Floating Island - Triple S Talent

"Brother Lein, look at his aura… he's practically glowing with treasure," Efan whispered enviously. His eyes sparkled as he stared at the chubby young man still standing in the lift, his body practically radiating light from all the spirit rings and necklaces adorning him. "He's like a walking treasure tree… if only I could snatch just one of those rings…"

Laras gave him a light smack on the back. "Don't be ridiculous. You wouldn't even get close to his robe before his guards buried you six feet under."

Efan sighed. "I know. But hey, dreams are free, right?"

Lein chuckled softly and resumed walking down the corridor of the 27th floor—the place where the Arcteron Auction would soon begin.

Behind them, the elevator doors slid shut, leaving behind a fuming, red-faced young man whose pride had been thoroughly shredded in public.

___

The corridor stretched ahead with plush crimson carpet underfoot, flanked by crystal chandeliers that shimmered overhead, casting a luxurious glow. Two guards stood watch at the entrance to the main hall, silent and unmoving, allowing guests to pass so long as they caused no disturbance.

"That arrogant kid's only still alive because the gods decided to look the other way," Lein muttered, voice relaxed but gaze razor-sharp as he walked.

Efan blinked and turned quickly. "What do you mean by that, Brother Lein?"

Sure, the chubby youth had been arrogant, but Efan couldn't deny the pressure he emitted. It was suffocating just standing near him—especially with those two older men trailing behind. Those weren't your average bodyguards.

Lein gave a slight nod. "That old man protecting the girl earlier… he's a High-Rank King."

Efan froze mid-step. His breath caught in his throat. It felt like someone had just slammed a hammer into his chest.

He mentally replayed the scene from earlier—what he'd dismissed as a petty scuffle between sect brats was clearly anything but simple.

"A High-Rank… King?" he echoed in a whisper, almost too stunned to believe it.

He had even considered stepping in earlier if the conflict escalated. Now, that thought felt laughably foolish—he'd basically been toying with death out of ignorance.

Lein stopped and looked him in the eye, his tone dropping into something more serious.

"Be careful around them. Even Dragnar, who's at Tier Four, wouldn't last a second against a High-Rank King. They're not just strong—they're pillars of the Nova Consortium Dominion. What you saw back there… wasn't just some rich brat. That was a cog in the machinery of power."

Efan was silent, his earlier levity completely gone. Even Laras looked more alert as she walked beside them, her usual calm giving way to cautious awareness.

___

They arrived at a grand reception hall, the thick red carpet muffling their steps. In the center stood several round counters, each manned by sharply dressed attendants. Guests were handing over items and receiving what appeared to be elegant entry cards in return.

Lein, Laras, and Efan queued up. When their turn came, a polite attendant bowed slightly and greeted them with a professional smile.

"Welcome, honored guests. Please provide a deposit of 100 God Essence. You will then receive this card to enter the auction floor."

The attendant handed them four dark blue cards, each etched with faint, glowing runes that shimmered under the chandelier light.

Lein took one and examined it briefly. The card felt plain—too plain. Nearby, he noticed another guest receiving a different card. This one was translucent, elegant, shimmering like liquid crystal.

"Excuse me," Lein said, pointing to the other card. "What's the difference between that one and ours?"

The attendant answered without missing a beat, still courteous. "That is a VIP access card, sir. It requires a deposit of one hundred million God Essence."

Lein offered a small, casual smile. "I'll take four."

The attendant froze, tension flickering in his eyes—until Lein casually revealed his credentials. His expression changed instantly, and he bowed even deeper before handing over the four VIP cards.

For most, a hundred million God Essence was an unfathomable sum. But for Lein, it was a mere droplet in a sea—equivalent to just a hundred high-grade God Essences.

Without hesitation, Lein distributed the crystal cards to Laras, Efan, and Dragnar—who still concealed his presence behind illusion magic.

The moment their fingers touched the cards, a spiritual prompt appeared in front of them:

[Access Card Accepted]

Destination: Arcteron Auction Hall

Identity: Earth Group

Tier: VIP Guest

Special Feature: [Direct Teleportation]

"Not bad," Lein murmured, glancing at the softly pulsing teleportation glyph in the corner of the card.

He tapped it.

In an instant, invisible energy wrapped around them. Space warped, bending inward like a folding mirror. A silent wind swept through them, light twisted and curved—and then their bodies were pulled into a dimensional tunnel.

***

Moments later, they reappeared in an entirely different place.

They now stood atop a massive artificial island, surrounded by green meadows and crowned with a towering cylindrical structure. The base was as wide as a stadium, narrowing into a sharp spire as it rose.

Inside, the architecture was breathtaking. Dozens of circular tables faced a central auction stage. Illuminated display cases hovered near the center, each holding an artifact awaiting its turn. Staff moved efficiently, checking spell formations and magical seals surrounding the items.

The room was quiet—almost reverent—but tension simmered beneath the surface.

On the crystal wall behind the stage, a giant countdown ticked down: 4:58… 4:57…

The auction would begin in five minutes.

Lein and the others had arrived directly on the fourth floor—the highest level, reserved for VIP guests. Gold-trimmed white carpet cushioned their steps, and a gentle, pervasive pressure filled the air. The atmosphere wasn't oppressive—it was calming. But there was no mistaking its true purpose: to suppress ill intentions.

Lein scanned the area quickly—until his gaze landed on something unusual.

Dragnar was standing openly beside him, his illusion dispelled.

"You? Why are you visible?" Lein asked, tone edged with caution.

Dragnar shrugged helplessly. "Apologies, Master. My concealment technique failed. There's some kind of detection array woven into the structure. I tried several methods, but they all drained my energy without success."

Lein nodded, understanding. This place was no ordinary venue. The Arcteron Auction was under strict magical and technological surveillance. There was no hiding here.

"It's fine. Just stay sharp," Lein replied curtly before turning his attention back to the stage.

The VIP floor had an entirely different vibe. Each table was enclosed in a transparent dome, muffling sound and ensuring absolute privacy. Some guests hadn't even revealed their real forms, appearing instead as spiritual avatars or vague silhouettes of energy.

"There," Lein pointed toward an empty table along the right flank. "We'll sit over there."