The crimson pulse of the Auction Hall seemed to throb in time with Kai's own unsteady heartbeat. The interlude stretched, thick with unspoken anxieties and the lingering metallic tang of shed soul fragments. He stood amidst the shifting crowd, a ghost among ghosts, acutely aware of his untouched 100 Soul Units – a full measure that felt less like an advantage and more like a target painted on his back.
The man with the scar – Scar, Kai mentally dubbed him – swaggered slightly, flexing the hand that had absorbed the Pain Transfer ability. His predatory gaze swept the room, lingering for a moment on Kai, a silent promise of future conflict.
Kai forced himself to look away, focusing instead on the obsidian floor, its surface reflecting the tormented faces around him. He'd witnessed the desperate bids, the raw hunger for power or memory, the casual cruelty of the system. Vicarious sensation, pain transfer… what twisted mind conceived of such commodities? And who was the Auctioneer, the robed enigma orchestrating this nightmare?
He tried to cling to the woman's advice – *Observe. Learn. Survive.* But observation felt like watching a slow-motion train wreck, learning felt like deciphering madness, and survival… survival seemed intrinsically linked to sacrificing the very essence of oneself.
"Feeling exposed?"
The voice was low, startlingly close. He turned to find the dark-haired woman beside him again, her presence as sudden and unsettling as before. Elira – the name felt right, suggestive of shadows and secrets. Her dark eyes scanned his face, sharp and analytical.
"Should I be?" Kai countered, trying to inject a confidence he didn't feel.
"In this place? Always." A faint, almost imperceptible smile touched her lips. "They can smell desperation, newcomer. Fear. Weakness. It draws the predators." Her gaze flickered towards Scar, then back to Kai. "You did well not to bid on the Pain Transfer. Scar enjoys breaking things."
"You warned me," Kai acknowledged, suspicion warring with a reluctant gratitude. "Why?"
"Let's just say I have an interest in seeing certain… variables… remain in play," she replied evasively. "Besides, wasting units on your first cycle is foolish. There are deeper currents here, Kai. Rules beneath the rules. Ways to navigate this, perhaps even exploit it. But they carry their own risks."
"Exploit it?" The idea seemed ludicrous. "Exploit a system that auctions off pieces of your soul?"
"Everything here is a transaction," Elira murmured, her voice dropping lower as the crimson light began to intensify again, signaling the end of the interlude. "Power, knowledge, escape… it all has a price. The question is whether you're willing to pay it, and if you can survive the consequences."
The platform in the center of the hall reignited, the robed Auctioneer reappearing as if summoned by the light. The resonant, metallic voice cut through the renewed tension.
"The next phase begins. Prepare yourselves." The Auctioneer paused, letting the anticipation build. "Tonight's special offering: the Time Echo. The ability to relive the last three seconds, usable once per hour. A chance to correct a fatal misstep, anticipate an attack, or simply savor a victory twice. A potent tool in the right hands."
A ripple of excitement went through the crowd. Unlike the abstract concept of vicarious sensation or the brutal utility of pain transfer, the Time Echo offered a tangible, almost godlike manipulation of immediate reality, however brief.
"Bidding starts at twenty units!"
The bids flew fast and furious, far exceeding the previous auctions.
"Twenty-five!"
"Thirty!"
"Thirty-five!" Scar's voice boomed, silencing several weaker bidders.
"Forty!" challenged a tall, severe-looking woman Kai hadn't noticed before.
"Forty-five!" Scar shot back, glaring at his rival.
Kai watched, fascinated and repulsed. Forty-five units for three seconds of rewind. The desperation was palpable. He felt Elira shift beside him.
"He wants it badly," she observed quietly. "An ability like that complements his aggressive style."
"Fifty!" the severe woman declared, her voice unwavering.
Scar hesitated for only a heartbeat, his scarred face contorting. "Fifty-five!"
The woman pressed her lips together, then gave a slight shake of her head, conceding. Scar grinned triumphantly.
"Fifty-five, going once… twice… Sold! To the gentleman with the… distinctive features." A small orb of shimmering gold light detached itself and flew towards Scar, merging with his temple. He closed his eyes for a moment, the predatory grin widening.
More auctions followed, a blur of minor abilities and fragmented sensations. A slight enhancement to night vision, sold for twelve units. The ability to detect lies with a low probability, fetching eighteen. A fleeting memory of laughter on a beach, tragically overpriced at thirty. Kai didn't bid. He held onto his 100 units, a silent observer, acutely aware of Elira's occasional, assessing glances.
