Michael's lips twitched faintly.
"Guess this is what it means to be rich in both lives."
It wasn't just about the money—it was what the money brought him.
The wyvern essence wasn't just a rare item. It was power. Possibility. A future for his undead that most necromancers could only dream about.
And the dark elf?
A living weapon. A trump card.
He had walked into this auction with no real goal beyond curiosity.
Now?
He'd walked out with two of the most valuable assets in the entire event.
Worth it.
Every damn coin.
Even so, he couldn't help but let out a quiet snort.
"Almost makes me feel broke again," he muttered under his breath.
Michael leaned back, gaze sweeping the still-buzzing hall.
He'd spent more than some lords earned in five years.
And yet…
He didn't feel regret.
Only anticipation.
Arianne shifted beside him, her voice soft but curious. "With the nature of the seventh and eighth items… I can't help but wonder what the ninth and tenth are."
