The auction hall quieted as the stage darkened for a moment—then flared back to life with dark purple lights as Xena's voice rang out, theatrical and commanding.
"NOW, WITHOUT FURTHER ADO," she boomed, arms spreading dramatically, her red gown billowing unnaturally despite the still air, "LET US BEGIN THE FIRST PART OF THE AUCTION."
A thrill of excitement rippled through the crowd. Calisus leaned forward slightly, arms crossed over his chest. Beside him, Selena remained poised, golden eyes watching from behind the veil, unreadable.
"AS USUAL," Xena continued, her skeleton side glinting under the light, "WE WILL BE PRESENTING ALL DREAMS AND NIGHTMARES CAPTURED AFTER THE DOWNFALL OF DREAM DOMAINS."
Whispers spread like silk through the lower tiers, but among the Dream Lords, there was only stillness. Calculated silence.
"REST ASSURED," she said with a sinister smile, "WE ONLY PICKED THE BEST OF THE BEST—IN QUALITY AND POTENTIAL."
The floating pedestal at center stage shimmered. A veil of darkness lifted, revealing three elegant, feline silhouettes crouched in a triangle formation. Sleek, black fur that shimmered like oil under starlight, glowing violet eyes, and tails that flicked in sync with uncanny precision.
"OUR FIRST PRODUCT—SHADOW CATS."
Xena's voice dropped into a sultry, almost reverent tone.
"THREE SHADOW CATS—WITH THE ELEMENT OF DARKNESS. SKILLS? CONFIDENTIAL TO THE BUYER AND BUYER ONLY."
A few murmurs stirred in the lounge next door. Selena's ears picked up on fragments: "Dark element…" "Triple bond?" "Potential jump to 70?"
"ALL THREE," Xena pressed, walking slowly around the pedestal, her bony heels clicking sharply, "ARE LEVEL 20. BUT WITH THE POTENTIAL TO REACH LEVEL 70. I CANNOT DISCLOSE THEIR SKILL SETS PUBLICLY—BUT BELIEVE ME WHEN I SAY, THEY ARE AGILE, DANGEROUS, AND WORTHY OF THEIR NAMES."
A wave of gasps rose from the lower tiers. It wasn't dramatic awe—it was raw envy. Those seated outside the VIP lounges could only dream of owning nightmares this strong.
Selena remained composed. Calisus tilted his head.
The merchant, still standing at Selena's side in respectful silence, leaned toward her and explained quietly, "The ones below us—many of them don't have dream domains. They can't own sentient nightmares, not unless they serve a Dream Lord or reach that status themselves."
He kept his voice low, but there was reverence in it. "Most down there live outside dream domains. Rogue entities. They're here for relics, equipment—anything that can help them get stronger."
Selena gave a slight nod of acknowledgment, her gaze still locked on the Shadow Cats. Their coats glistened with the essence of night. Their bodies moved in eerie synchrony, like shadows mimicking a dance they'd learned in the dark.
"AUCTION STARTS AT 1,000 COINS!"
Xena's voice echoed again, snapping attention back to the bidding.
A panel of floating names appeared in midair, visible to each lounge—a visual summary of the bidders.
"AH! DO I SEE MISTER SWAMP SWALLOWER OFFER 2,000 COINS?"
A gruff chuckle could be heard faintly from the lounge two down. A hunched creature, half-moss, half-jellyfish, pulsed with glee.
"MISTER RICHE OF THE NIGHT—3,000 COINS IN ONE GO!"
A silver-masked figure in a dark velvet cloak simply raised a hand, an aura of elegance and arrogance surrounding him.
"ANYONE ELSE? … OH! MISTER SKYLAR OFFERS 5,000 COINS!"
That brought a ripple of energy through the air. Skylar—one of the lesser-known but rapidly rising Dream Lords—rarely made bold moves.
The numbers rose steadily, each name flashing again as the bids climbed.
6,000.
7,500.
8,200.
Then—
"10,000 COINS FROM RICHE OF THE NIGHT!"
A breathless pause followed.
No one countered.
"AND SOLD!"
Xena clapped her skeletal hand against her human one, the sound sharp like bone striking marble.
The pedestal dimmed, the Shadow Cats vanishing with a gentle swirl of darkness into a containment orb.
In the lounge, Selena sat still, composed, one leg crossed over the other. She hadn't moved to bid—not yet.
She was watching.
