The Extra's Rise

During the intermission, Arthur and Reika moved through the mansion's corridors with the casual curiosity of wealthy collectors admiring their host's estate. To any observer, they appeared to be nothing more than a couple exploring the impressive collection of art and artifacts that lined the walls. In reality, Arthur was conducting reconnaissance with the precision of a military strategist.

The mansion's layout was more complex than it appeared from the outside. Hidden passages branched off from the main corridors, concealed behind rotating bookcases and false walls that only someone with Arthur's enhanced perception would notice. He counted at least thirty guards positioned throughout the building—far more than necessary for a simple auction, even one dealing in illegal goods.

"The security seems quite thorough," Reika murmured as they paused before a particularly grotesque painting depicting what appeared to be a ritual sacrifice.

"Indeed," Arthur replied, his attention focused on the magical ward patterns woven into the mansion's architecture. "Our host clearly values discretion above all else."

They passed a study where several masked figures engaged in hushed conversation, their voices too low for normal hearing but perfectly clear to Arthur's enhanced senses. He caught references to shipping schedules, laboratory results, and something called "the Awakening Protocol" that made his blood run cold.

"Darling," Reika said softly, her hand tightening on his arm, "perhaps we should return to the auction hall. I wouldn't want to miss the finale."

Arthur nodded, but not before making mental note of the study's occupants. The woman in the raven mask was definitely Red Chalice, her magical signature bearing the distinctive taint of blood magic. The others were harder to identify, but their casual discussion of human experimentation marked them as willing collaborators rather than unknowing dupes.

When they returned to the auction hall, the atmosphere had shifted. Where before there had been excitement tinged with greed, now there was something approaching reverence. Whatever Corwin had planned for the evening's final acts, it was clearly something special.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Corwin announced as the last guests took their seats, "we now come to the crown jewels of tonight's collection. What you are about to see represents months of careful acquisition and preparation."

The stage lights dimmed, and when they rose again, a new item had appeared—a sophisticated containment unit holding what appeared to be a sample of some unknown substance that seemed to bend light around itself.

"Metamaterial from the Chernobyl-7 Incident," Corwin declared, his voice carrying genuine awe. "Harvested from the epicenter of the dimensional breach and stabilized using classified technology. The applications are... limitless."

Arthur felt his breath catch. Dimensional metamaterial was theoretical at best—the idea that someone had actually managed to harvest and contain such a thing was staggering. More disturbing was the implication of how such an acquisition might have been accomplished.

The bidding was immediate and fierce. Unlike the previous items, which had attracted collectors and criminal organizations, this drew the attention of what Arthur recognized as several major political figures. Duke Ravencrest was bidding again, as was a woman whose bearing suggested high military rank despite her elaborate mask.

"70 million crypto," called out a voice from the front row that Arthur recognized with a chill. General Morrison, one of the Empire's most decorated war heroes and a man whose public stance against dangerous research was well-known. His presence here was more than troubling—it suggested the corruption ran deeper than anyone suspected.

The metamaterial ultimately sold for 120 million crypto to an anonymous bidder whose identity was so heavily concealed that Arthur couldn't penetrate it. That level of secrecy suggested either incredible resources or access to technology that put them beyond normal classification.

"Magnificent!" Corwin exclaimed as the containment unit was carefully secured for its new owner. "But we are not yet finished. Our penultimate item is something that I believe will appeal to those with more... practical interests."

This time, what emerged from the curtained alcove made even Arthur's trained composure slip slightly. A young woman, perhaps sixteen or seventeen, stood motionless on the stage. Her eyes held the same glassy emptiness as the servers, but there was something else—a faint luminescence beneath her skin that spoke of magical augmentation.

"A fully enhanced combat servant," Corwin announced with obvious pride. "Trained from childhood in seventeen different martial disciplines and enhanced with experimental alchemical treatments. She is capable of feats that would challenge even veteran soldiers, yet remains completely obedient to her owner's commands."

Arthur felt Reika's sharp intake of breath beside him. Her hand found his under cover of her fan, and he could feel the tremor of barely controlled rage in her grip. This was exactly the kind of horror that had been inflicted on her, the reduction of human beings to mere commodities.

The bidding for the enhanced servant was conducted with an obscene casualness that made Arthur's jaw clench. These people were discussing the purchase of a human being as if she were a particularly fine piece of artwork or an exotic pet.

"2 million crypto," bid a corpulent man whose mask did nothing to disguise his obvious appetites.

"3 million crypto," countered a woman whose military bearing suggested she intended to use the servant for purposes even more sinister than slavery.

The price climbed steadily, ultimately reaching 8 million crypto before being claimed by someone Arthur couldn't immediately identify. The casual efficiency with which the transaction was completed spoke to how routine such sales had become.

