MTLNOVEL Ch. 27
Chapter 27: Auction
The sudden appearance of Choi Da-yeon threw Ho-cheol into disarray.
Shouldn’t she be in the dorms, sleeping or scratching her belly at this hour?
This wasn’t some minor misstep like drinking or smoking—it was a major incident.
He wanted to march over and flick her forehead a few times, but he held back, hardly in a position to judge.
Where’d she get a VIP code?
Not hers, surely.
The Swordmaster’s?
Other heroes couldn’t snag a VIP code, but the Swordmaster was an exception.
He was an eccentric, almost alien hero.
He’d watch villains go free outside his jurisdiction or on holidays, sparking controversies.
Being a Lunard Auction VIP wasn’t surprising.
Despite his outrageous behavior and personality, he held the title of top S-grade hero.
His strength was among the greatest in S-grade history, no question.
What’s she here to buy?
Ho-cheol flipped through the catalog on his seat, scanning the items.
Artifacts, gems, accessories, weapons, gate rewards, taxidermied monsters—so many, it was impossible to guess.
The catalog didn’t list everything.
Illegal or near-treasure items were omitted to prevent leaks.
His Purple Glass Sword wasn’t listed either.
While skimming, a staffer, silent in the corner, approached.
“The VIP auction is ready. Please follow me.”
Closing the catalog, Ho-cheol followed through a passage.
Da-yeon was guided by another staffer.
At Lunard’s VIP stage, the “Moonlight Hall,” he took his assigned seat.
Number 44.
Nice number.
Da-yeon sat diagonally two seats back.
The room was oddly dark.
Dim light from the seat armrest tablets eased movement, but the stage lacked even that, its shape barely discernible.
How do you auction in this dark?
As he wondered, the ceiling’s center slowly opened.
Moonlight poured through the split dome, illuminating the stage.
The curtain of light cloaking the stage was mystical, beautiful.
Even Ho-cheol let out a gasp.
He understood why VIP auctions felt detached and why this was called the Moonlight Hall.
This staging could sell a street pebble for a fortune.
After a wait, a figure stepped onto the stage.
“Today’s auction marks Lunard’s 100th, a monumental milestone in our storied history. We’re deeply grateful to all esteemed guests for attending.”
A sharply dressed auctioneer, mic in hand, bowed with exaggerated flair.
He launched into a flowery preamble—winter’s veil lifting, spring’s buds blooming, and so on—before announcing the start.
“We pride ourselves on rare, high-value items, but today’s treasures surpass all before. May you secure your desired item.”
A woman pushed a cart onstage, draped in red velvet with gold embroidery, holding a fist-sized box.
“The grand first item!”
The box opened, revealing a pair of rings.
“Gold Quien’s Resonance Rings! You all know Gold Quien…”
The auctioneer rambled about the rings’ owner, maker, and value, but Ho-cheol paid no mind.
The auction wasn’t his concern.
He opened his bag, pulling out student assignments.
With the next lecture looming, he had a mountain of reports to grade.
The wide seat spacing and high armrests ensured privacy.
Grading while half-listening to the auctioneer, his hand stopped.
Fourth, maybe fifth item—order didn’t matter.
Seeing the cart’s latest item, he closed the report.
His target had appeared; time to focus.
The auctioneer gestured to the cart.
“Next item!”
On a stand, a purple sword gleamed ominously under moonlight.
The Purple Glass Sword.
A weapon once threatening this nation’s ruin revealed itself.
The auctioneer lowered his voice, whispering as if sharing a grand secret.
“The original owner of this beautiful purple sword is unknown.”
Its obscurity was simple: Ho-cheol rarely drew it, as few foes warranted it, and those who saw it drawn were countable on one hand.
The scabbard was more famous, but he’d broken it.
“But we at Lunard identified its maker!”
The camera panned to the hilt’s base.
The armrest tablet displayed it—a small signature etched at the center.
“Master Dolodres, a top underworld weaponsmith. His forging was deemed the century’s best!
Eccentric, he stayed out of the spotlight, but his skill was undeniable. The engraving’s date, compared to his death, marks this as his final work.”
Ho-cheol let out a stunned laugh.
A signature on the hilt?
He hadn’t known.
When did they engrave that?
“Dolodres used only special metals. This sword’s no exception! Forged from rare gate-mined metal, its properties…”
The auctioneer snapped his fingers.
A giant, over two meters, hauled a massive hammer onstage.
Raising it overhead, he declared.
“It absorbs all impacts!”
He slammed it down on the sword.
Eeee—!
A chilling resonance echoed from the sword across the stage.
Despite the full-force blow, the sword, stand, and cart didn’t budge, as if hit by a cotton mallet.
The sword absorbed it all—literally.
“Remarkable, isn’t it!”
Only Ho-cheol noticed the sword’s purple hue briefly turn translucent.
