Started with a 10,000x Multiplier in a Game World

Aurelius stormed out of the auction hall, his pride completely shattered and his bank account drained.

Dante watched him go from the VIP suite. The rogue had tried to play the victim, but in the Zenith Protocol, the only currency that mattered was power.

And Dante had just forced him to buy back his own power at an astronomical premium.

"Twenty-five million credits for a Level 15 sword," Nyx said, shaking her head. Her datapad hummed as the transaction officially cleared through the system’s escrow.

"He’s functionally bankrupt. He won’t be a factor in the open-world progression for weeks."

"Good," Dante said, his focus already shifting back to the stage. "He was an annoyance."

Down below, the atmosphere in the grand hall grew noticeably heavier. The petty squabbles and personal grudges were cleared from the docket. The heavy hitters in the front rows, Silas, Leonidas, Valerius, and Xerxes sat up straighter.

Sera took a deep breath, her professional facade hardening into absolute, serious focus.

The pedestal rose slowly from the stage floor.

The bright overhead lights in the hall dimmed slightly, focusing a single, brilliant spotlight onto the velvet cushion.

Sera didn’t need to announce the item immediately. The visual impact was enough to completely silence the room.

Resting on the velvet was a pair of heavy, pitch-black wings. They weren’t forged from metal or leather. They were composed of shifting, iridescent dark matter.

They pulsed with a terrifying, cosmic energy that actively devoured the bright stage lights, creating a shadow that seemed to swallow the pedestal itself.

The entire auction hall collectively gasped.

"The [Wings of the Void]," Sera announced, her voice echoing perfectly in the absolute silence. "Dark Demon tier flight equipment."

Silas leaned forward, his eyes burning with intense greed.

"This artifact," Sera continued, "grants the user unrestricted, sustained aerial mobility. Completely independent of mana costs or stamina drain."

The silence in the hall broke, replaced by a frantic, buzzing murmur.

Unrestricted flight.

It was the ultimate tactical advantage in the early and mid-game of the Zenith Protocol. A player with sustained flight could bypass complex dungeon traps, effortlessly scout massive enemy formations, and rain magical artillery down from complete safety.

It fundamentally altered the rules of engagement. For a Guild Master commanding thousands of ground troops, being able to oversee a battlefield from the sky was an absolute necessity.

"The starting bid," Sera said slowly, letting the tension build until it was almost suffocating, "is set at fifty million Veridian Credits."

The silence held for exactly one second.

Then, the true battle for the server’s skies officially began.

"Sixty million!" Leonidas roared, slamming his golden warhammer against the marble floor.

The Apex Coalition leader was desperate. His entire army had been routed in the Sky Demon Forest by an enemy they couldn’t reach.

He had watched Dante drop a localized orbital bombardment from the sky, and he wasn’t going to let another Guild Master claim that same high-altitude superiority.

"Seventy million," Xerxes countered lazily from his corner in the back. The leader of the Blood Throne swirled a digital goblet of wine, projecting an air of infinite wealth, though his posture had stiffened considerably.

"Eighty million!" Silas snapped, his voice sharp and incredibly tense.

"One hundred million," Valerius stated flatly.

The Warlord of the Legion of Blades remained seated, but his military discipline had completely abandoned him in the face of raw tactical superiority. The Legion needed air support, and Valerius was willing to burn his guild’s treasury to get it.

Up in the VIP suite, Dante leaned against the soundproof glass, watching the numbers climb.

He had looted the wings off a high-tier mob during his chaotic speedrun through the Necropolis. He didn’t need them; his awakened [Mantle of the Void-Dragon] already provided infinite, mana-free flight, alongside a massive, 1,000-point stat boost and the [Source of Recovery] passive.

Selling a redundant mobility item to fund Sera’s corporate independence and bleed his enemies dry was a simple tactical decision.

"One hundred and twenty million," Leonidas bellowed, his face turning red with exertion.

"One hundred and thirty," Xerxes replied smoothly.

"One hundred and fifty million!" Silas yelled, standing up from his chair.

"They’re completely losing their minds," Casanova laughed, watching the Guild Masters scream numbers at each other.

"One hundred and fifty million for a pair of wings. You could buy an actual, physical airplane on Veridia for that."

Dante didn’t laugh. He watched Silas.

The Guild Master of Vanguard’s Legacy was visibly sweating. His pristine Silver-grade armor didn’t hide the fact that he was currently overriding frantic messages from his real-world financial advisors.

