-27 00:37:28 +0000 UTCBefore he even consciously registered what he was doing, a growl escaped Tilly's lips and fire rippled to life across his shoulders.
Obvious or uncaring to any of the spectator’s reactions, the Auctioneer continued, “By all accounts, these Seeds have the ability to profoundly affect your Mana Pathways and increase your power output multiplicatively. They do come with some side effects, as with most objects of power, you must maintain a tight mental control over their influence. But for the careful user, they could be the key to breaking past bottlenecks or even gaining access to other sources of power completely. Not to mention the immediate positional strength you will gain with the forces rising across the plane.” The Auctioneer advertised, looking around the room almost curiously as they spun the display case for all to see.
“Mr. Tillman!” Mochizuki said urgently as the fire began to spread up and down the rest of Tilly’s body.
‘Everything they are only sharing half-truths. Some idiots are going to turn themselves into monsters and destroy everything around them…’ His thoughts blazed through his mind as his hand moved toward his crystal.
‘ I have to buy them and destroy them.’
“Johnathan!’ She tried again, getting up from her chair at his lack of response.
“Due to the fact that there are three of these powerful objects, the bidding will start at fifty thousand gold,” the Auctioneer finished happily.
Tilly’s hand clenched on the crystal, sending his flag soaring with the others.
“Oho! Dare I jump to seventy-five?”
Tilly pushed more mana into his crystal, gritting his teeth. Then Mochizuki interposed her face in front of his own, blocking his view completely.
“Johnathan Tillman. You will not buy these objects. They will find eager hands no matter what you do. Let this one go.”
Only three-quarters of the flags fell away at the proportionally huge increase in price. Leaving at least ten buyers.
“Even if I can’t get them, I will make whatever bastard who wants them pay a premium.”
“As expected,” The voice whispered sadly in response to the loss of the majority of bidders, “The blood hasn’t truly started pumping yet for some of you. Let's keep playing it safe at seventy-seven.”
Tillys Mana twitched reflexively, matching the bids of five other flags.
“Jonathan Tillman! You will enrich the seller while temporarily saving a fool that will no doubt endanger their own Faction in some other way!” She growled, her hand hovering near his arm as if she would have jerked it back, if not for the fact that it was covered in flames.
“Seventy-Eight.”
The cold logic of Mochizuki’s rebuke cooled some of Tilly's fury, and he reluctantly pulled his hand away from the crystal, allowing his flag to fall away along will all by two of his competitors.
“Seventy-nine.” The Auctioneer continued, as both flags wavered, neither one definitively taking the victory.
“Come now people. These are Mythic items! The system itself backs their potential!” the Auctioneer cajoled. Finally, the flag displaying a unicorn of all things rose above the other to take the prize.
“Very well.” They concluded dismissively. With a flourish of their sleeves, the case holding the three seeds disappeared, and the robed figure flung their arms wide, “Ove all this was a very pleasing start to what should be an increasingly interesting event. As is customary, give our people a few minutes to reset the room and as you see all the flags rise into the air, you may come and enjoy our legendary hospitality while we set the stage for the next round of items.”
With those words workers covered in body concealing uniforms flowed in from the main passage carrying tables and trays heavily laden with all kinds of things.
“Thanks Mochizuki. The thought of someone else having that thing growing inside them threw me for a second,” Tilly breathed, allowing the rest of his flames to die down around his body. The lapin eyed him for a second more before moving to retrieve the Codex and sitting with her knees against the window.
“I understand your feelings, but you would better serve yourself and our people by thinking a little more deeply before you act. The stakes are very high and any rash decision made now could prove a terrible weight later down the line.”
Tilly got up from his chair, frowning at the words, but accepting them for the reality they were, “Is the plan still to post up and watch this first one?”
“Yes, we will venture forth on the next break. There are always at least three and I have a hard time imagining that the guild will want anything less than four runs of goods at such a high conflict time.”
Tilly settled down next to her, looking at all the different tables being set up with a spread of food that was at least as diverse as the auction attendees. He saw a guild worker set a huge tray of what looked like radioactive green seaweed next to a long platter of grilled meats on skewers. More and more workers moved into the arena hall, carrying ever-increasing amounts of “food” until every table held a dizzying array of goods, some of which Tilly would not wish on his worst enemy.
At the center of one particular table next to some average-looking hors d’oeuvres, was a rotting bovine head overflowing with maggots. The smell alone would probably make the arena floor all but impassible. Tilly had lived in a very low-income block of apartments as a child, and even with those foods being mildly familiar, on hot days, the aroma of everyone’s cooking would meld in the hallways creating a nauseating memory that could still make him gag.
“The platters are all enchanted to contain the smell,” Mochizuki noted absently, reading Tilly’s mind. Or more likely, the sudden waxy paleness on his face.
“That makes it… only slightly better,” Tilly gulped, trying not to imagine what creature would soon be eating some of these delicacies.
Soon after, the staff flowed away from the arena floor like a retreating tide leaving behind an impromptu feast. As they left, the flags lingering on the ground between the tables rose, clearing a complex network of pathways with the stage at its center. The whole thing was designed as a social maze, which, once entered, would be very difficult to extricate from quickly.