Observing.
Testing.
Like a noble at a foreign court, she was gathering data—the rhythms, the games, the contenders. And one fact already stood out clearly: with over 96,000 coins, she was quietly one of the wealthiest Dream Lords in attendance.
Calisus leaned closer and murmured behind his white mask, "That… was a lot for three cats."
Selena responded softly, tone calm and slightly amused, "It wasn't just the cats—it was their potential."
The merchant chuckled under his breath. "Ma'am, with your fortune, you could have snapped your fingers and tripled that bid."
Selena didn't reply. But the corner of her lips, just visible under the veil, curved slightly.
She was waiting for the right moment. The right prize.
The stage shimmered with arcane energy, and yet another figure was escorted to the center by flickering, illusionary chains that gleamed like starlight. The lights dimmed, and Xena's voice rose once more—this time with added flair, her red-skeletal form taking a dramatic turn as she gestured to the girl standing in the middle.
"MOVING ON TO THE NEXT ITEM!" she boomed, the edge of her voice electric with excitement.
"FROM A LOWER-TIER DREAM DOMAIN THAT WAS DESTROYED BY STRAY NIGHTMARES…"
The crowd leaned forward. Whispers crept like ivy around the stadium.
"THIS DREAM'S NAME WAS ALSO HER DOMAIN—RAPUNZEL!"
The moment the name echoed through the air, the temperature seemed to shift. A gentle gust rustled through the hall as if even the atmosphere held its breath.
A young girl appeared, summoned silently to the center of the stage.
She stood barefoot, barely twenty by appearance, adorned in a pale pink dress that shimmered faintly like gossamer. Her hair was her most striking feature—blonde, impossibly long, pooling behind her like a golden waterfall. She did not move. Her eyes were distant, glassy, caught in a trance. She swayed slightly, not out of awareness, but as though still dreaming within a dream.
Gasps rippled through the crowd, and even some Dream Lords shifted forward in their seats.
"A DREAM WITH THE STIGMA
A shimmer of violet magic briefly traced the sigil hovering just above Rapunzel's head—a delicate tiara-shaped rune, flickering with ancient power.
"DREAMS WITH THIS STIGMA CAN GROW ABILITIES OF S-TIER OR ABOVE!"
The crowd below erupted in low murmurs. Some of the non-Lords in the stands had risen slightly from their seats. Eyes, greedy or desperate, clung to the dream's form.
Back in her private lounge, Selena sat motionless—eyes narrowed behind her veil. A subtle change passed through her posture. A tension.
Call her a hypocrite. Call her weak. It hadn't affected her when it was shadow cats or eerie, inhuman things. But now?
This was a girl. A dream, yes—but shaped like a person. Young. Confused. Bewitched.
She looked too much like the children Eleanor used to meet in dreams, the ones she'd tiptoe through, gathering their whispers and fears like coins in a river.
Beside her, Calisus glanced sideways, reading her stillness like a language of its own. His stare held unspoken encouragement—an urging.
Selena hesitated. She loathed spending money on things she didn't control. And she didn't like owning people-shaped things. But something stirred. Whether it was pity, or pride, or rebellion—she couldn't say.
And then, the bids began.
"STARTING AT 1,500 COINS!"
The numbers jumped rapidly.
"MR BOLT THROWER BY 3,000!"
"MR SANDLAGWARRIOR BY 4,000 COINS!"
"MISS SNAIK AIM BOT BY 5,000!"
"MR BRAINS NO AIM BY 6,000!"
Selena's lips parted. Calmly, coolly, she said, "Ten thousand."
The merchant beside her jolted upright.
"MISS CHAOSCUPCAKE BY 10,000!" Xena's eyes gleamed with excitement, her skull-side grinning wide.
"LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, LADY CHAOSCUPCAKE HAS ENTERED THE FIELD!"
The hall quivered with tension. The bidding escalated like a storm forming.
50,000. Only five contenders remained.
Bolt Thrower
Rich of the Night
Lightning Hammer
Shapeshifting Thief
ChaosCupcake
The numbers soared.
70,000.
80,000.
90,000.
The merchant next to Selena was on the edge of his seat. "My Lady, if you wish—"
But Selena raised a hand.
Inside, she warred with herself. Her fingers curled slightly on the armrest. She could win. She had the coin. But…
"AND BOLT THROWER HAS OFFERED 100,000 COINS!"