As the enhanced servant was led away, Arthur noticed something that made his blood freeze. A small tattoo on her wrist—the mark of the Meridian Institute, one of the Empire's most respected research facilities. This wasn't just any victim—she was someone who had once been a student or researcher, probably reported as missing or killed in an accident.

"And now," Corwin said, his voice taking on an almost reverent tone, "we come to tonight's true masterpiece. Something so rare, so unprecedented, that we have had to implement extraordinary security measures."

The stage lights dimmed to almost nothing, and when they rose again, Arthur saw something that made him understand exactly why this auction was so heavily guarded.

A sleek, crystalline device no larger than a briefcase sat on a pedestal, its surface pulsing with soft blue light. But it wasn't the hardware that made Arthur's blood run cold—it was what the device contained.

"A complete digital consciousness," Corwin announced, his voice filled with genuine awe. "The uploaded mind of Dr. Elena Vasquez, the world's leading expert in quantum consciousness research. Captured at the moment of her death and preserved in perfect digital form, complete with all her memories, knowledge, and expertise."

The implications hit Arthur like a physical blow. Digital consciousness transfer was the holy grail of both medical science and intelligence operations. With this technology, death became merely an inconvenience, and the knowledge of any expert could be preserved indefinitely.

"The bidding," Corwin declared, "will begin at 100 million crypto."

The response was immediate and overwhelming. Every major player in the room was bidding, their previous purchases forgotten in the face of this ultimate prize. Arthur watched with growing unease as the price climbed beyond 200 million, then 300, then 400.

But more concerning than the bidding itself was the behavior of several attendees. He noticed subtle hand signals being exchanged, quiet conversations that suggested coordination rather than competition. This wasn't just an auction—it was a carefully orchestrated event designed to achieve some specific outcome.

"Master," Reika whispered, her voice barely audible even to his enhanced hearing, "something is wrong. You've been too calm about all of this. What aren't you telling me?"

Arthur glanced at her, noting the suspicious gleam in her eyes. Reika knew him too well—she'd recognized that his reactions tonight had been too measured, too calculated. He wasn't just gathering intelligence; he was waiting for something.

Before he could respond, the digital consciousness sold for 650 million crypto to a consortium of bidders whose combined resources spoke to planning that went far beyond tonight's auction.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Corwin announced, his voice carrying a note of finality, "this concludes tonight's exhibition. We trust you have found our offerings to your satisfaction, and we look forward to serving your future collecting needs."

Arthur felt a chill at the abrupt ending. Something was wrong—auctions like this typically built to a grand finale, not an anticlimactic conclusion after human trafficking. Unless...

His enhanced hearing caught subtle movements throughout the mansion—footsteps in corridors that should have been empty, the soft click of weapons being readied, the barely perceptible hum of jamming equipment being activated.

This wasn't the end of the auction. It was the beginning of something else entirely.

As the attendees began to file out, settling their accounts and arranging for the discrete delivery of their purchases, Arthur remained seated. Reika shot him a questioning look, but he simply shook his head slightly.

"We should wait for the crowd to thin," he murmured. "I'd like to compliment our host on such an impressive evening."

It was then that Arthur's enhanced hearing caught the first hint of what was coming. Footsteps on the roof—too many and too coordinated to be maintenance staff. The faint hum of magical equipment being activated. The barely perceptible shift in the mansion's ward patterns as external forces began to probe for weaknesses.

Arthur felt a familiar anticipation begin to build in his chest. The final phase of his plan was about to begin, right on schedule.

The first explosion shattered the mansion's front entrance, sending chunks of masonry flying through the foyer. Shouts of alarm echoed through the building as armed figures in dark combat gear poured through the breach.

"Imperial Inquisition!" a voice boomed through magical amplification. "This facility is under investigation for crimes against the Empire! All occupants will submit to immediate detention!"

Chaos erupted throughout the mansion. Auction guests who moments before had been calmly discussing their purchases were now scrambling for exits that were rapidly being sealed by the attacking force. Magical barriers sprang to life as the mansion's defensive systems activated, while hidden guards emerged from concealment to engage the intruders.

In the midst of the pandemonium, Arthur sat perfectly still, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth beneath his mask.

"Master," Reika said urgently, rising from her chair as spell-fire began to flash through the auction hall, "we need to leave. Now."

But Arthur remained seated, his eyes fixed on the stage where Magistrate Corwin was frantically trying to coordinate the mansion's defenses while simultaneously attempting to secure the evening's more sensitive merchandise.

"Master!" Reika's voice carried real alarm now as she saw the knowing expression on his face. "What did you do?"

Arthur's smile widened as the sound of combat grew closer. Everything was proceeding exactly as he had planned.

The real show was just beginning.