Then, the Auctioneer's tone shifted, taking on a dramatic, almost reverent quality.
"And now… a truly unique item. Not a power. Not a random memory fragment. But a feeling. A single, specific, carefully extracted emotion. The pure, untainted sense of safety a child feels in its mother's arms for the very first time. Absolute warmth. Unconditional protection." The Auctioneer paused, letting the words hang in the heavy air. "Who will bid for this rarest of sensations?"
*Safety.* The word struck Kai with unexpected force. The fragmented image of the woman with sad eyes – his mother? – flashed behind his eyelids. He couldn't consciously recall *feeling* safe. His entire remembered existence was a fog of anxiety and disorientation. But some deep, buried instinct, a primal yearning, responded to the Auctioneer's description.
"Ten units," someone whispered hesitantly.
"Fifteen," came a stronger voice.
Kai found himself taking an involuntary step forward. His hand twitched.
"Twenty!" It was one of Scar's associates, a burly man with watchful eyes.
"Twenty-five!" The word left Kai's lips before he consciously decided to speak. His voice sounded strained, foreign. Heads turned. Scar's associate glared at him.
"Thirty!" the associate snapped back, clearly acting on Scar's silent command.
Kai hesitated. Thirty units. A significant chunk of his starting capital. For a feeling? A fleeting sensation? It was illogical, reckless. But the *need* for it, the visceral pull towards that promised warmth, drowned out reason.
"Thirty-five!" Kai declared, his voice firmer this time, fueled by a desperation he didn't fully understand.
Scar murmured something to his associate, who scowled but fell silent. Elira watched Kai intently, her expression unreadable.
"Thirty-five, going once…" the Auctioneer intoned. "Twice… Sold! To the newcomer who has finally found his bidding voice. The sensation of safety, for thirty-five Soul Units."
A small orb, this one glowing with a soft, rose-gold light, floated towards Kai. For a terrifying second, he wanted to recoil, to refuse it. Too late. It touched his chest, sinking beneath the fabric of his jumpsuit, dissolving into him.
There was no pain. Instead, an astonishing wave of warmth washed over him, unlike anything he'd ever known. It was like sinking into a perfectly heated bath after an eternity in the freezing cold. The tension in his muscles evaporated. The Hall's oppressive hum faded to a distant murmur. For the first time since awakening in this nightmare, a profound sense of peace settled over him. Pure, childlike, absolute safety. He was cherished, protected; nothing could harm him here…
*CRACK.*
The peace shattered. Agony ripped through his mind, not physical, but a psychic schism, sharp and blinding. The warmth imploded, replaced by an invasive, glacial cold. Images flooded his vision, too fast to grasp, yet searingly vivid: dancing shadows, a muffled scream, the glint of cold steel, the acrid scent of primal fear.
He saw hands. *His* hands. Covered in something dark, viscous. Crimson. Not the light of the Hall, but the unmistakable color of… blood.
Kai staggered back, gasping, throwing his hands up before his face. They were clean. No blood. But the image, the phantom stickiness, the coppery smell – they were terrifyingly real in his memory.
This wasn't safety. It was a violation. A trap. A poisoned lure.
"This… this isn't right," he choked out, fighting for breath. "This isn't safety. It's… something else."
He looked around wildly, panic clawing at his throat. Had anyone seen his reaction? Most eyes were already turning back towards the platform, hungry for the next offering. But two eyes were fixed on him.
Elira's.
She stood nearby, her usual mask of calm composure replaced by an expression he couldn't decipher – pity? Recognition? Something deeper, more complex.
She moved towards him slowly, deliberately, ignoring the surrounding crowd. When she reached him, she leaned in, her voice a low whisper that barely cut through the frantic pounding in his ears.
"That feeling, Kai… the safety… the backlash…" Her eyes held his, dark and intense. "It was never yours to begin with."
He stared at her, uncomprehending. "What… what do you mean?"
"It belonged," she said, her voice dropping even lower, heavy with unspoken meaning, "to *him*."
Before Kai could demand who *he* was, before he could process the horrifying implication, the crimson lights flickered violently.
Then, they went out.
Absolute darkness slammed down like a physical blow, swallowing the Auction Hall, the crowd, the very air. The only sound was Kai's own ragged breathing and the echo of Elira's final, devastating words hanging in the suffocating silence.
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