A bell sounded from somewhere as the flags finished rising, and Tilly got his first chance to fully gawk at the assorted rulers and representatives of the most powerful Factions on the plane. In most cases, they emerged from the different stairwells with dignified strides, scanning the room cooly as they measured the opportunity such a gathering represented.
This was juxtaposed by a few notable exceptions. One spindly figure with antlers topping its head and swirling portals of darkness for eyes and a mouth practically ran toward the tables, crashing into one and shoving everything within reach into its mouth. Another figure that looked like a hyena on steroids, jumped atop a table, kicking aside the dishes and howled in delight, laughing maniacly all the while.
The more dignified attendees ignored this as par for the course, but Tilly’s head kept turning from one strange figure to another as he tried to take it all in at once. Even with what looked like only half the attendees bothering to come down for the first break, the sight was overwhelming.
“Look,” Mochizuki interrupted his spiral, pointing to a table near the entrance, “There are Stephen Brightborn and our friend Reginald, playing the part of his servant. I will needlessly remind you that under no circumstances are we to approach either of them today.”
Tilly nodded, following the direction of her gesture, and saw a towering man with salt and pepper hair, wearing armor that shown with a faint radiance. He wore a stern expression as he spoke with an angry-looking dwarf covered in enchanted armor that must have been at least six inches thick.
“I’m guessing the dwarf he is talking to is King Kneekicker of the Dwarven Deeps Faction?”
“Yes, the first of a long list of overt outreaches the Tower of Light plans to make at this event… It seems this first one is not going very well.” She finished, before returning to watching the room and making note of who was talking to whom.
Disturbingly, Tilly saw a significant number of beings already showing signs of advanced corruption. They did not clump together, instead, they flowed around tables like predators, eyeing food and other guests with naked huger. At Tilly’s rough count, there were probably less than seventy-five beings on the arena floor at present. He tried to listen in on some of the nearby conversations, but the best he could pick up was an indistinct murmur filtering through the glass.
Mochizuki, however, seemed to be able to parse something from the noise and her ears twitched constantly as she scratched away with her pen and stared intently at different nearby conversations. Deciding that it would probably be best not to disturb her, Tilly did his best to mentally put some of the names he had learned the night before to face. Maybe he could pick something up by just watching them.
Triton was easy to pick out, the leader of the Atlantian Faction swam through the air at ground level as if it were water. His powerful body was covered in scars, some of which seemed disturbingly fresh, but the figure moved as if he was unbothered by them. Nearby was a Litch floating on the edge of the feast swathed in midnight robes. Its empty eye sockets scanned the room slowly as if waiting for something. He most likely was the representative of the Eternal Dead Faction, one of the few Factions in the vicinity of the Blasted Lands that was not allied with the demonic thrones.
As he carefully scanned the rest of the room, he was pretty sure he was also able to spot representatives from the Ancient Grove, Defiant Fist, Enlightened Council, and Winged Host Factions. They were all major players, and typically not aligned with the Blasted Lands or the Tower of Light looking more after their own interests than being swept up in larger-scale conflicts. Tilly carefully scanned each one of the powers as he recognized them, and was grateful that none of them seemed to sport obvious signs of alignment with Corruption.
The same was not true for some of the more infamous members of the Pits. A swarm of insets that concealed a faint but visible humanoid figure stood off to one side of the area. Tilly noted that it was conspicuously opposite the Champion of the Tower of Light. The distance spoke of a respect that gratified Tilly until he realized that while Stephen Brightborn was pursuing conversations with different powers on one side of the room. Bezzelbub seemed to be holding court on the other. One by one, other powers and representatives would approach the Fallen Prince, plaintively entering the cloud before leaving a minute or two later, covered in bugs. There was no sign of Magog, the only other Prince Tilly was confident in his ability to identify due to the legendary size of the demonic giant.
Not surprisingly, many of the powers reaching out to the prince showed signs of Corruption. But Tilly was no fool, just because he didn't see any didn't mean there wasn’t a significant number of people at this event who had already been exposed in some way and were fighting it even now. He knew firsthand that an internal war could be raging under the surface of the most normal-seeming of faces.
Soon enough the Bell chimed again, and Guild workers flowed into the arena as conversations quickly ended and the attendees began to move back to their respective stairs. Tilly's mind was buzzing with different observations and questions, and he was about to turn toward Mochizuki to get a few before the next round of bidding began when a scream of fury rang out on the arena floor.
Tilly's eyes whipped toward the sound and saw that same eerily beautiful man standing in triumph over the representative of the Defiant Fist. The burly Orc was pawing pitifully at a black, living knife that was shooting out familiar tendrils in an attempt to dig deeper into the warrior's insanely tough skin. The all too familiar veiny network of corruption was already working its way across the burly warrior's exposed chest.
“The stain of dishonor your kind have left on our Faction is cleansed! Wallow in-
“How dare you,” the whispering voice of the Auctioneer ripped through the sound of the man’s gloating.