The room went utterly silent.
Xena's dress fluttered as if caught in a phantom wind.
"DOES MISS CHAOSCUPCAKE HAVE A HIGHER OFFER?!"
All eyes flicked to Lounge 4. Anticipation thickened like fog.
Selena leaned back in her seat, resting her elbow on the plush armrest, fingers to her chin. Her golden eyes turned toward Calisus, seeking silent counsel.
He didn't argue. He only nodded once. He understood.
She exhaled softly, then said aloud in that cool, composed tone that veiled her real emotions, "Hmph. I won't spend more on this product."
Her voice dropped a degree colder.
"Clearly, she isn't worth more. Whoever spends that much… is a fool."
The merchant blinked at her. He nodded slowly, face unreadable. But a hint of relief flickered there. He didn't want to see her lose everything on a gamble.
"AND DONE!" Xena's voice cracked with finality.
"CONGRATULATIONS TO BOLT THROWER! THE PRODUCT IS YOURS!"
Then, with a theatrical pause:
"AND AS A SURPRISE… A SMALL DREAM, 'GREEN CHAMELEON,' ALONG WITH THE PRODUCT!"
Lightning cracked around a lounge far across the hall. Laughter erupted from inside, followed by a surge of electric energy that jolted the walls slightly.
Selena's jaw tensed behind the veil. It wasn't just the loss—it was the mockery.
She stared at the stage, saying nothing.
"They're all dreams, Eleanor. They're not real."
The words echoed in her mind like a prayer. Or a curse.
Then—ding!
A silver message box flickered into view before her eyes.
---
Miss ChaosCupcake,
I enjoyed our little battle today.
I hope to see you again in the next auction. Hahaha.
– BOLT THROWER
---
Selena blinked.
The merchant looked at her in surprise. "He… sent you the extra dream?"
She said nothing for a long moment. Then, softly:
"How arrogant."
But she didn't decline the gift.
Instead, she opened the attachment.
--------
The clinking echo of containment orbs fading into portals marked the end of another sale, and for a moment, silence swept over the stadium like a low tide pulling back before a wave. Selena rested her chin against her gloved knuckles, her gaze fixed on the stage with patient indifference, even as her thoughts moved sharply behind her golden eyes.
Xena, ever the mistress of ceremony, didn't let the pause last long.
A new spotlight ignited, softer this time, twinkling like stardust. In its glow, thirty small figures floated into view, their gossamer wings glimmering like polished moonstone. Some buzzed curiously, others sat cross-legged in the air, tugging on each other's floral garments or braiding blades of dreamgrass into halos. The air itself shimmered around them with playful energy.
"AND NOW…" Xena's tone took on a lighter, whimsical edge.
"OUR NEXT PRODUCT—A GROUP OF THIRTY LITTLE FAIRIES, FROM THE REMAINS OF A ONCE-GREAT DOMAIN LONG LOST TO SHADOW!"
A few fairies clustered into a formation that resembled a flower, drawing a soft "aww" from someone in the lower seats.
"THEY MAY BE LEVEL 1 NOW," she continued, "BUT HAVE THE POTENTIAL TO REACH LEVEL 70.
I AM UNABLE TO REVEAL THEIR ABILITIES, AS IS OUR POLICY…"
She leaned in dramatically, her skeletal side grinning.
"BUT I can tell you—they are of the support type. Observant, loyal, and—let's be honest—rather adorable. They make excellent decorative companions in a domain, and they're much less likely to betray you than a captured nightmare, wouldn't you say?"
That got a few chuckles. But by now, the audience's energy had cooled. Everyone knew that Part Two of the auction, the Items section, would follow shortly—and many of the Dream Lords preferred to hoard their coins for the rarer tools, artifacts, and relics to come.
Still, a few eager buyers stirred.
Dream Lords. Lesser nightmares. Wandering dreams with ambitions.
Bids flickered across the translucent interface suspended in the air:
"8,000."
"10,000."
"15,000."
"30,000."
"THE PRETTIEST OF THEM ALL OFFERS 30,000!" Xena called, clearly amused by the bidder's title.
"That's 10,000 per trio! Will anyone challenge it?"
The merchant next to Selena chuckled. "I suppose those fairies are a dreamkeeper's luxury," he muttered, sipping from a goblet that poured itself. "Pretty little things. Not my style."
Selena didn't answer him.
