Return Of The Strongest Player

"550!"

"551!"

"570!"

"600!"

"1000!"

Many seemed to hesitate as soon as someone yelled a number in the quadruple digits. The man on stage definitely seemed powerful, but his injuries were something the customers could not ignore.

Not only was one of his eyes missing, but there were also several unclosed wounds and infections that lined his body.

"This is Jacque Cutler. A former clan member named Veuzen, Jacque was one of its strongest warriors. He is a veteran who participated in several wars, and is a great leader capable of leading a massive force into battle."

"During one of the wars in which he participated, Jacque was unfortunately abandoned by his clanmates. Surrounded by several dozens of warriors, he was powerless to resist. But he didn't give up."

"After several weeks of torture, Jacque decided to escape the clutches of the warriors and was successful. However, in doing so, he was sadly forced to sacrifice an eye, resulting in his current state."

"Despite that, his legacy lives on."

"He strives to raise another generation of warriors, so they can follow in his footsteps and become proud, courageous beings capable of shaking the world."

With further insistence from the hostess and the obviously fabricated story of Jacque's deeds in life, a few customers glanced at each other, deciding to raise their bids in small increments. 

"1010!"

"1011!"

"1050!"

Not many customers were businessmen. A few only had a few thousand tokens in their possession. Most life savings only amounted to about 20,000 tokens to 30,000 tokens… at least, on the lower floors.

People on the higher floors usually managed to amass millions of tokens quite easily through various means.

'I should have a few hundred thousand right now,' thought Arthur. 'Ferhill made me rich.'

Suddenly, a deafening roar escaped one of the VIP rooms, rendering the crowd silent in mere seconds. The hostess's expression brightened considerably, while the faces of regular customers paled.

"5000!"

That was the bid the VIP customer offered. Such an amount was absolutely ridiculous for a mere warrior. The customers had incredulous expressions plastered over their faces after hearing the shout of the VIP customer.

Many wondered if he was perhaps mentally disabled.

Or perhaps he was the son of a renowned figure. If so, the regular customers hoped to leech off of him. Such an important figure was certainly someone they could invest in. It'd be even better if he were wet behind the ears.

Someone who cannot differentiate between malice and goodwill was destined for doom, anyway.

"Any other bidders?"

Although a few customers were interested due to the absurdly high bid, they could not compete. Many were willing to raise their bids, but rivaling 5000 tokens was practically impossible unless one owned a business.

"Jacque Cutler, sold to the man in VIP room #246!"

As Vivi's voice resounded across the hall, a few cheered, while others licked their lips in greed. 

After a few dozen seconds, Vivi stepped forth yet again. "For the next display, we have Alva, an elf warrior whose village fell prey to the ravaging assault of the Dragons of the Celestial Peaks. She is the only survivor."

A female elf with a slender body stepped atop the stage. Her spotless, porcelain skin was complemented by her stark black attire, which seemed to hug her body tightly. Sadly–for the customers–she had virtually no curves.

Her hair was silky, and of a light green hue, while her eyes seemed to reflect the world within them. They were dark green and seemed to be practically dead. She was akin to a walking puppet.

For the first time in practically forever, Arthur felt pity for someone.

Beauty–within the tower–was both a blessing and a curse. One could manipulate many using their beauty, but without sufficient power, one could also be abused. An example of that was what seemed to have been done to the elf.

Arthur could instantly tell the violent crimes people had committed, and how she'd tried to endure, but had failed in the process.

The elf was merely a shell of what she had originally been.

'Even after her mental death, she still hasn't managed to escape her misery.'

But Arthur could do nothing except watch.

"The bidding starts at 2500 tokens!"

With those words, a flurry of bids descended upon the hall. Many customers shouted incomprehensible numbers, increasing the bid by fifty tokens every two seconds or so. In mere minutes, the bid had risen to an absurd amount of 5500.

Many of the regular customers had already given up.

It was a battle between VIP customers and a few rich regular customers.

"6000!" Shouted a somewhat obese man with long, ungroomed hair. He was dressed in fancy attire and had several bodyguards surrounding him at all times. He seemed like the heir of a rich family.

His expression displayed his overflowing lust, while his eyes seemed to contain danger.

"7000!" A man in VIP room #189 yelled. 

The bid continued until the elf was finally sold at an incredible price of 10,000 Tokens. Vivi's expression contained utter shock, while her face was as bright as a candle in a dim room. It reflected a blinding light.

The man who purchased the elf sat in VIP room #976 and seemed to be quite old, judging by his hoarse voice. Arthur remained silent, gazing at the floor while sympathizing with the elf. 

Alas, such was simply reality.

It was unfair, painful, and cruel. It shattered one's dreams when one did not expect it. It propelled those who did not deserve success while suppressing those who wished to make a change.

It was skewed.

Heaven's Spire–much like all other worlds–was a fucked-up place.

However, within such darkness, there were also those who sought and spread light. Although few, they existed in all eras. Some managed to make a name for themselves, while others faded in the records of history.

One thing was for certain.

Light and Darkness seemed to coexist.

Their bond was both strong and weak simultaneously.

They seemed to rival each other.

But one could not erase the other.

Both were eternal.