Silas’s corporate backers had allocated a massive budget for the early game, expecting him to establish a monopoly.

But he had already spent heavily trying to hunt Dante, and the disastrous siege of Ironhold had drained his resources. He had also just spent ten million credits on a dagger.

"He’s running out of liquid capital," Nyx reported, her datapad reflecting in her dark glasses. "Valerius just dropped out. The Legion’s treasury can’t sustain a bidding war past a hundred and fifty million."

Dante looked down. Valerius was sitting quietly, his arms crossed, glaring at the stage. The Warlord had folded.

"One hundred and sixty million!" Leonidas shouted, refusing to back down.

"One hundred and seventy," Xerxes countered, taking a slow sip of his wine.

Silas gripped the back of his velvet chair. He looked at Leonidas, then looked at Xerxes. He needed those wings. If the Apex Coalition or the Blood Throne secured aerial superiority, Vanguard’s Legacy would be permanently grounded in open-world conflicts.

"Two hundred million credits," Silas stated. His voice was completely hollow. It was the sound of a man who was actively ignoring his own financial reality.

Leonidas gritted his teeth, his hand hovering over his bidding interface. He looked back at his officers, who were frantically shaking their heads.

The Apex Coalition was well-funded, but they weren’t reckless. Spending two hundred million on a single mobility item would completely halt their infrastructure upgrades for the next month.

Leonidas slowly sat down, slamming his golden warhammer against the floor in frustration. "It’s yours, you corporate parasite."

Xerxes also set his wine goblet down, signaling he was out. The Blood Throne leader had the money, but he wasn’t going to overpay just to win a pissing contest.

Silas stood alone, his hand raised. He was panting slightly, his face flushed with victory.

"Two hundred million credits," Sera announced from the stage, her voice perfectly steady, though Dante could see the slight, almost imperceptible tension in her posture as she acknowledged Silas. "Going once."

Dante smiled. It was a cold, calculating expression.

He didn’t need to order Mei to artificially inflate the price this time. Silas was bleeding himself dry purely out of desperation and ego.

"Sold," Sera struck the podium. "To the Guild Master of Vanguard’s Legacy, for two hundred million credits."

Silas smirked, sitting back down into his plush velvet chair. He had secured the item. He had proven he was the wealthiest player in the room. He had the tactical advantage of flight.

Up in the VIP suite, Nyx was furiously analyzing the data.

"He just liquidated his secondary real-world assets," Nyx whispered, absolute awe in her voice. "He sold his shares in a major Veridian shipping conglomerate to cover the margin. He is literally destroying his personal portfolio to stay in this bidding war."

"He thinks he won," Lila murmured, looking at Silas through the glass. "He just burned a massive hole in his treasury right before the main event."

Dante watched the pedestal sink into the floor, carrying the dark matter wings away to be securely transferred to Silas’s inventory.

The atmosphere in the massive auction hall shifted completely.

The heavy hitters in the front rows sat up straighter. The tension spiked so sharply it felt like physical pressure.

Every single player in the room, from the lowest rogue to the highest Guild Master, sat perfectly still.

They knew what was coming next. The weapons, the armor, the wings they were all just tactical advantages. They didn’t fundamentally alter the infrastructure of the game.

Sera took a deep breath. She pressed a button on her podium.

The pedestal rose slowly from the floor.

It wasn’t a velvet cushion this time. It was a secure, heavy glass containment unit.

Resting inside the glass, glowing with an intense, authoritative golden light, was a heavy iron token stamped with the image of a crossed sword and shield.

The entire hall collectively stopped breathing.

"The final item of the evening," Sera announced, her voice echoing perfectly in the absolute silence. "The ultimate key to the open world. This token bypasses all standard member requirements and instantly grants the user the official, system-recognized status of the First Guild."

Silas leaned forward, his eyes burning with absolute, unfiltered greed.

He had the Aegis Blueprint. He had the Wings of the Void. If he secured the Gold-tier token, Vanguard’s Legacy would receive the permanent 10% EXP boost, a massive, impenetrable guildhall, and the absolute prestige of being the first officially recognized power on the server. It would cement his legacy and secure his corporate merger.

Up in the VIP suite, Dante leaned against the glass, watching the sheer financial violence unfold.

He had the second token safely tucked away in his infinite inventory. He was going to let them fight. He was going to let Silas burn his entire empire to the ground for a worthless piece of metal.

"Let him bleed," Dante whispered.