Her eyes were fixed on the cloud of fluttering beings above the stage.
She'd activated her skill minutes earlier: Luck Dust.
A gentle shimmer clung to her veil and fingertips—visible only to her. It gave her eyes a soft radiance. And when the fairies had appeared, her breath caught.
Golden dust.
It clung to the fairies—not faintly, not subtly. It poured.
Like sunlight in a bottle shaking violently, swirling around them in spirals.
The kind of radiance that only the system itself marked.
Hidden value.
Even the Deep Sea Organization hadn't noticed.
That was all she needed.
Calmly, without blinking, she raised her hand.
"Forty thousand."
The merchant beside her turned sharply. "You're bidding?"
Her voice, cool and unhurried: "Yes."
A moment passed.
On the far end of the hall, Prettiest of Them All stirred. A lounge wrapped in glowing petals, sheer silk curtains, and music-box chimes fell silent. Something seemed to flicker behind their silhouette—a brief convulsion of their dream mask, and then…
Nothing.
No counter.
They stopped completely.
No one understood why.
"AND MISS CHAOSCUPCAKE INTERVENES AGAIN WITH AN OFFER OF 40,000!"
"ANYONE ELSE?! Going once—going twice—"
A slow, theatrical pause.
"—AND SOLD! CONGRATULATIONS, MISS CHAOSCUPCAKE! YOUR PURCHASE HAS BEEN ADDED TO YOUR INVENTORY!"
As the fairies dissolved into mist and light, funneled into containment crystals bound to Selena's Dreamspace, she didn't gloat. She didn't even smile.
But a flicker of quiet satisfaction sparked in her chest.
The merchant leaned close. "That was bold, Lady Cupcake," he said carefully. "Support types rarely get such interest."
She didn't reply.
She knew what she saw.
They weren't just support types. Not with that dust.
Something deep lay within those thirty lights.
Perhaps an ability. Perhaps a hidden unity.
Or maybe—just maybe—something alive, something forgotten by time.
But before she could linger on it, Xena's voice rang again—this time from atop a small pedestal formed from twisted glass.
"FEWW! NOW THAT THE FIRST PART OF THE AUCTION IS OVER…"
She clapped her hands, sending a ripple of invisible sound across the hall.
"PLEASE FOLLOW THE BUTLERS TO THE BANQUET HALL FOR A LITTLE REST, WHERE YOU CAN HAVE FUN AND MINGLE AS WE PREPARE FOR PART TWO!"
"ITEMS, RELICS, CURSED OBJECTS, AND MYSTIC TOOLS—ALL TO COME! DON'T GO FAR!"
At once, the architecture responded.
Walls opened like blooming lotuses. Velvet staircases emerged. Butlers in white gloves, stitched from shadows and moonlight, guided the guests gently down.
Selena stood slowly, smoothing the front of her dress.
The gold from the fairies still shimmered faintly around her hands, fading slowly.
Calisus watched her carefully, his white mask unreadable.
Selena finally exhaled.
She had made her first real move.
Now… she'd see what came of it.
Selena's heels clicked rhythmically along the crystalline corridor, the long veil flowing from her headdress catching the light with each step. The merchant walked slightly behind her, fingers laced behind his back, a posture of both deference and sly amusement. He had seen too many auctions, too many new Dream Lords flashing their power—too many that burned out quickly. But this one? ChaosCupcake? He found her curious.
Still seated in the lounge above, Calisus stared into the distance, his masked face tilted slightly.
"Are you planning to stay here until the next part?" Selena asked, voice light but with an edge of tension.
His answer was quiet, detached. "Yes. You enjoy yourself. It's not like I'm strong enough to protect you."
She turned her head sharply at that—not strong enough? The phrasing felt wrong, uncharacteristically self-deprecating. But she didn't pry. That wasn't their dynamic. Not here.
Instead, she clicked her tongue and turned back around, following the elegant butler who led her deeper into the resting wing of the auction grounds. The merchant beside her chuckled softly as he adjusted the rags of his .
"So bold. But I didn't expect the ma'am would already catch the attention of some of the big-shots among our VIP members.
well , i did expect it but not this quickly. "
Selena gave a soft hum, her voice smooth and regal behind the veil. "Hmm. Would you tell me about the Dream Lords I've encountered so far? It doesn't have to be anything elaborate—just the basics."
