The towering glass building loomed above Riven like a silent fortress.
The Helios Auction House—clean, high-tech, and infamous for hosting the most exclusive dungeon auctions in the city. The type of place where power and money whispered in dark corners.
Riven stepped out of his luxury car, smooth black shoes hitting the pavement. His black trench coat fluttered slightly as the wind picked up.
He strode up the marble steps, head high.
The security guard at the entrance took one look at him and raised a hand.
"Stop right there."
Riven blinked, slowing to a halt.
"Is there a problem?"
The guard didn't look apologetic. In fact, there was a smirk twitching at the corner of his mouth.
"This auction's private entry only. You're not authorized."
Riven wasn't surprised.
"I wasn't notified of any change in access."
"It was invite-only from the beginning. This time, they've tightened the list. Your name's not on it, sir. We cannot allow you inside."
The smile on the guard's face said it all. He recognized who Riven was and weighed his options before making his decision.
It was inevitable to make enemies in Riven's line of business, but it was clear that those enemies were up to no good against him.
Riven tilted his head.
"If the auction is invite-only, then I'll pay."
The guard scoffed.
"This isn't about money."
"I'll make it worth your while."
Riven offered calmly, pulling out his sleek, platinum-etched wallet.
Every human had a price, and with Riven's access to infinite money, he had no problem paying for it.
The guard crossed his arms.
"You could offer me ten million. Doesn't matter. I won't lose my job over it."
Riven paused.
The man wasn't budging.
And worse, he was enjoying this. These types of people were the worse since their price was other's amusement and not a tangible thing they could possess.
Riven could see it in his eyes. The little glimmer of satisfaction. The thrill of turning away someone who once strutted through these halls with ease.
He smiled politely.
"Of course. You're just doing your job."
The guard nodded smugly.
"Exactly."
Riven turned away.
But as he walked down the steps, his mind was already spinning. One failed route didn't mean defeat. He would simply find another way in.
Fifteen minutes later, seated inside his car with his tablet, Riven opened a discreet dark-market channel and typed out a single message:
Willing to pay any price. Looking for an entry ticket to the Helios Auction happening today. DM fast.
The responses came instantly.
Prices that ranged from absurd to outright criminal. 9 billion, 15 billion, even one offer requesting a luxury yacht as part of the payment.
Riven scrolled through the names and shook his head.
"Scammers."
He'd dealt with enough crooks over the years to spot desperation in disguise.
So he filtered them.
Removed the faceless names, the bots, the verified frauds.
And then… he saw a name that froze him.
Shara Berry.
He clicked it.
The profile loaded: A-rank fire user. Formerly affiliated with Vale Corp. Background clean. Combat record solid.
And no longer tied to his father.
Riven frowned, remembering her.
She had been one of the strongest in his father's employ, a no-nonsense combatant with sharp red eyes and a temper to match. She'd vanished six months ago without explanation.
Now here she was, selling her auction ticket… for just two million.
That price was too reasonable. Almost suspiciously so.
But his gut—his investor's intuition—whispered differently.
This was the right choice.
He tapped out a quick message
[Interested in your ticket. Still available?]
The reply came quickly.
[Yes. Meet at 12th Rose Alley in an hour. West end. Come alone.]
Riven narrowed his eyes at the address. Rose Alley was not a good area. Low-income. High-crime. Narrow streets with blind spots.
His instincts flared.
No, going alone wasn't smart.
He had no combat ability, no defense if things went south.
He closed the chat and opened a mercenary hiring app. The top-rated freelance protection group—Gravestone Ops—offered on-demand bodyguards, no questions asked.
He selected the "Solo Escort – Urban" package and typed in the details.
[Name: Riven Vale
Protection Level: High
Location: Rose Alley, West End
Duration: 1 hour
Situation: Possible ambush, unknown hostility.
Pay: Negotiable]
He clicked Confirm.
The system beeped.
[Mercenary Assigned: Code Name – Shade
ETA: 12 minutes.]
Riven leaned back in his seat, gaze sharp. The moment was tense, but he was in control again.
The shard he'd used may have given him unlimited funds—but it was still his mind that kept him ahead of the game.
He would meet Shara.
And if things went wrong?
Well, that's what the mercenary was for.
______
Riven stood beside his car, hands in his coat pockets, gaze distant as the wind tousled his hair. The sun had started to dip behind the skyline, casting long shadows across the quiet street.
His phone buzzed.
[Your assigned mercenary has arrived.]
He looked up.
And nearly dropped his mask of calm indifference.
A tall man stepped around the corner.
Jet-black combat gear. Crimson scarf fluttering in the wind. A massive claymore strapped to his back, humming faintly with mana.
Slade.
One of the ten S-ranked adventurers in the entire country. A legend known for turning entire battlefield tides on his own.
He was the kind of mercenary that people hired with entire nation-level budgets.
And he had shown up for Riven's request.
Slade stopped a few feet from him, gaze sharp and unblinking.
"You're Riven Vale?"
"I am."
Riven answered, his tone steady.
"I saw your protection request. It came with an interesting note: 'Unlimited funds. No questions asked.' That caught my attention."
Slade's voice was deep, smooth—yet unreadable.
Riven didn't flinch.
"I can pay whatever you ask. Money's not an issue."
Slade raised an eyebrow, just slightly.
"People say that. Until they see the price."
"I'll match whatever number you say."
Riven said again, confidently.
There was a moment of silence.
Then Slade chuckled once, low and short.
"You're serious."
"I am."
"Alright then. I'll take your case. Ten million an hour."
Slade paused.
Riven didn't even blink.
"Accepted. Contract?"
He pulled out a digital contract chip and passed it over.
Slade scanned it with his wristband, watched the green confirmation light blink on, and gave a nod.
"Now, follow me."
Riven said, turning away.
Slade walked behind him without another word, casual and relaxed—like walking into a bar instead of a potential ambush site.
But Riven wasn't fooled.
This was a man who could turn deadly in a breath.
And now, he was on Riven's payroll.
A smart investment, if Riven had ever made one.
They passed dark alleys and narrow streets as they neared Rose Alley.
The district's energy changed. Trash bins overflowing, broken neon signs flickering, and muffled music leaking out of old taverns.
It was the kind of place where people disappeared and no one asked why.
Riven didn't speak, but his eyes remained alert.
Beside him, Slade cracked his neck and said quietly.
"If someone's planning anything stupid, I'll take care of it."
Riven nodded once.
"I trust you to protect me…or say goodbye to your money forever."
He meant it.
This wasn't just a test of his new wealth—it was the beginning of how he'd operate in this new world.
Rational. Calculated. Protected.
And no one would ever catch him off guard again.