“Master Dolodres’s final work! Starting bid, 350 million! Increments, 20 million!”
Expensive yet cheap—ambiguous.
As a collectible, Dolodres’s fame didn’t make it rare; he made too many weapons.
As a weapon, an impact-absorbing sword was lackluster for luxury.
Its rare metal had value, but too little of it.
The biggest reason?
“Number 72! 370 million!”
“Number 31! 390 million! Right to 89, 410 million!”
This auction’s items were heavily restricted.
Wasting funds on a decent item risked missing true treasures later.
Only fools bid recklessly.
After three bids, increments slowed drastically.
“Number 72! 430 million! Any more?”
Ho-cheol, scanning the mood, reached for his tablet.
He tapped the bid button.
“Number 44! 450 million!”
None of those reasons applied to him.
The president’s black card, via Secretary Seong, had limitless funds.
Compared to a top hero’s wealth, this was pocket change.
“Number 89! 470 million! Right back, 44, 490 million!”
A few bidders followed, but his relentless pace deterred them.
“Number 44, 590 million! Any further bids?”
The auctioneer scanned the room.
Slightly below expectations, but it was early.
Enough to set the tone.
“Three calls to close. 590 million. 590 million. 590 million. Number 44 wins! Congratulations!
Next item.”
Ho-cheol resumed grading assignments.
No more business with the auction.
The real work started after.
Several items passed, and he looked up again.
The auctioneer’s voice wasn’t one to ignore.
“This item! An S-grade hero’s weapon!”
Not a keepsake—an actual weapon.
S-grade weapons, unless special, were classified as armaments, with absurd performance and strict oversight.
That it wasn’t the auction’s main item was shocking.
What, a live A-grade monster for the finale?
The item was an old-looking bow.
Ho-cheol recognized it.
The bow of retired S-grade hero Dread Archer.
Simultaneously, Da-yeon jolted forward.
However she knew she'd come for it.
His “trash” comment on her last bow must’ve stung.
Wasn’t that lost in a gate blockade?
Who found it where?
Intrigued, he set down his pen to watch.
As an S-grade hero’s weapon, it sparked collectors’ desires, fetching a price far beyond his sword.
Da-yeon won it.
More items were sold, but after the S-grade weapon, the mood sagged.
Then, silence fell.
Even Ho-cheol, indifferent to the auction, felt the air shift.
The moonlight dimmed, matching the mood.
A strange tension, almost solemnity, settled in.
The auctioneer straightened, bringing the mic to his mouth.
“In my twenty years as an auctioneer, I’ve never felt this. An item’s quality reflects the auctioneer’s skill. I can now declare, with certainty, I surpass any auctioneer.”
His grandiose words seemed absurd, but the next item made them modest.
A black rod with a fist-sized orb at its tip sat on a stand.
It drew eyes with intense magnetism—not just felt, but real.
The auctioneer paused, gauging the room.
He didn’t explain. Sharp-eyed VIPs were already buzzing, Ho-cheol among them.
He nearly stood, composure slipping.
With superhuman restraint, he stopped, gripping the armrest.
“Some esteemed guests already sense this item’s value!”
Value?
Mood?
Irrelevant.
Ho-cheol leaned back, head throbbing.
“Crazy bastards.”
Half his curse was for Lunard, half for the Hero Association.
How do they manage anything?
“Let me introduce it! This nation’s greatest hero! Though retired, forever number one in our hearts. The hero of heroes. Everyone’s idol. The symbol of peace!”
The current top hero was the Swordmaster.
Before him, The Sun.
But ask who’s the greatest, and ninety of a hundred would name a hero retired over a decade ago.
“Smiley! Her signature weapon!”
Clouds rolled in, hiding the moon.
Darkness cloaked the stage.
A single beam pierced through, lighting the rod’s center, glowing like the moon.
“The [Peacemaker]!”
* * *
[Peacemaker]
Its name was grand, but Ho-cheol called it the Skullcrusher.
One hit with a “be good” chant caused such pain, even he saw his life flash.
For lesser villains, brain damage was unavoidable.
A non-lethal hero, yet her weapon caused permanent brain damage.
Gazing at it, the auctioneer closed his eyes, overcome.
“No rhetoric or cheap words. Smiley’s weapon—that’s enough.”
How’s it here?
It shouldn’t be at an auction.
As he pondered, bidding began.
“We start at zero! Free increments. Bid what you wish.”
Zero starting bid, free increments—a show of confidence, a declaration that its value couldn’t be priced.
Lunard’s lowest start, but it’d end as their highest.
Everyone agreed.
Ho-cheol placed his hand on the armrest.
After hesitating, he swapped the president’s card for his own.
How it got here could wait.
He wouldn’t let it fall to the riffraff.
It was respect for his ultimate foe, rival, and friend.
He pressed the bid button.