The merchant grinned. "My, of course. That's what I'm here for. But allow me a little pride first, would you? The Deep Sea Organization doesn't host just anyone. Only the truly worthy are invited to bid in these auctions. We serve the most powerful Dream Lords—those with legacy, brilliance, or... wealth."
His voice dipped into a slightly dramatic tone. "And Lady ChaosCupcake, what do you think makes a Dream Lord powerful?"
She tilted her head, pretending to ponder. "I don't know. Their level?" A pause. Then, disdainfully, "I don't really know how lesser dreams think. Hmph."
The merchant burst into laughter, clutching his middle with exaggerated flair. "Hahaha… Oh, Lady Cupcake, how delightfully cold. Yes, levels matter. But that's not all."
His eyes sparkled as he lowered his voice. "When other Dream Lords yield to one, when fragments of their dreams spawn new Lords, or when entire domains shift to orbit around a single individual… that's true power. When their influence becomes gravitational."
He continued, his tone conspiratorial. "We—the organization—keep our eyes on such Lords. Some we call Ascendants, born from the collapse or split of once-great realms. Others are conquerors, their names carved into the dreamscape itself. And then there are those who are simply too rich to ignore." He gave her a sideways glance, lips twitching.
Selena offered only a quiet, knowing "Hmm."
"Allow me," he went on smoothly, "to provide a brief rundown of the elite domains within our roster—at least, the ones you've brushed against tonight."
He raised a finger. "First, Jotunheim, home of the frost giants. Cold, massive, and ancient. Its Dream Lord once froze an entire section of the realm to preserve a dying Dream."
Then another. "Musphelheim, housing the fire giants. They're aggressive, brash, and constantly at war. A burning forge of nightmares and ambition."
He leaned closer, whispering now. "They say both originated from the same primordial domain—twin aspects of an ancient war dream. But they split, and now their rivalry runs hotter than ever."
Selena's eyes narrowed behind her veil.
"Then we have the Ennead—highly secretive. Their domain rarely interacts with outsiders. Rumor says it houses multiple Dream Lords. A confederation, or something stranger. Even we don't know who exactly leads them."
"And of course," the merchant added with a flourish, "Asgard. Known for its military strategy. They've conquered several lesser domains and absorbed them. Structured. Proud. Dangerous."
Selena's breath hitched slightly. The names were too familiar. Myths. Legends. Stories from her previous life—from Earth.
A pause.
She turned slightly. Her voice was casual, but her heart beat a little faster.
"Is there... an Olympus?"
The merchant raised his brows. "Oh! Yes! I was just about to mention them."
He tapped his finger against his temple. "You competed with two of their members during Part One: The Bolt Thrower and The Prettiest of Them All. Both are from Olympus."
He smiled faintly. "Olympus was once part of the Titans' Dream Domain. But those dreamers—they broke off. Took a portion of that powerful domain and made it their own. And it's flourished."
Then, leaning in with a wary glance, he offered a tip. "But if I may, ma'am, as your exclusive merchant—never, ever compete with the Titans over a time-related item."
He chuckled darkly. "If they want it, they'll take it—either by coin or by war. They don't care. Barbarians, if you ask me. I prefer my clients to be a little more... civilized."
He shook his head, sighing. "Their merchants are colleagues of mine. You should hear the horror stories. They're suffering. Mentally."
Selena didn't respond right away. Her thoughts churned behind her composed facade.
Of course.
This was the Dream Realm. The subconscious soup of all minds—of all souls.
And some dreams… were born from stories.
Jotunheim. Musphelheim. Olympus. Titans. Asgard.
They weren't random names. They were collective memory. Imagination turned real through belief, through repetition across cultures and time.
In this place, myths lived.
She exhaled slowly, finding her balance again.
"Makes sense…" she thought. "This isn't Earth. But some parts of it followed me here, didn't they?"
At last, they stepped into the banquet hall.
It was vast, warm with a glow that pulsed from enchanted orbs in the ceiling. The floor resembled glass but felt like mist underfoot. Tables laden with dreamfruit, glimmering desserts, floating wines, and animated pastries filled the space. Figures of all shapes and sizes wandered about—some tall and wrapped in stars, others cloaked in shadows or draped in silks spun from memory.
Some mingled and laughed. Others sat in deep silence, observing .
Selena paused at the entrance, the weight of her recent victory—and the revelations—settling over her shoulders.
This was only the intermission.
The real game had just begun.